The stranger

[Wynken]

From a dimly lit corner of the tavern, Wynken watches the coming and going of the other patrons over the top of his cheap glass of red wine. Having gone without for so many years only served to strengthen his desire for the luxuries afforded by wealth and power, both of which have eluded him. He holds each sip upon his tongue, allowing the flavors to linger there as the memories they conjure similarly hang in his thoughts.

Three years have passed and still I recall those events as if they happened yesterday. Oh, the position that I could have held if it weren't for my naivety. I stole into my father's mansion unopposed, moving through his halls with familiarity until I came at last to his bedroom. The traps and alarms removed, I held the cold metal doorknob firmly against my palm. It felt like destiny.

Inside, we both breathed steadily. Mine provoked by years of discipline, and his the rhythmic lulls of slumber. As I towered above him, my crude dagger at the ready, I stared into the blankness upon his face. It was inevitable. My hatred for him and the lust for vengeance had consumed me for the past four years, and he would have expected nothing else. Sooner or later, now or then, we would be joined in a fight to the death.

Were it out of mercy or respect, I made it swift.

I should have made a similar end of my father's cohorts. I expected the deed to command respect, as the transfer of power from master to apprentice is customarily facilitated by murder in the circle of rogues. However, as I stepped forward in my father's stead I was met with contempt. I know not if it were my age or the fear that they each would meet a similar fate, but I narrowly escaped them with my life.

Never before had a contract been placed upon my head, and I was hunted day and night. It was perhaps grace that I was arrested by city guards before an arrow or dagger had found my back. Two years I spent chained to the floor of a cell, sitting idle as my strength and skill atrophied and my senses dulled. I was held on various charges, some true and others false, but none for deeds proven to be my own.

It mattered little to the guards until the rulers finally began checking records. Lady Luck, the Fates, and the Graces...all usurers of mine and I owe them dearly. I was then released and forced to toil the fief of a local lord until I had regained enough strength to flee. So it is that I've come to this tavern and the realms of Althanas.

Anger rises within him and brims beneath the surface of his dark eyes as he recounts his actions at seventeen. Finishing the last of his drink, he thinks to slam the glass upon the table. He desires to destroy something, anything, to break its base and shatter its slender stem. Always cautious and ever in control, he refrains and instead gracefully rises from his seat and makes his way toward the bar.

[Wynken]

As he walks the short distance to the bar, a familiar warmth runs the course of his spine. Wynken reflexively brushes his fingers across the grip of the sword sheathed at his hip, the Mirror Root. The sword often imparts such sensations after bouts of introspection, as if the blade understands and laments his suffering. However, had it been drawn, Wynken may have witnessed as the last of its polished edge was dulled by tarnish. As it were, he merely accepted that the sword had always been so withered, just as he accepted its subtle suggestions.

Touching the weapon, he thought of the good fortune it had granted him and of that which was yet to come. He was not an ignorant man, and, had he stopped to truly consider those musings, Wynken may have understood the contradiction in that lie, for each turn of luck was born only of misfortune such that he gained nothing.

However, he never has the chance, and is abruptly drawn from his dreaming. He had made the bar, and the keep was asking for his order as several other patrons looked on. Glowering at the onlookers, Wynken gruffly orders his glass to be refilled. The barkeep tipps the bottle and it's remaining contents drizzle out, filling only the very bottom of the goblet. "I guess I'll have to fetch another.", he says followed by a short whistle aimed at the nearest barmaid. Wynken rolls his eyes and listens as the two converse. The man offers brief directions for navigating the cellar, and she promptly departs.

Wynken revels in the ensuing silence. He doesn't enjoy being the focus of attention and he can sense those near examining his actions as a newcomer, but he grins to himself at their awkward anxiety as he acknowledges no one and says nothing. For one, the quiescence at the bar grows unbearable, or perhaps they simply think to make the stranger feel welcome. In either case, one of the onlookers introduces themselves, striding up to Wynken as he leans against the bar awaiting his drink.



A better lead in than last time. Anyone who wishes to join may do so.

[Mistress-Of-The-Maze]

I hope You don't mind me joining :3 I'm kinda new at this.

Aislynn had been observing the stranger since the first moment he had walking inside the tavern, intrigued by his hooded attire and mysterious aura. A quick look around told her that she was not alone in her interest. Many of the tavern's patrons had paused to peer questioningly at the stranger.

She watches him quietly from her table as he walked over to the bar, noting a slight air of aggitation that seemed to surround him briefly defore it dispersed upon reaching his destination. Casting a brief glance towards her own cup, she notes with a grimace that the barest dregs of ale remain in it's depths.

Her yellow eyes flickering momentarily between the strange man and her empty cup, she sighs, making a decision. 'Besides,' she thought, shouldering her wares and travel nessessitys as she strode purposefully towards the bar as the man turned to face her, 'It's always pretty boring drinking alone in this place.'

She could feel his eyes on her has she ordered another glass of ale and ignored him for the moment as she took a deep swig from her cup, mulling over what to say.

"I got the same reaction when I first walked in, only they lost interest much faster," she began, observing the contents of her cup before raising it to her lips once again, "The locals find every new face interesting. " She turns towards him and holds out a hand, "My name's Aislynn Labyrintha," she said, a small smile on her features.

[Wynken]

I'm new as well. Welcome and thank you.

Watching the woman approach, Wynken's grin shifts and disappears as he tightens his lips and narrows his eyes. He looks more awkward than menacing, being caught slightly off guard, and he silently curses himself for appearing so inviting. He looks scrutinizingly from Aislynn's yellow eyes to her outstretched hand and allows a moment to pass.

The maid returns from the cellar with a fresh bottle of wine, and she surrenders it to the barkeep with a huff and a roll of her eyes before returning to her now impatient customers. Behind the bar, the man briefly fights with the bottle's cork before it becomes dislodged with a rather loud, POP! As Aislynn instinctually shifts her eyes to focus upon the bartender, Wynken's grin returns and he swiftly takes her hand, recapturing her attention.

"My name is Wynken", he says as his dark eyes peer deeply into Aislynn's own. His voice is lower than one may expect, but not overly so. It sounds almost paradoxical, caught in perfect balance between smooth and harsh.

Wynken regards her with curiosity as he considers the touch of her hand against his. It feels well worked as if accustomed to the trials of labor, yet a gentility exists there beneath the mildly calloused exterior. She is certainly bold and forthcoming, Wynken thinks as he continues to look her over, noting her atypical attire. I like a woman with a bit of character.

[Mistress-Of-The-Maze]

Same to you ^.^

Aislynn had been almost about to withdraw her hand when she felt a strong grip eclipse her hand the moment her gaze strayed from the unusual individual. 'It appears that he is not totally unsociable afterall,' she thought as Wynken introduced himself, his voice holding a certain quality to it that seemed rather pleasant to her ears.

Despite his foreboding aura, she found that he didn't unsettle her as he did the other patrons, though something about him struck her as a little off. She raised her eyes to his face and returned his inquisitive gaze, feeling a brief jolt of surprise when the face that she saw hidden beneath the dark cowl was not un-handsome. Cool, contemplative grey eyes met her yellow ones, their depths closed and guarded.

He stood at a height a least six feet, she noticed, and from what she could gather from the way he grasped her hand, he was some kind of seasoned swordsman.

Taking the initiative once more, she gently pryed her hand from his and leaned against the bar, her curious eyes not once leaving her companion, if such a word would ever fit such an obviously unpredictable person.

"What brings you to Underwood?" She asked conversationally, picking up her forgotten ale once more, "I don't mean to sound rude, but you do not look like the type of person usually found around here." Her nose crinkled a little as she smiled again, before adding as an afterthought. "Though of course, if you have no wish to tell me, then by all means ignore my question. ." She drained her cup as she waited from a reply and turned towards the barman to request another.

[Wynken]

Wynken draws back the hood of his traveler's cloak exposing his short black hair. It is clean, though, perhaps purposefully, unkempt in keeping with the remainder of his careless appearance. As Aislynn relaxes and resumes her drink, Wynken turns, facing the bar in time to witness as his goblet is finally topped off. He scoops it delicately into the palm of his right hand, the stem fitting snug between his ring and middle fingers. The bar tender offers a weak smile before marking the slate which keeps the tab of each patron, double this time for his trouble with the bottle, though no one took any notice.

Wynken looks into his glass as if it were at a distance beyond the bar. He had broken the intense stare that he leveled upon Aislynn only moments prior. He felt unthreatened. He had seen the woman's short swords, and, though he judged that she could adequately wield them, he considered them disadvantaged to his longer blade, and observed to himself, she would scarcely have one unsheathed before my dagger was against her throat. Always cold. Always calculating.

As she spoke, a smile creased his lips. There's that bold forthcoming. Such courage and strength. He recalls the woman who had previously shared his bed, Shrinking violets, all weak in body and in mind, scraping out an existence from the dregs of the city. Many intrigued, even excited, by the lives of murderers and thieves. He looked to Aislynn once more, his eyes surveying her as she continued her monologue. He kept odd company this night.

She finished and Wynken considered the last of her words. She cares little and we stand on even footing, or she cares too much and surrenders to me the advantage. In either case he felt secure, and so he answered saying, "I'm merely passing through...on business." Two half truths which together still failed to equal a whole. All mortal beings are only "passing through", though most are in no particular hurry to get where they're heading, he thought to himself, more of a philosophical musing than a moral justification. Lying was far from the worst of his capabilities.

Perhaps it was that the woman had piqued his curiosity, or the fact that the previous bottle of red had been emptied filling his cup that evening, but Wynken was feeling particularly liberal. He watched as Aislynn searched for the proper phrasing for her follow up questions. As she began to speak, he abruptly cut her off, shifting the conversation from his own past. "What of yourself? You speak of this place as if it is home, yet you appear different in comparison to the other patrons."

[Mistress-Of-The-Maze]

'He doesn't seem to appreciate being questioned,' Aislynn thought, feeling not at all surprised by the revelation. To be honest, she already knew he would evade her answer. She mulled over more questions, most of which were brought on by the vagueness of his answer. He seems very secretive… Is he an assassin? She looked him over appraisingly, noting the absence of his hood. His appearance, on a whole, seemed disheveled, almost as though he had no care for it. ‘Or perhaps he just has no time to deal with his appearance.’

Deciding on a query, she opened a mouth to speak before being interrupted with one of his own. A slight twinge of irritation flashed through her, briefly darkening her eyes with her ire before dissipating. She had given him plenty of time to ask, why had he waited till she was ready to speak? She eyed him coolly before a thought struck her. Perhaps he is trying to see if he can easily anger me? Well my friend, if that is the case, you will be disappointed.

Once, the thought did cross her mind that this man was dangerous. He certainly looked so, but then, in the times she had been travelling she had met many others he gave off the same impression. Dangerous or not, he seemed to mean her no harm at that moment in time. If he did, well, though she was obviously not up to his level of skill, she would be able to hold her own, if only to distract him so that she could run. “I travel through here often when I’m selling my work,” she replied, answering honestly, ”Though this is the first time I have ever stopped long enough to visit the tavern."

[Wynken]

Wynken saw the woman's face as it was momentarily skewed in obvious frustration. Her delicate elven features were even more appealing in contrast to those negative emotions. He meant her no physical harm, never being prone to senseless violence, his words and actions were always deliberate. However, he considered a bruised ego to be of no consequence if it would lead him to opportunity. Diplomacy was a lesson learned early by successful rogues, as survival is much more likely if you can garner at least some information using words rather than swords.

He grins as Aislynn settles her inner battle, the anger subsiding quickly. "Your work?", he inquires rhetorically, his eyes betraying the interest that his voice conceals. "Care to discuss it at my table?" He sweeps his left hand toward the corner of the tavern, inviting her to accompany him.

[Mistress-Of-The-Maze]

Yellow eyes brightened happily at the offer. She had always adored her art, ever since her father taught it to her and still delighted when others showed interest in it. She nodded, stray locks of auburn hair that had escaped from their binding bouncing with action. “Lead the way.” She grinned broadly at Wynken before shouldering her pack once more.

She followed him past various tables, the occupants of which looked up to watch the pair with poorly hidden curiosity, one or two of the more shady patrons almost leering. She watched the man’s back as he walked, almost silent and with a certain grace that was entrancing to watch.

For the first time she noticed his blade, her eyes glued to its snarled, aged appearance. It gave of an aura of darkness that seemed to be seeping into its wielder being making her want to shudder. Her eyes flitted back towards Wynken as the question of why he would carry such a sinister weapon came to mind.

Predictably, Wynken stopped at a table that offered both privacy and a view of the goings on around them. ‘Perhaps he’s a spy?’ she mused silently, taking a seat at the rough oak table and placing her pack at her feet, ‘he certainly has light feet for sneaking.’

Aislynn internally debated removing the belt her blades were slung upon, her eyes fixed on the man across from her before she carefully unclasped it, reasoning that she still had her hunting knife, though she thoroughly doubted it would be needed. Placing that at her feet also she turned towards Wynken, her expression open and friendly. “What do you wish to know?” she asked, crossing her arms comfortably and leaning back in her chair.

[Wynken]

No longer viewing her as an inconvenience, or, at best, a body with which to warm his bed, Wynken softens his features, playing in to the excitement which shows so plainly across Aislynn's face. Everyone has a story to tell, and, when prompted, they'll tell it, he thinks as she gathers her things and prepars to follow. All signs of her previous frustration had vanished, and along with it her sense of caution. Though he surmised them to be close in age, Wynken realized that her (at least partial) elven lineage meant that her appearance may not accurately foretell her years. Regardless, he considered her innocence to be child-like, which many would consider as a compliment. In his twisted mind, he saw only weakness.

Aislynn moves behind as Wynken cuts his way through the tavern heading for the location he previously occupied. He notes several onlookers, showing toothy grins. Many were withered and aged, showing signs of hardship rather than experience. These were sometimes the most bothersome of the city's unwholesome characters. As cornered animals, they fight with desperation. He pays them no attention, surveying them indirectly. Wynken sizes them up as he had done Aislynn moments ago, and he reaches a similar conclusion for each: unthreatening.

Reaching the table, Wynken slides in to a chair in the building's corner. He preferred the wall at his back. He regards Aislynn with incredulity as she removes her weapons and places them out of reach and upon the floor. Did she not see the stares we received on the short journey from the bar, he wondered to himself while again pondering her innocence.

“What do you wish to know?”, came the woman's voice, sounding sincere and altogether too chipper. Wynken sought to match her veracity, altering the tone and patterns of his speech. "First things first, what is it that you make with those crafter's hands of yours?"

[Mistress-Of-The-Maze]

Aislynn noticed a brief change in his expression when she removed the blades, his face seeming almost humorous in its incredulity. He believes that I’m leaving myself unarmed. she thought with a quiet chuckle, Naïve I may be, but I am not such a fool as to keep all my weapons in plain sight.

At his question, she glanced down at her hands, seeing the ever so slightly roughened skin from handling the tools of her trade. Most women would find the calluses she had gained over the years to be unattractive blemishes upon her flesh, Aislynn saw them as an achievement. Each and every mark was proof to her that she was good in her field, showing the effort she put into whatever she made. Whether or not others appreciated them fazed her very little. Her hands were her favourite feature.

‘Crafters hands…’ She looked up from her perusal, the description lingering in her head, ‘One of the more generous ways to describe them.

“I’m a wood carver,” she answered simply, “I make a lot of things though I suppose I dabble a little in carpentry. I make mostly musical instruments, toys for children and the occaisional pieces of furniture when requested.” She shrugged. While enjoyable in their own right, furniture and toys were not by far as rewarding as the occaisional bow and staff she would create.

A wistful smile twitched at her face for a moment as she recalled a beautiful staff she had recently sold. ‘A tall elegant piece, slender and gleaming magnificently after it had been polished. The top resembled a pair of snakes, their teeth bared as though the were preparing to strike at each other while the shaft showed their bodys, etched with faint scales and coiled together in a spiral that reached all the way to the base. It had taken days to select the bough out of which to carve it and even longer for the piece to be finished.

Aislynn smothered a sigh, deeply regretting that she was unable to present it as an example of her work, the rest of her wares seeming childish to her in comparison. Her thoughts then returned to Wynken, her eyes taking in his rugged features once more as she pondered on her brash decision to join him at his table. ‘I hope I don’t make a bad habit of being impulsive,’ she thought, mentally cringing at how foolish her overly trusting behaviour must have seemed to the man.

"What of you?" she asked, silently wondering if he would be more inclined to answer.

[Wynken]

Wynken watches with understanding as the woman regards her hands, a blend of gratitude and pride welling within her eyes. He had guessed correctly that she was an artisan rather than a merchant, but, more importantly, that she wore the evidence of her trade as a badge rather than a burden. As she speaks, Wynken nods and furrows his brow, actively listening to show that he's attentive. He notes the shrug and the vacant look of recollection as she displays some of her handiwork. Perhaps she hides something from me, but no matter. All will be known in time, was his thought as he examined her work.

In his time before the malnourishment and idle hours of prison had robbed him of ability, Wynken was an avid "collector" of such baubles. He much preferred the workings of precious stones and metals to those of wood, but he was not unfamiliar with the appraisal of such items. "These are exquisite", he smiles as he speaks in an inconspicuously exaggerated tone. He wished to stroke Aislynn's ego and found that he needn't lie to do so, for the pieces were indeed finely crafted.

"What of you", he heard her ask, and he wondered how well his appearance would lend itself to his answer. "As I said, I'm here on business, and it appears that I may have found more. Perhaps you and I may come to some kind of agreement?", he asks leaning across the table. "If you would permit me to take a few of your works, one or two until I have gained your full confidence, I could try my hand at selling them on your behalf. I'll take a commission of the profit and grant the rest to you." He pauses, searching her eyes for acceptance or denial. "If you find that I have a knack for it, or are otherwise pleased with the service, it may afford you more time to create such wondrous items rather than spend it bartering with ungrateful merchants who refuse to recognize...and pay", he says with added emphasis, "the true value of your art."

Wynken leans back as he awaits reply. He is pleased with himself, and watches Aislynn intensely. Merchants and private collectors are much more inclined to pay for items with mysterious or intriguing histories, and Wynken imagined that he could weave a tale with far greater success than the bright and innocent woman before him. I'll attempt to sell the items for far greater than Aislynn had, give her what she expects, and pocket the rest. If the venture proves unsuccessful, I'll lose nothing. However, in the event that I begin to establish contacts in the various cities of the realm, it would be wise of me to operate a front. That is, to be involved in a legitimate business in order to facilitate those dealings that are less respectable.

[Mistress-Of-The-Maze]

The instant he spoke his offer, alarm bells started ringing in Aislynn’s head. “You wish to sell my work?” she asked slowly, her eyes narrowing, ’ I wonder…’ she mimicked his action and reclined in her chair, observing his expression. A smug glint was evident in his silver eyes while his lips held the barest twitch of a grin as he returned her observation, obviously expecting her to just agree.

She felt herself bristle at the thought. ’Just how simple does he deem me to be?’ Taking on an air of considering her offer, she turned her gaze towards the bar, twitching uncomfortably when she saw that eyes were still fixed on the pair. Wynken possessed a silver tongue, that much she was certain. He was also most likely humouring her with his friendly behaviour, his interest laying in using her and her wares for some other purpose. Her shoulders drooped a little; embarrassment from her gullibility flooding her face, making her fervently hope the table’s other occupant couldn’t see it.

Still, his offer held some appeal. She was never very good at bartering a decent price for her items from the merchants. If she did accept, Wynken may be able to improve what little profit she made, even if it is only by a small margin. The only downside that prevented her agreement was concern that she would somehow be roped into something illegal. ’But then...’ she reasoned, ’He doesn’t seem to be the sort of person to take such a risk with someone he has just become acquainted with. He is more than likely trying to trick me. I will have to tread carefully.’

“If I was to agree...,” she queried tentatively while turning back to him, her eyes intent upon his, searching for any sign of dishonesty, “What would your commission fee be from the takings?”

[Wynken]

Wynken had expected the ensuing flood of emotion. He is, after all, a stranger to Aislynn, and he looks the part of a shady one at that. He watched her process her feelings; the narrowed eyes, the forlorn glance toward the bar, nothing was lost to his keen sensibilities.

"I would take a mere fraction of the earnings in exchange for my time and efforts", he answered, attempting to control the movement of his eyes so as to not betray himself to her. Many individuals possess an uncanny ability to discern the truth, whether magical or otherwise. Another lesson in diplomacy that Wynken had learned well was to speak in generalities if need be and half truths as often as possible.

Thinking to choose his words carefully, Wynken considered, I hadn't thought that she was over interested in profit, but perhaps I underestimate the appeal of having more time to indulge in her craft. He continued saying, "You would of course be able to name your own terms." Sensing Aislynn's nervousness, Wynken considers silently, I mustn't make her feel threatened. In an attempt to calm her by offering an escape, Wynken offers, "I understand that it's not exactly an offer you can't refuse. If you wish, we can drop it or merely go our seperate ways." He pauses a moment, until speaking softer than he had in the past and shying slightly, "I only thought that you may appreciate the offer, but it would certainly be a mutually beneficial partnership. We would both stand to gain with little to lose.

[Mistress-Of-The-Maze]

Aislynn bit her lip, her yellow eyes flickering uncertainly as she considered her options. Wynken seemed to mean no trickery as far as her eyes could tell and he was obviously aware of her suspicion, automatically giving her the chance to walk away. Strangely, she felt calmer as his voice became softer, almost awkward if she could fool herself into thinking it as he explained his thoughts behind the idea.

She found herself looking upon the offer more favorably as her mind flooded ideas of what she could make with the time it would free her and the tools she could buy if the endeavor proved successful. Perhaps she would be able to indulge in the creation of what she loved the most, rather than leaving it as a pass time for when all else was finished.

’ A mutually beneficial partnership,’ he had said. To agree would mean that she would have to meet with him in order to provide the items and to collect her share of the earnings. In conducting business with this man, she was certain to be on her toes during each encounter. Aislynn felt a slight thrill of excitement that she fought to to cover with a mask of indifference while turning her attention towards the man still patiently waiting for her answer. Maybe she would even be able to unravel the cause of this mysterious unapproachable aura that seemed to envelope him, keeping all but a fearless or foolish few from approaching, provided she gained enough of his trust.

Setting her features into what she hoped was a business like expression, she straightened her posture, flicking strands of auburn hair away from her eyes. “My terms will be few,” she began, “If I am to agree, I would wish for the profits to be split accorded to an amount we will both decide upon. When the items are ready to be sold, I would also appreciate a way in order to easily contact you. The place in which we will meet so that I may provide my work to you is your decision so long as it is not a place of ill-repute. As for anything else." She paused for a moment, searching for anything she may have missed, "I suppose that as long as it isn’t too illegal and I will suffer no repercussions from it, you can do what you wish.”

She leaned forward, holding Wyken's grey gaze with her own. “Does that sound fair to you?” she inquired, waiting on tenterhooks for his reply.

[Wynken]

I'm stealing your convention for portraying thoughts. It's much cleaner than coloring them the same as speech. =)

He could have retched. 'Even pretending to be so vulnerable makes me ill', he thought regarding his previous words. As he awaits Aislynn's reply, Wynken's eyes wander the room falling upon his glass of cheap wine before coming to rest upon the woman once more. 'If my old enemies could see me now. Conning woodwork from elves. A street peddler.' He nearly wished that he hadn't stolen in to his father's house those years ago, and he considered again the relative comfort and privilege he had known. 'I'm no longer the man I once was, and I'm far from the streets on which I carved out an existence', he reminds himself, pushing aside those thoughts of weakness. 'No better opportunity has presented itself here, and this one is not without possibility'.

Wynken finishes his contemplation as Aislynn begins to issue her terms. Had he been paying her his full attention, he may have fallen from his seat. As it were, he digests her words slowly between his own thoughts and recollections, affording him the opportunity to maintain his composure. Of all the surprises he encountered this evening, this was the least expected and the most pleasant. He had underestimated one of them; either his prowess in manipulation or Aislynn's penchant for intrigue.

Wynken relaxes his features, relinquishing the kind facade and slowly resuming normalcy. He produces an herbal parchment and chemically enhanced tinder from a pouch on the front of his belt. As it flares to life, a staunch but not overly repugnant odor accompanies the heavy smoke which lingers in wisps before his face.

"Does that sound fair to you", she says, her eyes betraying anticipation. He wasn't concerned with fairness, but in truth it most certainly did. Between breaths of smoke, Wynken nods in agreement and says, "I'll need some manner of item list complete with previous prices. Contact may be difficult, as I intend to travel, but regularly scheduled meetings will work well. You had previously implied that you venture in to the city. Perhaps a location beyond its borders would be fitting and convenient?" He thinks to add inconspicuous, but lets it go at that. 'No matter how unethical my sales methods will be, its not like we're dealing illegal items. "As for my fee", he continues, "I'll resume ten percent of the earnings, and the rest will be delivered to you."

[Mistress-Of-The-Maze]

I don't mind :3, it makes their spoken voices seem 'louder' in my opinion. Sorry about how short this post is, I was in a bit of a rush ^.^'

‘Ten percent seems a pretty small amount to request,’ she thought, feeling slightly puzzled, ‘surely he doesn’t expect my wares to fetch a high price?’ A waft of smoke drifted towards her as Wynken lazily puffs at the rolled up piece of parchment. A faint tug of nostalgia washed over her at the smell before it was briskly pushed aside. ‘Now is not the time to dwell on such things,’ she admonished mentally.

“A list will be fairly simple to create,” she replied, rummaging through her bag for a piece of parchment as she spoke, “if you are in no immediate hurry, I can write it for you now.” As her search proved fruitless, her brow furrowed. Sending a brief apologetic look towards the man, she began to search her bag more thoroughly, removing items in favour of seeing its contents more clearly.

Dislodged from his comfortable sleeping arrangement in Aislynn’s haste, her familiar unfurled himself from the coil he had previously twisted his currently serpent-like body into. Miss-matched green and blue eyes shot daggers towards his mistress for the interruption as he opened his sharp jaws in a disgruntled yawn. He turned to look across the table curiously, deeming that ignoring the young woman would be the most adequate punishment for her part in his plight. His fork tongue tasting the air, Yukito stared coldly at the man, finding his scent to be harsh and tinged with old blood.

Aislynn allowed a triumphant grin to split her features as her questing hands seized her quarry, lifting it from the bag in order to slap it onto the table with an audible thump. A sharp hissing sound caught her ears, causing her to peer curiously at it’s source. A bolt of fear shot through her as the realisation that she had allowed him to be seen set in. She quickly reached forward to grasp the small silver snake, only to recoil as he snapped angrily at her fingers in favour of resuming his glaring match with Wynken.

[Wynken]

Unamused, Wynken had watched as Aislynn scoured the large traveling sack. He was glad that she was so preoccupied, as it afforded him time to more fully consider his situation. He had noted a brief look of confusion on Aislynn's face as he named his fee. For all of his experience with interrogation and espionage, he had little familiarity with the economics of business negotiation. Since he had little intent to honor logistics, he had merely neglected them.

As the woman emptied the contents of her pack unto the table before him, Wynken warily surveyed the tavern. He sighs inwardly, realizing that she is too intent on her search to recognize the attention her actions solicited from the tables nearest their own. He locks eyes with a handful of offenders, sending the unspoken signal that their audience is not appreciated, and, in so doing, Wynken sees a hint of shock upon the many faces now looking his way.

Hearing a serpent's hiss, Wynken turns his eyes back to the table and is met by the stare of a remarkable silver snake. He watches Aislynn fuss with it unsuccessfully and asks, "A pet of yours?"

[Mistress-Of-The-Maze]

Aislynn paused for a moment, the hand that had been reaching once more for Yukito halting. 'A pet?' she thought, unsure how to answer the question. To say yes, Yukito would no doubt be more trouble than he was already proving to be. And to say no... She looked around the table, noting the attention her earlier display had garnered and the eyes currently fixed upon her familiar. She could almost see the cogs turning in the heads some of them as their eyes took in his peculiar colour and eyes.

"yes, he's a pet," she answered, wanting nothing more than to gather the small serpent up and shove him back into the confines of her bag, "Though deffinitly not the most obedient." As Yukito turned to eye her disdainfull at her proclaimation, Aislynn silently prayed to any deity she could think of that he would not change forms in such an open place. "If you're going to angry with me," she hisses at him under her breath, " Then by all means, do so when I'm not in the middle of a tavern full of people more than willing to murder me for you."

Flicking out his tongue in a gesture that had he not been a snake, would have most likely been insolent, Yukito slithered towards her, biting back the retort he fervently wished to send towards his mistress. Baring his fangs threateningly as she once more tryed to hide him away, Yukito coiled himself before her, his jeweled eyes fixed on the man across from them. 'Aislynn, if you agree to deal with him you're an even bigger fool than I already thought.'

Aislynn looked down at him helplessly only to see that he had situated himself on the parchement she had unearthed him for. She glared at the creature which he immediately returned with a smug glint in his slanted eyes. "Perhaps I should have sold you when I had the chance." she muttered. God knows there had been plenty of offers on the odd occaision he became too bored to stay hidden. Alot of which came from people who were not inclined to take no for an answer. She had lost count of the amount of times she had narrowly escaped the sharp end of a blade because of her familiar. ' Though, I guess this time was more my fault...'

Out of habit from the previous situations like this, Aislynn slowly withdrew the steel dagger from her boot, crossing her legs and pretending to be examining her laces in order to mask it. After placing it upon her lap, securey within arms reach should trouble become evident, she calmed somewhat and returned her attention to Wynken, intent upon continuing despite Yukito's unhelpfull interruption.

[Wynken]

Wynken hadn't missed the cognition in the serpent's eyes, its brilliant orbs possessed of intellect and understanding. He watched as it examined him, wary of his intentions and perhaps guessing them more accurately than its master. 'Who is this girl that befriends sentient snakes and fearlessly approaches strangers', Wynken mused to himself, appreciating the danger...and value...of such a creature.

He carefully watches Aislynn's motions, sizing her up again in light of these new revelations. As she bends to tend her boot, Wynken considers the suspicious act, 'there's a snake on the table, and she's concerned that her laces are loose?' Suppressing the urge to snicker, he finds her eyes once more. "I believe that you were going to make me a list?", he remarks, casting a sarcastic glance toward the snake who looked quite peaceful atop the parchment.

Looking away, he again surveys the room. The initial interest in the snake had passes, but some of the more observant (and less savory) patrons could be seen making obvious conversation regarding the events which were transpiring at their small table in the dim corner of the Peaceful Promenade. Wynken knew better than to assume anyone would make trouble in so occupied a place, but he couldn't help but think to himself, 'I wonder if the proprietors appreciate irony?'.

"It would be wise of you to sleep with one eye open, or to watch your back if a room is not your destination", he spoke casually while motioning with his eyes toward the onlookers two tables over.

[Mistress-Of-The-Maze]

At the sound of Wynken’s amused tone, Aislynn fought the urge to groan and hide her face in embarrassment. ‘If the man hadn’t thought me a laughing stock before...’ she thought, ‘He most certainly does now.’ Yukito observed at his mistress’s self-conscious expression with a pleased air. Perhaps now she would think more wisely before proceeding further.

Taking advantage of his momentary distraction, Aislynn’s hand darted forward in a last ditch attempt to remove her familiar from the table. Yukito almost rolled his eyes, giving her fingers a sharp warning bite to inform her he had no plans to budge yet. Aislynn cradled her fingers; cursing bloody murder at the creature she never seemed to have any control over. She looked up to check that Wynken had not seen the exchange and saw that his eyes were elsewhere.

Aislynn glanced down at the bite she had received from Yukito and frowned, noting two small puncture marks on her skin with tiny crimson droplets of blood slowly oozing from them. “Anyone would think a familiar would rather die before hurting its own mistress,” she grumbled darkly, raising the small injury to her lips to lap away the blood. She surveyed it for a moment, surmising that it wasn’t very deep before raising her good hand, gently caressing the injury with her fingers.

"It would be wise of you to sleep with one eye open, or to watch your back if a room is not your destination" She started a little at the sound of his voice and looked up, her fingers falling away to reveal perfectly healed skin with only a slight redness left behind. Grey eyes flicked towards some men a few tables away, beckoning her to look for herself.

Following his gaze with her own, she felt a chill run down her spine, hearing snippets of conversation from the tables closest. ‘Perhaps I should leave before these people gather enough courage to approach.’ She mused, eyeing them warily. Yukito hissed approvingly, taking his eyes from Wynken for a moment in order to survey the other possible threats to his mistress.

“I have no intention of staying the night but I agree…” Aislynn replied, her eyes flickering towards that other table every few seconds. ‘Supposing they follow me when I leave?’ she thought, sighing, ‘I guess I have no choice but to make haste on the way home and hope they don’t have ranged weapons.’ She reached down towards her weapons and replaced them upon her back, her quick fingers easily snapping the belt buckle into place.

She looked back towards Wynken, curious to see whether he would approve of her donning her weapons once more or find it futile. She shook her head to clear it of the silly notion. "I don't suppose it would be possible to provide the list another time?" she asked. 'Preferably when I'm not accidently inviting people to slaughter me in my sleep.'

[Wynken]

Seems like a good place to finish up, though it seems as if our characters may be meeting again sometime soon. =)

Wynken reads the uneasiness in Aislynn's face, and ,as she becomes increasingly unnerved, he notes how different they truly are. 'For the first time tonight, I feel at home. All else has been so forced, so foreign.' He surveys the interested patrons once more, gauging their response as Aislynn reaches for her weapons. Gruff laughter follows drunken banter as they no doubt find the prospect of fighting her amusing. Wynken watches the woman's quick and dexterous fingers work the clasp upon her baldric, and he considers that the men may find her more trouble than she's worth. He silently nods approval as she finishes securing her weapons, though he had already determined that she won't be needing them.

As he watches Aislynn's eyes dart around the room, betraying her fear and her fragility, Wynken sees the scene juxtaposed to another. He was nearly fifteen years of age and accustomed to his existence, homeless and alone. However, his actions had recently drawn the attention of a large thieves guild in his distant home city of Rivalle. Seeing the value in working with such an established band, he eagerly accepted his first contract. A mission of escort.

The previous city warden had been prosecuted for his unethical involvement with the city's crime syndicates, and his replacement was attracting men of valor and justice to "rid the streets of such vile and traitorous rogues". Emboldened and refusing to "cooperate", the guards began to impede the progress of smuggling rings and close the guild's various fences. Tension rose as the patrolmen who had often looked the other way in order to line their own pockets were sublimated, but the most recent of the lawful acts had finally struck a cord. A merchant caravan transporting gems from the kingdom's south had been pilfered. However, as the guild's lapidaries cut and set the gems for sale, city guards stormed the workshop and reclaimed the plunder.

A once loyal comrade and supporter of the warden was swayed by the burden of his own greed. He had come to the thieves guild promising information that would soil his friend's reputation, and possibly lead to his removal or withdrawal. The guild placed his well keeping into Wynken's hands until his demands could be met and anonymity secured. As Wynken sat with him in the tavern that evening, the man's actions were skittish just as Aislynn's had become. He showed a constant look of concern and peered over his shoulder at other patrons as they came and went.

Wynken turns his attention back to Aislynn as she asks to conclude the meeting and provide him with the needed information at a later time. "Let us establish a meeting place. If it makes you feel secure", he says, emphasizing the word feel so as to imply that it would be illusionary, "I need not know where you live." Aislynn nods in agreement, elated to be finished and away from the situation. She had considered an appropriate meeting place not far from the city and a safe distance from her home, and she offered directions and distinguishing landmarks. "A week from today, just after sunrise."

As Wynken stands, Aislynn's shows signs of fear and she shoots an uneasy glance toward the table of thugs who were now showing great interest in their affairs. He grinned at her, eyes locked on that distant table and said, "what kind of businessman would I be if I didn't protect my investment? Pack your things and prepare to leave. You won't be followed." With that he moves past her striding casually up to the four gentlemen who seem to instantly sober upon his approach. Wynken briskly occupies an empty chair at their table, slamming a throwing blade into the hard oak top where it quivers slightly. He stares at each of them, issuing a silent challenge, daring them to move. As Aislynn makes for the exit, no one does.

[Mistress-Of-The-Maze]

I agree, It certainly looks like things are wrapping up for this encounter ^.^ We'll have to decide where the next will be now xD. By the way, sorry about how brief this post is :3

‘Perhaps I seem a little skittish to him?’ she thought, bristling at the implication at what she though was his assumption of her inability to protect herself, her eyes narrowing at what she deemed an impish grin upon his face. Still, she was unwilling to look a gift horse in the mouth and resumed the task of packing away her things, sweeping Yukito into her bag after finding him more inclined to being removed.

“You let me pick you up now…” she grumbled, fastening the clasps of her bag before slinging it over her shoulder. A muffled chuckled seeped through the fabric, causing the young woman to roll her eyes. She walked firsts towards the bar, placing some coins upon its wooden surface in order in payment for her drinks before heading towards the bar.

A loud thud reached her ears from near to where she had previously sat, causing her to turn quick enough to observe Wynken take a seat at the table those four men were sat, a sharp looking blade sticking up from the scarred surface, moving slightly from side to side in a way that suggested it had recently been slammed there.

Aislynn muffled a chuckle before turning towards the door and slipping through it. The look on their faces and the speed in which all talk had stopped was hilarious. It was obvious many of the patrons here feared him in some way or another. ‘I wonder why I don’t?’ she mused.

[Taskmienster]

The Stranger: I’m going to be working for you guys on this thread, and since your still new and haven’t really had a good look at what the rubric is like applied to your own writing I’m going to be adding commentary as I see fit. If you want more help with it, or what to know what I mean by certain things, feel free to PM me and I’ll help you as much as I can.



Continuity 6

Wynken :: Your opening, with the flashback, was an interesting way to give the reader the history of your character. I liked the way it was written, though I would suggest that you be careful not to overuse that technique in future threads. It’s a good way to open, but using it too often will make it not so novel anymore.

Setting 4

Wynken :: The first two posts you have seem to be contradicting each other on where you are. At one point, in the beginning of the second post, you were walking towards the bar. But the first post made it seem like you were already there.

:: Remember, the setting doesn’t disappear just because you already described it a little once. You can also show setting through more means than just sight, such as what you hear, taste, feel, and smell. Those can add to the setting well, creating something much easier for the reader to get into and visualize as they read.

Pacing 4

Wynken :: You write a lot of the same way in this thread as you did in the other that I’m in with you. You tend to write more philosophically with a deeper narrative than most. At times, such as when it is intersperced with something more gripping and compelling it is a very useful way to write. In threads that are going slowly, or at a certain point in a thread that is going slowly, they tend to make the pacing go slower. Be careful not to overemphasize the philosophical without reason, for example if it is what your character tends to think or regards how he acts. If that’s the case, put in something with the narrative that reflects that the deep aspects of the post is not just your writing, but your characters own personal mulling as well. That adds not only to the persona of the character, but also adds to the reason why the pace is slowed.

Dialogue 3.5

:: Writing your dialogue in color isn’t necessary. You can write it in regular text. However, both of you use something that a lot of people don’t tend to grasp, and that is the use of synonyms for “said”. You don’t always type “said” after you write your dialogue; you use words like “queried” and taking time to point out pauses. That sort of thing adds a lot to the dialogue, how it was intended to be spoken, and what it was intended to mean. It is a great way to keep the dialogue fresh, as well as give the reader different emphasis’ on what is said and how it is said.

:: On another note, you both seem to do something that is not necessarily a writing ‘no no’ but something that just causes confusion for the reader at times. You write dialogue, both internal thoughts and spoken word, throughout paragraphs. When you do that it slows the pacing considerably, and takes away from whatever emphasis you are trying to place on what you are saying. If you write out your dialogue in blocks, either at the beginning or end of a paragraph, you can add your emphasis on how it was said afterwards (if its in the beginning) and still have the strength behind it. Otherwise, when you write, it gets really confusing, forcing the reader to shift between thoughts and words and the rest of the paragraph as well.

:: You also don’t have to repeat what was just said by the other writer. As a reader, it is a little annoying reading the same things twice. Instead, you can just respond, maybe make a comment about what was said without re-writing the entire dialogue.

Action 4.5

:: You can show action through your movements and what you do, as much as anything. How you move and why you move is indicative of your personality, but quirks and habits are also action based things to remember and concentrate on. It doesn’t mean that you are swinging a sword or fighting, it just means that you have something in the way you do things that hint at the characters. Try and remember to incorporate that into the thread and you’ll do well in the future.

Persona 5

:: A lot of my commentary on persona can be summed up by what I said in dialogue and action. Take the time to remember that characters have personalities other than their immediate actions. You can show the personality of your characters through your narrative, dialogue, and actions. Focus on those, and the reason you do them, and you’ll be fine here.

Technique 4

:: Both of you went with a present tense way of writing, which is something that not a lot of people do very often. The majority of writing on Althanas is third person-past tense, but that’s not to say it’s the only way to write. You did very well in writing the present tense. However, there are a few little parts of the thread that you use past tense instead in place of when you should have stuck to the present. There wasn’t a lot of advanced technique to keep the reader drawn in, or paint a picture of something more than the plain setting. Try and throw in a few metaphors here and there, they don’t have to be huge awe-inspiring ones, but anything will help quite a bit.

Mechanics 5

:: Both of you could use a little bit of time from the moment you post till the time when you look away. Take the time to read out the post, either outloud (which is always good) or even just to yourself. It will help you see mistakes that are rather common without automatically mentally correcting them while you write. There are a few comma errors here and there, as well as a few other little errors like word choice and such.

Mistress ::

[[Taking the initiative once more, she gently pryed her hand from his and leaned against the bar, her curious eyes not once leaving her companion, if such a word would ever fit such an obviously unpredictable person.]] This is from the 5th post :: It is quite a run on sentence. You can split that up, and it will flow much better as well as slow the pacing down a little bit.

Clarity 4

:: When you write things like “how she looks elven”, or noticing her “workers hands”, or commenting about “the wicked sword”… things like that are little things that are close to metagaming. You don’t have to do something bad when you metagame, it simply means knowing things that you can find OOC’ly instead of knowing it IC’ly. To avoid that, give a reason why you know that she is elven, like that her ears are pointed or her face is slanted. If you are familiar with a wood-worker, or any toiler that makes things like that, then make a literary note of that and it’ll make more sense. Likewise, how would Aislynn sense an “aura of darkness” around a sword on someone’s hip? Is it a feeling because he seems sketch that the sword does too? Or can you actually sense that kind of thing. Remember, just because you know that there is something evil attached to the sword from OOC knowledge doesn’t mean you have to bring it into the IC setting.

Wild Card 4


Score: 44

Rewards:

Wynken :: 425 exp | 145 gold

Mistress of the Maze :: 425 exp | 145 gold

[Taskmienster]

Exp and Gp added!