The machinations of Fate (closed to Rayleigh)

[Cards of Fate]

Vincent clung desperately to the hand railings on the port side of the S.S Fayte, trying not to spill the contents of his guts into the ocean once again. The two week voyage from Raiaera had been a long one, filled with cramped living conditions and body odor. The constant rocking of the boat had done the scholar in, the terrible food and smell of the sea weren't helping him either. "Oi Vincent" The captain called out from the wheel, "You can see the port for here!" Vincent looked up, legs quaking, to see a large town coming into view on the horizon. Wiping his mouth of any residual bile Vincent sighed. Finally his nautical nightmare was over.

After the boat had docked and fees were paid Vincent departed from the crew and left to explore the bar. Leona had made previous arrangements for his extended stay at a local inn, the Jolly Otter, but as for where that was Vincent had no idea. All he could see was crowds and crowds of people in different races. The dark elves of Alerar had skin of ashy gray, and made a majority of the people he saw. It kinda reminds me of home... he thought to himself as he made his way through the crowds. He kept a keen eye on his bag, for tucked away in it was a very important item Leona had asked him to look after.

After an hour or so of searching Vincent found his way to the Jolly Otter. The large inn stood out from the rest. Possibly the largest in the town. As he walked in a grizzled man with an eye-patch waved at him from the bar. "Welcome to the Jolly Otter!" He said smiling. He pulled out a note, examined it and then looked at Vincent. "Ye must be Vincent" he said motioning the young man to sit down. Sitting down Vincent was greeted with a plate of pork with a couple small rolls on the side. "Yer food and drink is all pre-paid, I've been told to make arrangements for anything you need." The man leaned forward looking left to right. "The Hierarchy is a friend of this establishment". Vincent looked around, the room was large and rectangular with an irregular arrangement of tables scattered about. In the middle of the room was a grand staircase that led to the second floor.

After being handed a key Vincent ascended and found his room. Entering he found a surprisingly large chamber with a "king" sized bed and a large desk. As he plopped on the bed he noticed a note sealed with red wax. He rolled over and snagged it. Prying it open he found Leona's familiar handwriting. You need to figure out whatever you can about the relic by any means necessary. Rolling over he sat at his desk and began to write.

To whom it may concern,
I am a man of many talents, but machinery is not my forte. I have found in my possession a peculiar machine that I need investigated. Any and all interested parties will need to meet me at the Jolly Otter and ask the bartender for a Vincent. The machine is particularly old, don't come unless you're sure you can help me.

Best Regards, The Hierophant.

[Rayleigh]

A lone figure stood at the edge of the crowd. Around her, individuals of all races flowed, each with a unique destination in mind. Though there were occasional collisions and soft 'excuse me's,' the people seemed oblivious to their surroundings as they rushed one way or another. There was a sense of hurry here, but it was not reflected in the actions of the single woman. She stood at the mouth of a small alley, her back resting against the building, her arms crossed loosely across her breasts. Green pools scanned the crowd, but they lacked the urgency of a person trying to locate another. Instead, they flickered with the curiosity and excitement of a child in a candy shop.

Rayleigh had spent the past week in the city, yet the thrill she experienced had not waned in the slightest. She still found great joy in simply watching the crowd, taking note of the various dialects that rose above the din. There were individuals from far away lands, and races she did not even know existed. The woman had been perfectly content to simply observe the passerbys, occasionally engaging them in conversation when she spotted some sort of machine on their persons. Often it was simply an appliance or tool tucked under their arm, but she had been fortunate enough to catch a few cyborgs as well. And when the strangers were willing to take a brief moment to chat with her, she collected as much information as she possibly could. To the twenty-two year old, it was these rare interactions that were worth the long trek from her hometown.

However, the big city held other secrets that Rayleigh had not anticipated. The high price of room and board had caught her off-guard, and she was nearly through the small amount of gold she had carried with her. When she had mentioned her predicament to a kind-looking elderly man, he had directed her to a nearby announcement board. The grey-haired stranger had even offered to escort her, and after she graciously accepted, the pair moved down the street. He spoke as he hobbled along, much of his weight teetered atop a worn wooden cane.

"If I recall correctly," he began, his voice soft and strained as he thought back, "there was an announcement put up within the last couple of days. Had something to do with the Jolly Otter." The brunette's eyes widened. That was one of the largest inns in the city. She had passed it a number of times, always pausing to marvel at the craftsmanship that went into constructing such a massive building. It put the pitiful shack she had been holed up in to shame, and if the job had anything to do with the Jolly Otter, she knew it would be worth investigating.

"Here we are." They slowed to a halt before a large cork-board. A number of handwritten notes were pegged there, fluttered in the gentle breeze that swept up the street. The fragile man reached up slowly, and tore a note from its place in the center of the board. His blue eyes narrowed in their leathery sockets as he gave the advertisement a once-over himself. "Yes, that's right. It was about a machine."

Perhaps too eagerly, Rayleigh plucked the paper from the man's grasp. Pale pink lips curled into a broad smile as she read the ad for herself. Then, she clapped the stranger gently on his bony shoulder. "Old man," she began, her tone one of genuine admiration, "you've done good."

It took only a few minutes to travel to the Jolly Otter, but this time, the lone woman did not stop at the entrance. Instead, she shoved the heavy wooden door open, and slipped inside. It took only a moment for her eyes to adjust to the slightly dimmer lighting, but as soon as it did, Rayleigh let slip an excited gasp. A more well-traveled woman might have found the inn lacking. There were no extra decorations of any sort, and barring the grand staircase in the middle of the room, the inn was nothing extravagant. But Rayleigh was not that woman, and she thought that the inn was the most beautiful place she had ever set foot in.

As the brown-eyed girl approached the bar, the bartender eyed her warily. A heavy leather sack was draped over her right shoulder, and with each step she took, she made an obnoxious clanking noise. It seemed especially loud in this place, which was quiet due to the mid-morning hour. "Hallo there," Rayleigh drawled, crawling atop one of the bar stools. "I am looking for Vincent."

[Cards of Fate]

The bar tender eyed the young woman for a moment, sizing her up. Without much of a word he motioned over to a large table over by the staircase where a single young man sat surrounded by a fort of books. "He's over there." He added sighing. "But please keep in mind that he's turned away about twenty people already, and that's just today's crowd. Don't bother trying to draw a knife on him or I'll beat you half to death like the last guy." He said rather weary. At first the young man had seemed to be a boon for business, after all the Hierarchy was paying a fortune for him to be looked after. However, Vincent had been a troublesome lad.

On his first day fielding would be informants the bartender had to pry two very angry blacksmiths off of Vincent after he had insulted their lack of formal knowledge. Then he had been set upon by a few minor thieves looking to make a bit of minor coin. Then the books began to come in. The young man had taken to spending a great deal of coin on various tomes and novels from nearby towns. After all the youth hailed from Raiaera, many of the scientific advances of Alerar had not made it over to the old elven kingdom.

Soon the young man's books had filled his room, and they began to spill out to his table. The scholar was rather lacking in the muscle to move these tomes around with ease, so the bartender often found himself helping the young man in exchange for stories. Vincent was absolutely awful at stories, but he could teach. So instead when he wasn't busy with an informant the young man found himself teaching whoever the bartender could find. It had begin simply with the mans employees. If they couldn't read he taught them their letters and sounds. If they couldn't do arithmetic he walked them through it. Having only been at it a few days the scholar had managed to get the barmaids hooked on reading romance novels, and several of the nearby homeless children were suddenly getting apprenticeships with merchant companies for their skilled math.

As Rayleigh approached the table she noticed that the young man was in the middle of reading a small book, holding it open with one hand, and writing with the other. His blonde hair was neatly brushed out of his face, and his blue eyes with sharply focused on the text in front of him. His attire was strange to say the least. He wore a pair or dyed black cotton trousers, and a white shirt. Over it he wore a robe of all things, as if he were some sort of wizard from a fairy tale, or a scholar from a prestigious university. It was a simple black silk with a crimson VC embroidered over the heart whilst a large crimson H was embroidered on the back. When the young woman arrived to the table Vincent simply snapped his book closed and looked up. "Ah yes, I assume you're here to inquire about the machine then?" he asked inquisitively.

[Rayleigh]

The sturdy man behind the counter warned Rayleigh against any sort of funny business. The brunette, however, simply waved him off with a flick of her wrist. "What do I look like," she barked good-naturedly, "some sort of barbarian?" With a cluck of her tongue, the small-framed woman added, "your Vincent is safe with me. But thank'ya kindly for the warning." Shoving back from the bar, the woman let herself slip fluidly from the stool to the ground below. Then, after adjusting the pack on her shoulder noisily, she strode toward the table.

It was the books that she noticed first, as they seemed to occupy most of the table's surface. Like the walls of some great fortress, they rose up around the young man seated there. Peering around the stacks, the mechanic found the blonde-haired Vincent. He was much younger than she had anticipated; for some reason, she had imagined an elderly man with twinkling blue eyes and a long beard the color of shining metal. At least his wardrobe did not disappoint. The robes were precisely what she had pictured when spotted the stack of books. Whoever surrounded himself with so much literature had to have been some great scholar, and robes such as his were only fitting.

This thought caused Rayleigh to glance down at her own appearance, which paled in comparison to this man's. Her brown mass of hair, usually falling wild about her shoulders, was pulled back with a strip of thin leather. Her outfit was as sensible as her hairstyle. Brown boots gave way to black leggings, hugging tight to the curves of the woman's small legs. A long white tunic fell mid-thigh, and was cinched tightly about her waist with a brown belt. A thin, thread-bare scarf was wrapped lazily about her neck. Rayleigh was terribly underdressed, but all thoughts of fashion were abandoned as she reached the table.

"Aye," she replied, giving the man a curt nod. Without waiting for an invitation, she dropped into the chair opposite him. Flashing the whites of her teeth, she announced, "name's Rayleigh. And you're Vincent."

[Cards of Fate]

Vincent grinned slightly as he sat up slightly taller. He set aside the book and brushed aside his notes clearing a space on the table that was otherwise cluttered with neatly written notes and maps. "You are correct, I am in fact the Vincent you are looking for" he said rather calmly. Placing both of his hands on the table in front of him Vincent smiles slightly. "A pleasure to meet you Rayleigh." After quickly scanning her appearance Vincent gathered that she didn't look like a cut-throat, and more likely than not he was safe.

"Let us begin" he starts. "I work for an archaeologist guild by the name of Ruins Undiscovered" he begins. Reaching carefully across the table he pulls out a rather large map (https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7581/15836265249_308f9191b5_o.jpg) an drags it between the two of them. "I hail from Raiaera here." He says placing a finger just outside the red forest. "About ten years ago a war tore most of the land, and many ruins now lie to be explored. It was in one of these said ruins I found this" He said reaching into his cloak with his free hand to pull out a fist sized lump covered in red silk. Setting it down he unwrapped the cloth to reveal a bizarre mesh of gears that seemed to have no rhyme of reason. In fact they floated in the air slightly defying gravity as they slowly ticked away.

The orb made no distinct sound as the gears spun, but seemed to glow slightly. "My bosses asked for me to find someone who could tell me exactly what an item like this would have been used for, and what it is capable of." He paused for a moment and placed both of his hands gingerly on the table before him. "So what can you tell me?"

[Rayleigh]

The moment the man unrolled the map, Rayleigh was gone. Her attention was pulled from her new acquaintance, and focused entirely on the parchment. Pale pink lips parted slightly, and a soft, awed breath slipped past. Never before had the mechanic's daughter seen a map quite like this one. Before her lay evidence of lands she had never heard of, and she found herself shocked by the sheer size of what was presented to her. It was not until his fingers began to dance across the map's surface that Rayleigh tuned into Vincent once more. She hoped he would tell her about the map, and she was rewarded with information about some great war. A war that, it seemed, had its roots in machinery. Wars fought with machines? The woman had heard talk of such things, and she could absolutely see it happening; a handful of gears and wires could be crafted into a weapon easily enough. But to hear the man actually speak the words sent goosebumps racing up and down her arms.

As he revealed the sample she was to examine, Rayleigh inhaled sharply. "Wow," she breathed. Leaning forward across the table, she pressed her face closer to the piece. At first, she had figured that her eyes were deceiving her. However, as she took a second look, she realized that the gears truly were hovering just slightly over the table. The brown-haired girl tilted her head slightly. And was it glowing?

Sitting back in her seat, the small woman let forth a loud whistle. It was enough to catch the attention of the bartender and the other three patrons, all who regarded her with a faint hint of annoyance. "Mighty sorry, Vincent," the woman exclaimed, "but I'm 'fraid that I've never seen nothing quite like this before." Then, a hand rose to her lips, and she began to chew absently on her thumb nail. It was a dirty habit, but the twenty two year old still found herself biting her nails whenever she felt nervous. She studied the mechanism in silence for a moment. In a booming voice, she finally announced that she would give it a look anyway. Both hands reached for one of the floating gears, and her fingers closed around it delicately.

The woman lurched forward, as if struck in the stomach by an invisible fist. Green eyes began to move rapidly back and forth in their sockets, and her jaw clenched tightly. Those were the things that Vincent, and the others in the inn, would be able to observe.

The things that transpired in her mind were much more dramatic. Her surroundings grew hazy, with the tables, chairs, walls, and even Vincent growing slightly out of focus. Another visual came to the forefront of her mind, projecting itself upon this new canvas it had created. All around Rayleigh hovered enormous gears, all clicking together in working condition. With each turn of the great wheels came sparks of blue light. The light was unlike anything the woman had ever seen before, and it seemed to glow despite a lack of light source. In her peripheral vision, she was able to catch movement of some shadowy figures. She was too entranced by the gears to pay too much attention to these strange entities. However, when she would reflect on this moment much later, she would recall their human-like form.

What startled the young woman the most was the silver chords. As she glanced down at her own hands, still clutching the gears, Rayleigh took notice of the pulsating, chrome-colored lines. They wrapped themselves around her arms, extending to her fingers, and eventually the machine itself. Though she could not explain it, she felt that these ribbons were a part of her. She could feel them in the pit of her stomach, and they glowed brighter as she filled her lungs. But what were they?

As quickly as it had come, the vision vanished. Rayleigh's limp body collapsed across the table, knocking over a stack of leather-bound novels that Vincent had not moved out of the way. The gears clattered from her hands and lay still for a moment. Then, slowly, they returned to their natural state. It would take longer for the small female to recover. Her face twisted into an expression of excruciating pain, and her hands moved to her temples. "Gods," she sputtered. "What happened?"

[Cards of Fate]

Vincent had been slightly surprised to see the woman so awestruck by a map. It was quite an ordinary map, at least the scholar seemed to think so. She seemed so astounded, and it reminded Vincent slightly of the wonder in which he had approached his original studies. She seemed so absorbed in her own examination of the map it seemed that she hadn't heard a word he had spoken. When he pulled out his sample she seemed surprised. Her whistle pierced his ear drum much to his annoyance, but at first he thought it was a good sign.

"Mighty sorry..." Vincent tuned out and sighed, calculating how to politely send her away before she reached out and grabbed the gears in a very unorthodox manner. "Uh..." Vincent began before the woman bent over. Suddenly panic set in. Was she having a seizure? The very thought panicked him. He had a vague idea about how to handle the situation, but no real life experience. As she lurched over and her eyes began to move rapidly.

Shit what do I do? He thought as he quickly rose to his feet. A pile of tomes were the first causality as the young woman knocked them from the table. Quickly pulling the map away from the chaos Vincent began to clear the table signalling for the bartender to come and assist him. When Rayleigh finally collapsed to the table Vincent moved the relic to safety and left his now crumbled fort of tomes to approach the young woman. When she awoke and muttered something along the ways of "what happened" Vincent had gingerly grasped her chin and pulled her face towards his so he could peer into her eyes. "You had an episode of sorts" he responded in a veneer of calm. "Your pupils don't seem dilated, no popped blood vessels." he muttered as he went about scanning her face.

One hand went to her throat where two fingers rested on her jugular, and one hand on her temple. "Clammy skin, quickened pulse." he added. "Alright I need to check if you're suffering any brain damage. Can you tell me your name, your age, and why you're here with me?" he asked. Inside he was panicking Oh shit I'm not trained for this in any way! Am I doing this right? Am I remembering my boy scout training? These thoughts raced through his mind. Suddenly he realized his face was probably way to close to Rayleigh's and he tried to back away without seeming awkward with slight success. "What exactly did happen?" he asked.

[Rayleigh]

It felt as if her head were splitting into two. The searing pain, and the pounding throb that accompanied it, were unbearable. Rayleigh emitted an ugly groan. She was vaguely aware of hands touching and prodding at her person, but she had a difficult time focusing in on the sensation. Instead, she spent her energy willing her head to stop hurting. Fingers moved across the wooden table's surface. As they found the edge, they gripped it tightly, her knuckles losing their color. Rayleigh's lips curled into an 'O' shape, sucking in as much air as she could muster. Though the inn's warm, ale-flavored air filled her lungs, it did little to clear her head or ease the pain. There was a dampness to her entire being, and her skin crawled as she reflected on it. Everything felt wrong. She felt wrong.

Finally, the pain began to subside. Impossibly severe pain gave way to a dull thud. Her green eyes grew sharper as the room came into focus once more. A few beads of sweat clung to her brow, but she paid that no mind as she became aware of fingers on her throat. The young scholar's face was exceptionally close to hers. In his eyes, she found concern and panic, and his lips moved quickly. She concentrated on the sounds he was making just in time to hear his questions.

"Rayleigh Aston," the woman croaked. "I'm here for a job. An' a lady never tells her age." Despite the humor that managed to creep back into her words, she still appeared very tired. The frown on her lips suggested she was also incredibly uneasy about the whole situation. When Vincent pulled away from her, and asked her what happened, that worry became more apparent. Lines emerged on her face where they had not been before, crows feet like those her father once wore adorning each eye.

"I'm not rightly sure," she confessed, a single hand rising to her head. Her pointer and middle fingers found her temple, and they began to rub small circles into her skin. "Can't say I've had something like that happen before." Her expression twisted in thought. "It was sort of a vision, I s'pose. Big gears with blue sparks. But I've never had visions before now."

[Cards of Fate]

Vincent smiled uneasily at her humor. The large bartender who had approached turned to Rayleigh. "Would you like something to eat? Drink? he asked glancing to Vincent who nodded in silent agreement to put the costs on his tab. Vincent kept a very keen eye on his guest. Worry seemed to streak across her face, crows feet adorning her eyes. Once she had admitted she wasn't quite sure the worry left from his face, and instead another expression took over, one he could't quite place. Perhaps it was wonder.

Here he was with an ancient set of floating gears with no clear fabrication method, origin, or use, and this woman had been presented some form of seizure upon touching it. She had begun rubbing her temple when she announced her vision. Vincent's whole face lit up.

"A vision you say?" he said quickly taking a seat next to her. His hands quickly shot to an empty notebook and pen and ink well. He quickly jotted down her brief description of her vision. "Sparks?" He asked completely absorbed in scrawling down theories. "Were they more magical looking in nature? Or would you say it looked more like lightning from a storm?" he paused. "Did you say big gears?" he inquired turning to catch her gaze. "How big?"

The young man realized he was bombarding the young woman with questions right after she had suffered a rather traumatic vision. Clearing his throat he regained his composure. "Well I do think you now qualify the criteria I was looking for..." he said rather carefully. "If you do not have other obligations I can make arrangements for you to stay here while we discuss your vision. After that is done we can discuss a proper method of paying you for this information." he finished turning to his book and looking over his notes. Satisfied he closed his book, "Barkeep the usual for me." He called out.

[Rayleigh]

The scholar's mood changed entirely, and he seamlessly transitioned into a hurried interrogation. Still slightly groggy from experiencing the vision, and unable to keep up with Vincent's insistent questioning, she remained silent. Emerald orbs rest on the man, lips drawn in a tight line as she fought to make sense of what he asked her. Something about her vision had ignited a passion buried deep inside her new acquaintance, and he seemed desperate to know more. She could not fault him for showing such interest; she, too, sought an explanation for what she had just experienced. But his behavior was overzealous, and it was beginning to make her anxious.

When she finally spoke, it was to the barkeep, and not the young intellectual. "Can I have some water?" The man, who had just taken Vincent's order, studied her for a moment. Though he said nothing, Rayleigh felt herself being sized up. Undoubtedly, her episode had disrupted the natural order of things in the Jolly Otter. But the woman did not wish to be gawked at, especially in her current, sorry state. She did not turn back to Vincent until the barkeep tore his gaze from her, and retreated into another room.

"Alright," she began slowly, fingers continuing to knead her temple. "They weren't shiny. The sparks, I mean. Not glittery. So I guess like lightening?" Her words were hesitant, as she struggled not only to remember what she had seen, but also translate the images into the appropriate language. "The gears were big. The size of the walls." With her free hand, she motioned weakly to their surroundings. "I was covered in silver chords, and surrounded by the gears. It was a bit like I was inside them. Like I was one of them." Rayleigh winced, realizing how foolish she sounded. But the man had asked, and she owed him the truth. Well, perhaps not the whole truth. Rayleigh purposely neglected to mention the shadowy figures she had noticed. Something about them made her uncomfortable, and just the thought turned her stomach. She did not wish to speak of them unless Vincent asked explicitly.

The burly man returned with her water, and after assuring Vincent that his order would be out shortly, he disappeared once more. The brown-haired woman grabbed for the glass, and downed half of the clear liquid before finally coming up for air. "I'm glad I'm what you're looking for," she admitted, resting her drink on the table. "I want to help. But this is all new to me. I don't know how much I can do."

[Cards of Fate]

Vincent remained silent as she described her vision in further detail, committing every detail to memory. When his food came out he began to nibble on a warm buttery roll that had been on his plate while he thought about how to go about gaining more information without being rude. This was going to be a challenge of social tact that he more or less did not believe was in his possession. "I'm glad I've found at least something out about these gears..." He said motioning a free hand to the floating machine.

"That being said," he continued after chewing on some bread and swallowing. "I have a theory or two about your vision." He stopped and paused. "The way I see it there is either something about the gears itself that made YOU in particular react to it..." he trailed off trying to collect his thoughts. "Or there is something about you that made IT react to your touch" he said carefully placing the stress in his words. He contemplated his bread, brow furrowed, "Or it could be a freak accident." he said rather bluntly. He realized the tone of his voice and frowned "I'm leaning to one of the first two." he added.

He silently ate while he thought, occasionally rifling through a some notes while he let his guest recover. "Please let me know when you're starting to feel better please." He said calmly as he reached for another notebook. "Also do think of what you want in exchange for your help, you've given me something to go on in an otherwise impossible pursuit of knowledge..."

[Rayleigh]

The lie slipped with surprising ease from her lips. "I'm fine," Rayleigh assured the man who sat opposite her at the table. Of course, the young mechanic was not fine. The dull throbbing in her head and pounding in her ears made it incredibly difficult to focus on the fast-talking intellectual. Her body was weak, and as she slumped against the sturdy back of the wooden chair, she became aware of every exhausted muscle. But what truly upset her the most was the whole experience itself. Never before had a vision like this come over her. Furthermore, there was no logical explanation for what she had seen, or why she had seen it at all. Those gears were entirely unfamiliar to her, a seemingly random creation of her mind. Those shadowy figures did not resemble anyone she had seen either.

And why had this vision come to her at all? This was the work of magic, and nothing of that kind pulsed through the woman's veins. "People like us don't need no magic," her father had told her repeatedly before his passing. His gruff voice drifted back to her from a distant memory. "We got tools, Ray. We got our own two hands. Tools, an' hands who know how to use 'em, are better than any fuckin' magic."

No, Rayleigh was not fine. Her entire being was rattled by what she had seen. The vision, as innocent as it was, would continue to haunt her for a very long time. But fierce pride kept the woman from admitting this to her employer. Besides, he did not seem all that interested in her well-being. The way in which he continued to flip through his notes suggested his main concern was extracting as much information as possible out of her.

"Any of those are possible," she commented, finally addressing his theories. "Like I told you, I'm in the dark myself." Gaze shifted back to the pair's surroundings. The patrons at the table across the room had up and left, but she had hardly noticed. Now, presented with a still picture to focus in on, Rayleigh did her best to project what she had seen once more. Though she was able to collect a few fleeting memories of the gears, the vision was gone; she could not recreate what she had experienced.

Heaving a sigh, the brunette shook her head. "I just don't know. Thank'ya for trying to help though. I sure do appreciate it. Just wish I could do more." Silence fell between them, Vincent shifting through his notes, Rayleigh staring off over his shoulder. Finally, she moved her attention to the scholar once more. When he glanced up from his work, and she met his gaze, she spoke. "I just want to know more. Mostly about this world, but myself too now, I reckon." Rayleigh leaned forward, her seat creaking in protest under her weight. Elbows planted themselves on the table's surface, and her hands clasped beneath her chin. To an outsider, it looked a bit like Rayleigh was in prayer.

"Another job," she said plainly. "That's all I want. Another job, and the gold to get there. Is that possible?"

[Cards of Fate]

Vincent was caught off guard by the woman's request. "Another job?" he replied pausing for a moment. He was prepared to give gold and boons, but a job was something else in it's entirety. He sat for a moment pondering the thought as he rubbed his chin. "There is a cavern..." he muttered absentmindedly. "About three weeks ride from here." he finished a little more sure of himself. "That is where this artifact was dug up, by some dark elves looking for remnants of the War." he said reaching for a blank notebook and absentmindedly transcribing some notes down in it. "I guess I could have you go there and help out with what you can, possibly try to trigger more visions and such. You'd be pretty helpful..." his hands pen was blazing across the page as he spoke. "It'd be interesting..." he trailed off focusing more on what he was writing.

"I also have this for you, when it's done." he said motioning towards the notebook he was writing in. "If you want to know more it will have some basic information about the surrounding countries, their cultures and climates and such. If you're going to stay under the employ of my associates you might find it incredibly useful." he pauses for a moment to gather a thought together. "In the back I'll leave instructions on how to contact me from wherever you might find yourself, if you're ever looking for a job or information I will assist you."

He grew silent once more as he focused on his writing. Words flew from his quill, but his mouth remained shut. He wanted to say more, but he couldn't find the words. In fact he was quite terrified. This whole ordeal had put him on the spot and out of his comfort zone. He feared he may have left a negative opinion in the woman's eyes but he wasn't sure.

[Rayleigh]

"More artifacts like this one?" the mechanic mused aloud. Without pausing to ask for permission, a single hand reached for the other end of the table, where Vincent had moved the gears during her episode. Fingers closed around the piece, and because it was once again cloaked in crimson silk, there was no hesitation as she drew it closer. The blonde man continued to speak, but a brief upward glance revealed that he was also still focused on the notes that he feverishly scrawled across the paper. Rayleigh listened intently as the man described her next job, but her gaze remained on her lap, where the ancient artifact lay. Fingertips gently traced the ridges through the soft fabric as she turned his words over in her mind.

The thought of using technology as a weapon was one that both terrified and fascinated her. Though she recognized that it was a naive notion to cling to, she had spent her life watching machines help mankind. The idea that they could bring widespread chaos and death was a bit difficult to swallow. Still, and though she would never admit this, she longed to know how such atrocities were possible. What machines could be used to rob another of his or her life force? Who could wield such power? And, perhaps a better question, who should?

Questions such as these compelled her to locate the fabric's edge. Slowly, she thumbed it aside, revealing the gears beneath it. They did not hover as they had when she was first exposed to them; it seemed that whatever magic had existed within the metal had taken its leave. But this was not enough to keep Rayleigh from drawing in a deep breath, and pressing her finger to the artifact once more. The gear's surface felt unusually cold beneath her touch, but that was the only thing that she noticed. There was no headache, no nausea, and no visions. An uncomfortable blend of disappointment and relief washed over her, and when she looked up toward Vincent once more, her face was bereft of color.

"Thank'ya." She managed a small smile. "For the job, and the book." In one fluid movement, the short woman placed the artifact on the table, pushed her chair back, and stood. As she straightened, the room spun slightly. Whether it was simple vertigo, or lingering effects of the vision, Rayleigh could not be sure. But she downed the last of her water, and focused on a nearby painting of a sailing ship until her surroundings settled.

"I'll go get my things," she told the intellectual without looking at him. The truth was, her room at the run-down Fox Hole Inn was completely empty. All of her belongings, including her two changes of clothing, were nestled among the tools in her leather sack. She merely needed an excuse to excuse herself from the suddenly stuffy Jolly Otter. With a backward wave toward Vincent, and a curt nod to the barkeep, Rayleigh retired into the crisp, late-afternoon air.

Night ambushed Rayleigh as she roamed the streets. Her mind raced, and as she worked to make sense of her new-found ability, she lost all track of time. As a result, it was nearing midnight when she crept back into the large inn. The table where the pair had sat stood unoccupied, though a few books still lay strewn across its surface. Vincent was nowhere to be seen. The barkeep, however, emerged from the back to direct her to her bedroom. As she followed him lazily up the stairs, she found herself wondering if the muscular man ever slept.

Without bothering to undress, the girl collapsed onto the bed. Arms closed about one of the soft pillows, and as she cupped it beneath her head, she snuggled deeper into the soft mattress. This bed was comfortable, and like the ancient gears she had held hours before, Rayleigh was completely drained. But sleep did not come easily to her, and when she finally drifted off, her slumber was restless. The girl's dreams were haunted by long, silver chords. They wrapped themselves about her body, and squeezed her until she could no longer draw air into her lungs. A short distance off, figures cloaked in shadow observed silently.

[Cards of Fate]

Sleep was rarely a luxury Vincent allowed himself to partake in. Micheal, the barman, had frowned on the scholars sleep schedule at first. Vince more than once caught the man glancing uneasily at him when he was sitting at his usual table at night, so he began to take his studies up into his room to put the mans mind at rest. The scholars room when he first arrived had been a beautiful suite fit for a minor noble to stay at. Now it was strewn with books piled to the ceiling, forming a wall around the bed in the center as if to protect the young man from any harm that might befall him. Although the young man also felt uneasy at the thought of being crushed to death by a book avalanche. He crawled into his soft nest of blankets with a book and began to read over his notes thinking the day over in his head. He was finding that this world was changing him in ways that he couldn't have anticipated. Back on earth he couldn't even get into college, yet here he was a scholar of this world. The thought brought a slight smirk to his face. If only his mother could see him now.

The thought wiped the grin off of his face. Mother... the word brought a foul taste to his mouth as he thought about her. His father had only been dead for a couple of years and she as already talking about remarrying this chad fellow who she had just met. The thought made him sick, how could she betray his father like...he banished the line of thought from his brain as he sat up and growled. The mood was ruined and he just couldn't get back into his notes. He haphazardly tossed his book aside and sat there for a moment. I never want to go back... the thought surprised him but he could agree. His work in this world had purpose and meaning, and he had people who cared about him. He sat for a moment reflecting on things before he reached into his pocket pulling out an ivory twenty sided dice. "Sleep check" he muttered jokingly flicking it at a wall. It bounced off and landed and the number twenty seared through his mind. "Huh...would you look at..." He was out cold before hi finished his sentence.

...

He awoke to a knock on his door "Vincent are you ok" he heard Harold call out from behind the door. The young man groaned and sat up. "I'm fine Harold, what time is it?" he asked rubbing his temples. "It's late afternoon" Harold replied with an audible sigh of relief. "Fuck" Vincent spat as he crawled out of bed "Its been three days since you last came down" the bartender continued. "FUCK" Vincent spat leaping out of bed and scrambling through his belongings for clean clothes. Once he was dressed and ready his stomach roared at him for food. "Your usual?" Harold asked through the door who had apparently heard him. "Yes please but double the portions" Vincent asked as he fiddles with the sash in his robe. Unsure of if the bartender was still there Vincent cautiously opened the door finding the hallway empty. He gracefully descended the stairs to his fort of books and sat down. His stomach was knawing on itself and Vincent could feel the dehydration clouding his thoughts. Right when it seemed he couldn't bear it anymore Harold came to his rescue with a plate of food and a tall tankard of water. "Thank you Harold!" Vincent replied before setting in upon his food like a ravenous beast.

[Rayleigh]

Rayleigh was waiting for him. She sat alone at a table in the nearly deserted Jolly Otter, watching the only two remaining occupants snuggle up in a corner booth. The pair had entered the inn just before midnight, as the brunette was retiring for the night. When she had returned the following morning, they had been in the same spot. Did they end up getting a room? the woman found herself wondering. Probably not. More likely, they had been so enchanted by each other that all thoughts of sleep had left them. Ray, who enjoyed her full seven hours, clucked her tongue softly and shook her head; she doubted that she would ever choose socializing over sleep.

A series of thuds drew her attention back to the staircase, and she turned just in time to watch Vincent descend. He appeared to hardly notice her as he hurried back to his usual table, dropped into his chair, and stared off into the distance as he waited for his meal. The mechanic regarded him dryly, and her frown only deepened as he began devouring his food. Of course, she was no picture of sophistication either, but she had seen the neighbor's dogs eat more gracefully. As he was occupied by his food, the lovebirds were busy making faces at one another, and the barkeep had returned to the kitchen, Ray did not bother to hide her surprise and slight disgust.

Once Vincent had cleared his plate, drained his glass, and finally come up for air, the girl made her move. "Mornin', sunshine," she called to him from across the inn, giving him a one-handed wave. Once she was sure she had his attention, she made her way toward him. He had slept for three straight days, a feat even Ray could not claim to have accomplished. Unfortunately, in that time, she had been left completely directionless. The woman was restless, and eager to move on to her next adventure. Her new-found abilities made it even more difficult to remain in one place, but she knew she would have to wait on the scholar. He had promised her a book filled with new information, the directions to reach her next job, and the means to get there. Until she had those things in hand, Aston had admitted, she was stuck. Still, his desire to sleep instead of preparing for her departure as he had promised put her in a foul mood. A few days without purpose, and with a lot of sleep, had given the mechanic some of her spunk back.

"You know," began the brunette, dropping into the chair opposite Vincent, "it has been a real drag waitin' for you to wake up. Hasn't been much to do. Not like I could really go anywhere, since you could come around at any moment." With one hand, she motioned toward the barkeep, who had returned to his post. "And to top it off, I had to pay for my own food. Harold here wouldn't even put it on your tab." The big man merely shrugged, before returning to the tankard he was drying. Rayleigh sighed, shook her head, then asked, "did you make any progress on that book of yours?"

[Cards of Fate]

Vincent gulped as Ray walked over to him, he couldn't help notice how pretty she could be if she wasn't also so menacing. "Oh my..." he muttered to himself as he ran a hurried hand through his hair. Suddenly he felt like the contents of his stomach were going to make a hasty reappearance all over his table. "I am so sorry, please, it was never my intention to sleep so long I swear..." the words left his lips a nervous jumble and Harold began to chuckle. "Sometimes in my studies I do not sleep for days on end and when I retired to my room I was going to get straight to work on making your notes for you but then I fell asleep for the first time in..." Vincent paused his worried ranting to count on his fingers for a moment "Eight days?" he said frowning.

"Either way," he said pausing, "The predicament I left you in is inexcusable, I will have your costs billed at my expense and I'll get straight to work on that book for you post haste." he scrambled nervously for a blank notebook and drew a pen and quill. "Where should I start on the notes for you?" His eyes were wide with a mixed jumble of panic and fear as he glanced up at her. He fucking blew it big time and he was eager to try to redeem himself in her eyes. Meanwhile he was hand sketching rough maps of each country off the top of his head, they were by far no work of a cartographer but excellent quality coming from the top of a scholars head.

[Rayleigh]

The scholar was clearly flustered. His words were hurried, and his actions were sharp and choppy. Even his eyes revealed the panic that he was experiencing. As she observed him in relative silence from the opposite side of the table, the young woman found herself growing sympathetic. Though he had made a mistake, and she was certainly not pleased by his prolonged slumber, he appeared genuinely embarrassed by the whole ordeal.

Finally, Ray decided that accepting his apology may be the only way to calm the frantic blonde. With a small nod in his direction, she put voice to her thoughts. "S'fine," she assured him with a wave of her hand. "So long as you're picking up that tab, I'll forgive ya." Her words were direct, but the sarcastic edge on them had lessened significantly. Slightly more aware of the intellectual's feelings than she had been before, she hoped that he might stop behaving so strangely.

Shifting a bit, the brunette scooted forward onto the edge of her chair. Folding her arms over the table, she leaned closer to the blonde-haired man. "I will take anything that you can give me," came her honest answer. Green eyes settled on the man's work, gaze tracing every line that he made. As the man breathed life into the maps, she found herself impressed both by his skill, and by the lands she had never known existed. The experience pulled a soft gasp of admiration from her, and she squinted to appreciate the finer details.

"Have you visited all of these places?" Ray breathed. Harold, the barkeep, placed a cup of water beside Rayleigh on the table; over the past three days, he had learned that it was the poor woman's beverage of choice. Though she muttered a distracted thank you as the tall man moved on, she did not spare him a glance. Instead, she remained fixated on Vincent's work, her mind racing to absorb as much knowledge as possible. "I can't imagine traveling that much. Must be incredible."

[Cards of Fate]

Vincent paused at the woman's remarks of forgiveness, and took a deep breath. Calm down Vince... Setting the pen down he calmed himself down and addressed her question. glancing at the notebook her turned back to the first map he had drawn, Raiaera.

"I live in the country of Raiaera." he began gesturing to the map. "Or that's at least where my main place of residence is." he peered at the map. "You see Raiaera used to be the home of a very powerful kingdom that thrived on magic unlike any in this current era. Something happened, some sort of conflict it seems, and the power they had been using simply vanished." He said looking up to catch her eyes enthralled with his map.

"Where in Raiaera did you live?" she inquired. Vincent paused and formulated his response. "Here." he said motioning to an area marked Linguarme. "I find refuge in one of the most dangerous forests in the land. Long ago a witch cursed it and everything it it has evolved to kill or be killed. My home is a re-purposed wizards lair it seems, and I live with several of my guild members who find safety underground."

"Linguarme?" Rayleigh asked confused. "It's high elven for The Red Forest." Vincent replied. "Why don't you live in a town?" she asked, her eyes alight with curiosity. "Well to be fair most of the big towns are...gone. A couple years ago there was a undead horde that plagued the land. You would have thought the person behind it had an endless horder of the undead with the destruction he managed to sow. Now most big towns are more or less rubble."

This..." Vincent said turning the page. "Is Fallien..." The two spent the rest of the day, Vincent teaching Ray about the lands he was mapping for her, the tales he had heard and read. He even told her about some of his other "Coworkers" like his boss Leona and his best friend Ioder and all of the "excavations" he had done. In short he was recanting his tales of adventure by taking out all of the danger and killing and replacing them with archaeological discoveries. As they grew hungry Vincent would order food and drink for them, and by the end of the day the Hierophant had filled the entire notebook with notes for his acquaintance.

"You really mean to tell me you an Ioder had a run in with bandits who stole one of your discoveries? And the help you had hired lit their whole camp on fire?" she laughed at the notion. "Not to be room Vincent but you look like you'd feint at the sight of blood! I can't imagine what you'd do when stuck in a fire!"

Vincent laughed with her, "It was not very becoming of me, I spent the whole time trying to run around and put out the flames while the other two dealt with this fat old bandit swinging a claymore around like it was a twig..."

[Rayleigh]

Rayleigh tumbled back in her chair, melodic laughter that bubbled from deep within her stomach carrying across the entire Jolly Otter; even the couple in the corner broke off their kiss just long enough to glance her way. The visual left her gasping for breath, mostly because of how ridiculous it was, but also due to the fact she simply could not picture the uppity intellectual in any sort of dangerous situation. Even when her laughter finally died away, and she finally brought her gaze back up to his, she fell victim to another fit of giggles.

"Gods," the young woman drawled, wiping at the tear that had hung precariously from the corner of her eye. "Sorry, Vincent, but that's hilarious." Still grinning, she shook her head. "Fire all around, and someone hacking at you with a big sword?" Ray snorted. "Sounds like something out of some old comedy skit."

When she spoke again, some of the humor had left her voice. Her laughter lines softened, as did her tone. "I gotta tell you, I wish I'd been there. Fighting bandits, finding buried treasure," the mechanic's voice trailed as a far-off expression shadowed her features. "Must be something."

Finally, the small woman shook her head and offered the blonde a shrug. "Guess you think I'm pretty boring then. Haven't done anything like you've been talking about." The scholar at the other end of the table studied her without speaking, and when she realized he was anticipating her next words, she added, "hell, I've never even left Alerar. My biggest adventures were trips to Ettermire with my old man."

Again, silence hung between the pair. Aston, who wondered if she had over-shared, began to chew at her thumb nail. "Guess I'm just a bit envious, that's all," she told him, growing uncomfortable beneath his gaze.

[Cards of Fate]

Vincent paused for a moment as he watched her pour part of her heart out as he chewed on a thought. She seemed like she was at a crossroad in her life, on the fence about a very important decision. All she needed was a simple push. "Well if a simple scholar like me can survive these sorts of adventures I'm sure you could with ease." he replied taking a sip of his water. He had not intended to find one of Leona's cards on this mission, but he felt like there was even a chance that this woman sitting in front of him would wind up in the Hierarchy he had to make his move.

"Tell you what." He said turning to the last page of an already filled notebook. "I'm going to leave instructions on how to contact my boss." He said as he scrawled down a rather elaborate set of instructions. "If you ever do want to give the whole going on adventures thing a shot, it's here for you." he said closing the book and sliding it her way with a smile.

It was odd that he was able to speak so easily to her given that perhaps hours ago he had been an utter wreck. Had he just made a friend? The woman looked down at the thick tome of knowledge before her slightly overwhelmed. He had managed to fill an entire book with his knowledge in one sitting whilst telling stories of his adventures. As she looked up she noticed the piles of identical tomes all around them. This young man who couldn't be any older than her had filled all of these books with his knowledge from his studies and adventures. Would she learn as much from such a journey? Neither of them could know for sure.

They gazed at each other silently before Vincent broke the silence. "I'm planning leaving for Raiaera tomorrow." he confessed as he pulled out a sheet of paper and scrawled down some more instructions. "I am a man of my word. Take this letter to Louise, she's a carriage driver. She'll take you off to your next job. After that..." he paused for a moment. "Please do contact my boss, at least so that we can meet up and have drinks while sharing stories..." he said looking rather glum.

[Rayleigh]

"Oh," the young mechanic breathed as Vincent slid the notebook her way. Gingerly, Rayleigh cupped the book, lifting it from the tabletop as a child might handle a small creature. Never before had the girl wielded such immense knowledge, and a part of her feared that it was all too good to be true. Furthermore, his invitation to join his group sent her mind racing, and she reeled from the many possibilities that it allowed. Briefly, she found herself thanking the elderly stranger who had directed her toward this job. So many doors have opened for me. Think of the things I can do now.

Slowly, delicately, Ray opened the notebook to the final page. "Leona Stevvains." Green eyes traced the curves of Vincent's cursive as the unfamiliar name tumbled from her lips. The pair existed in comfortable silence for a moment longer as she read over the scholar's contact instructions. "I will be sure to reach out to her," she confirmed once she had finished. "And I will contact your Louise as well."

Aston grew uncharacteristically still, staring down at the gift that Vincent had presented her with. The gift of wisdom. He had bestowed on her a great tool, one which the untraveled mechanic did not take lightly. A few minutes passed, Ray silently sifting through the book's many pages, Vincent silently watching her do so. The couple in the corner finally took their leave, still cooing to each other in hushed tones as they brushed past; the Jolly Otter had begun to fill as morning gave way to afternoon, and the pair had decided to seek out a more private hideaway. The man in the robes, and the woman with the book, hardly noticed.

Finally, Rayleigh cradled the notebook to her chest. "Thank you, Vincent," she told him sincerely. With a crooked smile, she added, "I know things were a rocky between us for a bit there, but I really do appreciate the help. I'm not sure what I would have done if you hadn't come along, y'know?"

With the unmistakable creak of wood on wood, she pushed back from the table. As she stood, she glanced down at the blonde one final time. "We'll see each other again. And next time, I'll be the one telling the stories." She jabbed a small, slender finger toward him, emerald eyes wide and laughing. "I swear it."

[Rayleigh]

This concludes The Machinations of Fate!
(Ray's first roleplay on Althanas!)

Rayleigh's story continues here (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?28500-What-Lies-Below).
Vincent's story continues here (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?28667-The-Wheel-of-Fate-Turns-Tarot-Hierarchy-Closed-to-Ray).

There are no spoils requests.

[Tobias Stalt]

Cards:

+ There was a story. I felt like it could have been stronger, but it was defined.
+ Vince is a character who has depth. It's not exceptionally deep yet, but it's in progress.
+ Expound on the thoughts and feelings of your character. You have a problem with post length because you go bare bones. Don't be afraid to actually play off of who the character is.

- You've since moved on from this format, but be reminded: centering text is a strain on the reader. Be aware of your formatting.
- Vincent as a character has an external locus of control, given that everything he does is centered around the Tarot. I feel like the character has the potential to be more gripping than that. Start to evolve him into a self driven character with personal motives. The only way to go is up.
- Remember to do your edits before requesting judging. We went over the whole "Lindequalmë" thing. ;)

Ray:

+ I love pretty much any character who hates magic. Make sure she sticks with that consistently as you write her, though, or build her trust in it. Gotta go one way or the other, there is no middle ground here.
+ Just got this one thrown at me in the AC, so let me impart it on you. Pick one name, "Rayleigh" or "Aston" and stick with it throughout your narrative. Switching it up is confusing. (Gotta learn this one myself.)
+ For a second judged thread, you're not doing badly. Althanas can be hard on newbies, but it also teaches them a great deal. Try out the full rubric, sometime. These basic judgments can only get you so much feedback.

- Best advice Dirks has ever given me: "You can tell you came from a T1 site." A lot of the writing you do attempts to focus on specific attributes of the character's movements or features. For instance, at the beginning of a sentence. "Blue eyes wandered over green trees..." While not improper in theory, in practice, it throws another question at the reader. "Who's blue eyes? Are they disembodied?" While your subject and verb do agree, the object is not clear. A pronoun can alter an entire sentence's meaning.
- Rayleigh is a spitfire character, but she sort of transitions between feelings quickly. I suppose that doesn't count as a negative, but you should be sure to make the transition as fluid as possible. I realize short stories can move and do move quickly, but your pace is still important.
- Show, don't tell.

Cards gains 900 Gold and 100 Gold

Rayleigh gains 1000 Experience and 150 Gold. (Extra given for improvements virtue of discretion.)

Congratulations.

[Lye]

EXP & GP Added!