In the Merchant Plaza (Kinley)

The Dehlosian market came to life by daylight, but it was under the night sky when it dazzled like stars. When the guards posted outside of the square and stopped policing wares, the black market dealings frolicked out in the open. Tobias spent that time looking for more eclectic and outlandish poisons, weapons that he wouldn't find any place else in the world. Raiaeran Smiths peddled their mithril wares here, and Salvic hedge witches placed laboriously scribbled hexes on parchment to swindle the highest bidders. Somewhere nearby, the fires of a Dwarven forge burned with the telltale incense that they used in their wares, the distinct temper that made their weapons so reliable and deadly. He strayed close to the flame because the warmth took the edge off of a night in Dehlos, the chill off the gulf nearby enough to settle into one's bones.

"Tobias!" the blade merchant, Valgo waved him down. "I've got something I think you'll like!"

Beyond the familiar scents and tastes of the market district, the shops that dealt in strange and ornate weaponry lay claim to Tobias' heart. "What have you got for me, Valgo?" he asked, smiling slightly. His gilded gaze swept across the table. There was nothing new, no items that had not been there the night before. Curiously, he looked up to the merchant, who's Cheshire grin promised mischief.

"I have... a tale," he began. Tobias' gaze lit up. Where there was a story involved, something magnificent almost always followed. "For the right price, of course," the man said, rubbing his fingers together greedily. It took no time at all for Tobias to produce a fistful of coin and scatter it on the table.

"You know all the right things to say," Stalt conceded. "Now, tell me something good, or I'll have your fingers for trying to swindle my coin. The guards might be looking away, but the law is very clear cut about contracts."

"Of course, of course..."

It had been weeks, maybe even months that I had encounter a single soul. I had become a recluse, many have gossiped and shared the horror story of the skaeth that ripped through villages, leaving destruction in her wake. Yet here I stood at just the edge of Dehlosian Market. A sea of bodies pushing passed one another, swindlers calling out prices to line their pockets with the coin from another.

My head stayed tilted down, hood over my lively muddy crimson color. My bright gaze never left the cobble stoned streets as I held the strap of my violin tightly to my shoulder. The sickly sweet and bitter smell of burning incense assaulted my nose as I passed a tent.

“Potion ma’am? Stress relief? Love perhaps?” Called out a large, round woman. She moved her body in front of me causing my footing to stumble.

“Not interested...” I mumbled, moving around her to avoid any type of physical contact.

I could feel the anxiety tighten in my chest, weighing my breastbone down. I sucked in a ragged breath, the warmth of so many bodies close to one another giving me claustrophobia. In two, three... Out two, three... I couched myself.

What seemed like ions of suffocation, finally I broke through wall of people to the small town like square. Against the wall of a building I carefully and cautiously laid my instrument case on the stone ground. Unzipping the hard protective case to reveal my single prized possession. A cherry wood violin was nestled safely. McKinley beautifully etched into it.

Pulling back my hood I rested the violin on my shoulder, placing my chin on the chin rest but not before pulling out the shiny, rosined bow.

I knew the moment I struck a note with my instrument that attention would be brought to me and if the horrors of what I had done at the last two towns had made it here it would be obvious to tell. Even as I drew my bow down the neck of the violin, testing the tuning and sound of its vibrato, my heart raced wildly in my chest. With few funds and not a place to lay my head at night my case sat out to catch any coin given for my talents or offerings for the girl that caused chaos and destructions, but no one would be able to tell my story as well as myself could.

A blade danced between his fingers as Stalt listened idly to tales woven like tapestries. Gold, silver, linen, arcane powers, mystic sigils, and all manner of oddities littered the words that cascaded from the man's maw; but words were wind. His gilded gaze rippled with telltale boredom as he bit back a yawn. "You're not impressing me, Valgo," he drawled.

"Yes of course," the man stammered. His feeble attempt to hop from the back foot was cut short when Tobias stepped forward and seized Valgo's collar. "I promise, I was just about to get to the point."

Tobias ran the tip of his blade across the swindler's throat softly. "Aye, you're right about that," he crooned. "Now, where were we...?"

"The Sultan's treasure," Valgo wheezed. Spittle rained across Tobias' face, but his expression remained neutral. "I heard a rumor about a vault beneath the city."

"A wives tale," Tobias pressed the blade tighter, and crimson welled up beneath it. "What Dehlosian hasn't heard it?"

"It was found, Stalt," the man spoke more quickly, "a jeweled door, marble inlay- like nothing in your wildest dreams, I swear it on my life."

"Your life?" Tobias asked. His tone dipped into morbid amusement.

The merchant wavered, sweat beaded on his brow. He looked round for someone, anyone to notice. Every eye was blind. When he heard the melancholic moans of violin strings, his heart skipped a beat. Tobias let his blade sink a bit.

"You're lucky I'm feeling reminiscent," the Wandering swordsman whispered. His hot breath against the man's neck sent a shiver down Valgo's spine. "I'm not much in a mood for killing. Give me back my gold and you can go."

"I swear to you, Stalt," the man protested.

Tobias twisted the man around so they were eye to eye. "I will follow the rumor," he said, "and if I find nothing, I will come for you. If you leave Dehlos, I will hunt you for sport. Are you so certain a fistful of coin is worth your life, peddler?"

"My word is my bond," the merchant rasped.

Tobias withdrew his blade. "A merchant's word is worth a sack of shit," he spat. "We both know that. But to him, his life is more precious than gold. If you're so willing to stake your life against it, I can't help but be interested."

"Would you be willing to go 50/50 on any treasure?" Valgo asked, hopeful.

Tobias said nothing as he turned and moved toward the fiddler. When he got close enough, he tossed a coin into the case near her feet and smiled toward her. "Your music is foreign," he said to her in the common tongue of Althanas. "Tell me, Traveler. Do you know any songs of the Spellsingers? A Raiaeran Nocturne would cut deep into my heart, and I could use a sad song tonight."

I didn't dare look up at the man that had approached me even if he had directly spoken to me. Instead easily my bow moved keys, the long and daunting notes of Raiaeran music sprung to life at my finger tips. The beautiful melody was slow and haunting, my fingers pressing themselves against the frets on the neck of my violin. Wiggling the pad of my fingers to draw out the cord. My eyes shut a moment later as I found myself wrapped entirely in the moment, the music and the lack of fear that I had felt moments before, the music spun around me, weaving breath takingly in between notes. My head moved, dipping and bobbing with the notes of the music that sprung to life at my will.

My lips parted as I found myself humming such ominous notes, low and high alike to match the music from the violin. My fingers dancing easily from one wired string to the next. I played as if I was delivering the performance of my life time. Each cord that was struck, plucked or ran across by my bow tore deeper into the essence of my being. It took me a moment to realize that my hood had fallen, my muddy red locks fell around my face and shoulders. Quickly I plucked the last few chords to end the song, before setting my violin down in front of me and pulling my hood back over my head.

"Hope that satisfied you need, sir." I mumbled almost barely audible.

Daringly I looked up slightly, my bright gaze drank in the manly merchant looking man. My curiosity curbed as I glanced down, picking up my instrument once more and plucking a few playful chords. The ease of forming and harmonizing chords until a melody came to life at my fingertips once more. This one seemed to lack luster then the two before it but enough to be heard through the hustle and bustle of the crowded streets.