B.I.G.
12-22-10, 12:35 PM
((Closed to Christina Bredith, etc))
The morning sun pierced the veil of the thin linen curtains that adorned Bartleby's bedroom window, illuminating the small piece of parchment he held in his hand. The deep red quilts that covered his bed contrasted with the white marble floors of the room. He had always enjoyed contrasting colors.
Before him stood a tall man, dressed in a combination of formal wear and elegant, decorative armor. The man's golden hair was mid length and combed back. His beard was well kept and trimmed. He was both pristine and intimidating.
" Do you understand what must be done? "
Bartleby inspected the letter he had been given a second time, taking great care not to overlook any details. His assignment was simple enough, though the reasons behind it's existence were, as usual, unknown to him.
" Yes, Father. I understand the assignment, but I do not understand why it must be done this way. Do we not have agents of our own that could accomplish such a task? "
Bartleby's father was, like him, a quiet man, but he spoke with conviction. His fierce, blue eyes commanded unquestioning loyalty, and to have them fixated on you was to stare into the mouth of a lion.
" You are not to question the methods of the Elders. Carry out your assignment and report to me when it is complete. "
Without another word, the golden-haired giant of a man that was Bartleby's father turned about and left the young man's chambers. Staring once again at the small letter in his hand, Bartleby read it once more to himself.
~~~~~~~
" Journey to the Silver Pub. You will sit in the table furthest to the right, your back to the wall. Place the feather you have been given on the table and wait for our agents to arrive. Once they have done so, brief them on their assignment. You will then rent out a room and remain within the inn until our agents have returned from their mission. "
~~~~~~~
Taking in a short breath, Bartleby folded the letter and placed it into his jacket pocket, along with the black feather that came with it. He retrieved a small sack of coins from his bedside drawer, a single change of clothes from the dresser beside the window and an unassuming wool sack to carry it all in. Lastly, Bartleby opened his closet doors and knelt down on one knee. On the floor in his closet was a small brass box, hand crafted with intricate designs. He opened the box, revealing a small, steel dagger, sheathed in silver and resting on a bed of red velvet. He took the dagger in hand and concealed it within his coat. His father had always told him that even if your mission is a peaceful one, you should always prepare for violence.
Once he had finished gathering his provisions, Bartleby left his family's manor in northern Radasanth and made his way southward towards the inn known as The Silver Pub. One of the servants offered to take him by carriage, but Bartleby declined. He did not often get the chance to leave the northern part of the city, and when he was allowed to do so, he preferred to travel on foot. It was easier to take in the scenery that way.
~~~~~~~
Bartleby arrived at the Silver Pub a few hours after he had left the north end. He had taken his time journeying to the inn, as it was still early in the afternoon and the agents he was to meet with were not due to arrive until sundown.
Upon entering the tavern, he was met with more than a few inquisitive looks. The busy crowd had not yet arrived as it was still early, but the staff and a few of the more dedicated customers seemed surprised to see a nobleman enter, and rightly so. Bartleby nodded in respect and made his way to the table in the far right corner of the room. He sat with his back against the wall, as instructed, and set his sack of provisions on the floor next to him. He took a moment to look over the room.
There were around a dozen circular tables, each distanced equally from the others. The floors and walls were made of oak and hadn't seen much care over the years. Many of the floor boards were loose or cracked. The ceiling was high, and from it, a makeshift chandelier made of deer antlers hung over the center of the room. To his right was a staircase that must have led to the rooms. The railing seemed unstable at best.
A few moments after Bartleby sat down, a young waitress made her way over to him. She was dressed in a simple, short black dress with a white, frilled apron tied around her front. She had rounded features and bright green eyes. Her lips were soft pink and pursed, and her black, wavy hair was tied up in a pony tail. She placed one hand on her hip and cocked her head at the young nobleman.
" You lost? " she said with a gentle, but rasped voice.
Bartleby felt somewhat uneasy with her inquiry. Perhaps he should have dressed less conspicuously. " I beg your pardon? "
The young woman chuckled and flashed a flawless smile. " Well, ya just don't look like the typical kinda customers we get 'round here. "
Behind the young woman, a deep, gruff voice shouted from the area of the bar. " Louise you leave that boy alone! He ain't hurtin' nobody. " The young woman turned sharply and shouted back at the grizzled old man.
" I ain't botherin' him! I'm just makin' friendly conversation! " She turned back to Bartleby, leaning on his table with one hand. " Ain't that right sugar? " She flashed that neck-breaking smile at him again and giggled. He could feel his cheeks flush.
" No trouble at all miss. " Bartleby tried his best to maintain eye contact. Turning away would only make his nervousness more apparent.
The young woman smiled yet again and stood upright, both hands on her hips. " So, what'll it be honey? "
Bartleby smiled politely back at her and spoke softly. " Tea, please. " The young woman stared at Bartleby for a moment, shamelessly looking him over from head to toe. " Comin' right up! " She said as she turned away and made off towards the kitchen.
Bartleby smiled to himself for a moment, taking in all that had transpired. But before he could get lost in his own thoughts, the memory of his assignment flashed in his mind. Bartleby's smile faded, and a stern look came over his face. He reached into his jacket pocket and removed the raven's feather, placing it on the center of the table. He folded his hands in his lap and waited. It wouldn't be long now.
The morning sun pierced the veil of the thin linen curtains that adorned Bartleby's bedroom window, illuminating the small piece of parchment he held in his hand. The deep red quilts that covered his bed contrasted with the white marble floors of the room. He had always enjoyed contrasting colors.
Before him stood a tall man, dressed in a combination of formal wear and elegant, decorative armor. The man's golden hair was mid length and combed back. His beard was well kept and trimmed. He was both pristine and intimidating.
" Do you understand what must be done? "
Bartleby inspected the letter he had been given a second time, taking great care not to overlook any details. His assignment was simple enough, though the reasons behind it's existence were, as usual, unknown to him.
" Yes, Father. I understand the assignment, but I do not understand why it must be done this way. Do we not have agents of our own that could accomplish such a task? "
Bartleby's father was, like him, a quiet man, but he spoke with conviction. His fierce, blue eyes commanded unquestioning loyalty, and to have them fixated on you was to stare into the mouth of a lion.
" You are not to question the methods of the Elders. Carry out your assignment and report to me when it is complete. "
Without another word, the golden-haired giant of a man that was Bartleby's father turned about and left the young man's chambers. Staring once again at the small letter in his hand, Bartleby read it once more to himself.
~~~~~~~
" Journey to the Silver Pub. You will sit in the table furthest to the right, your back to the wall. Place the feather you have been given on the table and wait for our agents to arrive. Once they have done so, brief them on their assignment. You will then rent out a room and remain within the inn until our agents have returned from their mission. "
~~~~~~~
Taking in a short breath, Bartleby folded the letter and placed it into his jacket pocket, along with the black feather that came with it. He retrieved a small sack of coins from his bedside drawer, a single change of clothes from the dresser beside the window and an unassuming wool sack to carry it all in. Lastly, Bartleby opened his closet doors and knelt down on one knee. On the floor in his closet was a small brass box, hand crafted with intricate designs. He opened the box, revealing a small, steel dagger, sheathed in silver and resting on a bed of red velvet. He took the dagger in hand and concealed it within his coat. His father had always told him that even if your mission is a peaceful one, you should always prepare for violence.
Once he had finished gathering his provisions, Bartleby left his family's manor in northern Radasanth and made his way southward towards the inn known as The Silver Pub. One of the servants offered to take him by carriage, but Bartleby declined. He did not often get the chance to leave the northern part of the city, and when he was allowed to do so, he preferred to travel on foot. It was easier to take in the scenery that way.
~~~~~~~
Bartleby arrived at the Silver Pub a few hours after he had left the north end. He had taken his time journeying to the inn, as it was still early in the afternoon and the agents he was to meet with were not due to arrive until sundown.
Upon entering the tavern, he was met with more than a few inquisitive looks. The busy crowd had not yet arrived as it was still early, but the staff and a few of the more dedicated customers seemed surprised to see a nobleman enter, and rightly so. Bartleby nodded in respect and made his way to the table in the far right corner of the room. He sat with his back against the wall, as instructed, and set his sack of provisions on the floor next to him. He took a moment to look over the room.
There were around a dozen circular tables, each distanced equally from the others. The floors and walls were made of oak and hadn't seen much care over the years. Many of the floor boards were loose or cracked. The ceiling was high, and from it, a makeshift chandelier made of deer antlers hung over the center of the room. To his right was a staircase that must have led to the rooms. The railing seemed unstable at best.
A few moments after Bartleby sat down, a young waitress made her way over to him. She was dressed in a simple, short black dress with a white, frilled apron tied around her front. She had rounded features and bright green eyes. Her lips were soft pink and pursed, and her black, wavy hair was tied up in a pony tail. She placed one hand on her hip and cocked her head at the young nobleman.
" You lost? " she said with a gentle, but rasped voice.
Bartleby felt somewhat uneasy with her inquiry. Perhaps he should have dressed less conspicuously. " I beg your pardon? "
The young woman chuckled and flashed a flawless smile. " Well, ya just don't look like the typical kinda customers we get 'round here. "
Behind the young woman, a deep, gruff voice shouted from the area of the bar. " Louise you leave that boy alone! He ain't hurtin' nobody. " The young woman turned sharply and shouted back at the grizzled old man.
" I ain't botherin' him! I'm just makin' friendly conversation! " She turned back to Bartleby, leaning on his table with one hand. " Ain't that right sugar? " She flashed that neck-breaking smile at him again and giggled. He could feel his cheeks flush.
" No trouble at all miss. " Bartleby tried his best to maintain eye contact. Turning away would only make his nervousness more apparent.
The young woman smiled yet again and stood upright, both hands on her hips. " So, what'll it be honey? "
Bartleby smiled politely back at her and spoke softly. " Tea, please. " The young woman stared at Bartleby for a moment, shamelessly looking him over from head to toe. " Comin' right up! " She said as she turned away and made off towards the kitchen.
Bartleby smiled to himself for a moment, taking in all that had transpired. But before he could get lost in his own thoughts, the memory of his assignment flashed in his mind. Bartleby's smile faded, and a stern look came over his face. He reached into his jacket pocket and removed the raven's feather, placing it on the center of the table. He folded his hands in his lap and waited. It wouldn't be long now.