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 Dawn in a Merchant Town

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Lyo the Shadow Whistle
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Number of posts : 702
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Title: Lord Master, Patron Father

PostSubject: Dawn in a Merchant Town   Fri Jul 19, 2013 3:30 pm

The city was much like most others. But somehow it struck his road weary eyes as far more beautiful then normal. The simple thatched roofs stood out against the backwash of greenery, but it only added to the picture not detracted. Most of the cities homes were simple one-floor residents with walls growing mold lightly, and billowing white smoke from their chimneys. Only three structures broke from this norm. The high steeple of the local temple, its bright ivory parapet standing high into the sun light cresting over the ridge behind it. A lone Inn sitting up, away slightly from all the other residences. And the very place he was walking towards the Tavern.

He had been with out the comforts of a city for many weeks as he had walked through the woods. Sure, he bathed in the streams and lakes he came across. Nevertheless, his inner nature prohibited the use of the harsh lye so he had not seen soap in a good time. In contrast to that, fact however, he did not smell of stink and sweat for his kind almost never perspired. Which when traveling in a suede leather doublet and thick silk shirt was a bonus. On his feet he wore dust laden soft soled boots that cleaved tightly up his calves to just under his knees. However, the mythril case greaves her wore caught the eye far better then his mud-stained boots. Somehow, traversing both bog and fen had not placed any damper on their shine.

On his forearms he wore matching vambraces, from wrist to elbow they offered their sparkling protection. Yet this warrior bore no other armor. In truth he didn’t believe in wearing any more then that, for he trusted his skill with the blades he carried immensely. Those twin swords were both born on his left side. One cresting over his shoulder holding back his cape slightly, the other on the hip. From a distance, these were just any other blade. But once examined closely it was reveled both held an S shaped curve to them. His right hip held two locking leather pouches, and a strange metallic looking bullwhip that jingled with his motions.

As he drew nearer to the city, the bone hilts of the daggers in his boots came into view. Likewise the handles of the flintlock pistols on his back, though they were not fully hidden they were more difficult to see because of the black doublet, and cloak. This warrior was growing far more ‘ready for war’ looking the nearer he came. Yet with all the threats, he showed openly, his face was not to be held by any passerby’s eye. The hood of his cape was up and drawn low over his face so that even while walking into the morning’s sun he held one mystery. But his height gave away one fact that his slender size agreed to. He was young

However, that was one of the most mistaken things about him. Sure, he was small and little looking for a human. Nevertheless, this man was no more human then the braying mule he just passed. With a gentle breeze stirring his hood, it threatened at any moment to fall back and reveal the mystery of his face, but through some force of will, the hood never dropped at the order of the breeze. Though one new feature would be seen on his face now. There was a long tribal tattoo that ran from presumably his left cheek all the way down his neck to be concealed again under that deep crimson shirt.

His steps still not slowing from his trip of untold distances, and he moved into the freshly waking town with a grace not kept in the mortal realm. He moved out of the way of a group of men carrying barrels after offering a very small nod of respect. But once they passed him by he began his trudge anew. His goal was however not clear as twice his gaze shifted to the overly large hill, yet his feet continued towards the tavern. Maybe breakfast was his goal.

Once all of the laborers were past him, he raised his fingers up and tapped the edge of his hood in a pseudo salute to them as he began moving again. Weaving his way through the city with care as some shop keepers were readying for the day and others shirking till a more reasonable hour. But he had moved true to his original intention and eventually made his way to the Tavern.

The inside of the establishment was dark, most of the shutters were still closed from last night, and there was no reason for expensive candles. The opening and closing of the door rang a bell twice softly, and caused a gentle stirring from places unseen behind the bar. He took this as his chance to simply seat himself at the bar and await for the old keep to make his way out towards him. Assuming that the tender would not mind he leaned over and grabbed a glass and fairly random bottle of dark liquor. Pouring himself a glass, he grinned.

Sure enough a few moments later the keep came into view and just smiled saying “that’ll be two silvers.” And then moved over to actually see who it was at their place so early on. Yet the only motions made by the mystery man was to leave two silver coins on the bar before the shops owner. Both of which quickly vanished. But before the keeper could ask the mystery man finally broke the ever resonating silence around him with soft words.

“A plate of eggs, salted pork, and preferably an orange if any are around.” Then a smile crept onto his lips as he continued.” With a large mug of what apples were intended by the God's for. Hot Cider is preferable, but any Cider will do.”

His voice held a soft lilt form lands unknown. And the hidden wanderer stop talking as the keep nodded and went about making his third coin of the day. While left alone the concealed man pulled an impossible trick. He reached into a pouch that was only four inches deep and pulled out a nine-inch long pipe. And a small leather bag of fine sweet leaf. With no spoken word he pinched and filled his pipe and then returned the bag of leaf to his pouch and relocked its clasp.

No flame was pulled, but on the first draw the pip smoked and soon the very fine smell of cherry and vanilla filled the air wherever the smoke drifted. It was potent yes, but not over powering. Indeed a very fine smoking leaf. In the kitchen the keepers assistant went about making eggs as the keep poured him a Cider, hot, and handed him an orange. With Elvish pipe in lip, he started to gently peel the orange with a small throwing dagger now used as an eating knife.

_________________
To forget me deny's me that one true immortality. Of living on after my end in the hearts and minds of others..... To be forgotten is truly to die.

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Suicide is like telling god " You cant fire me! I QUIT ! ! "


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PostSubject: Re: Dawn in a Merchant Town   Tue Jul 30, 2013 7:23 pm

Diminutive and like a ghost she slipped through the town dressed in a drab grey gown free of any adornment. Yet those who knew her would recognize the pale moonlight hair that fell out of her grey cloaks hood. Her staff still a pristine white like her hair. Yet the luster seemed gone. Her eyes spoke of weariness not just of the day of week but years.

She belonged not to this town not to any town or kingdom. She was was a Vagabond she lived on the edges of society she shunned most of the cities now but she would come now and again for this and that supplies she might need.

She entered the tavern the dagger on her him and bits of silver crimped onto locks of hair were her only adornments. She paid the other person at the bar no mind. She slipped into a seat at the bar and Ordered eggs and some tea as well as half an orange.

It was Sharla but she looked like a ghost of herself as if she had forgotten to care about anything. She tossed down a few coins for the meal. She looked thin and exhausted no longer even bothering to use glamour to cover her scars. They helped hold people at bay. That way you didn't get hurt. A lesson hard learned.

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Lyo the Shadow Whistle
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Male
Number of posts : 702
Reputation : 15
Points : 709
Registration date : 2007-05-24

Character Information
Weapons and Armor (a general list please):
Title: Lord Master, Patron Father

PostSubject: Re: Dawn in a Merchant Town   Mon Aug 26, 2013 3:15 pm

Lyo knew her the second she entered. They had spent several years as acquaintances, they had spent time as lovers, and they had spent time as adversaries. Sharla Moonhaven had been in and out of his life several times in the last 60 years. She was merely there and a name known to him in the kingdom of Siannodel. She was a lost voice, hidden in the darkness of the Under-dark free hold of the City in the Rocks. And she was a voice of reason to him several times in the Tallendian Empire. They'd run into each other several times, in stranger places. But to see her walk into a tavern in Terka, lost out in the outer edges of the Golden Sea was so far the strangest place in his mind really.

This was farther away from the imperial core than almost anyone ever traveled, almost out in the wilder-lands as it were. Honestly Lyo was more surprised that they had an orange, than that
Sharla was here. She always showed up in strange places, and at strange times. However he was curious, not concerned, why she was dressed so shabby. She had a much more world weary look than he had ever seen her have before. Her normally pristine white garments were stained and faded. Grayed form the road and time. Her cloak mud splattered and ragged at the edges as if from a great long march..

He silently wondered what had befallen her since her escaped from the under dark that long time ago. It seemed life had been a long, hard road for the priestess. Her normal smile gone, her  stature shrunk, and her confidence seemed lacking. Or maybe it was something that had made the formerly outspoken one more timid? Perhaps a realization how how trouble followed her had over taken her normal outspoken nature for safety. He did not know, and even if he easily could pry into her mind and gather all the truths to his questions with out her knowing he did not.

Instead he let the silence roll on around then s the persons in the back room cooked the requested foods with a soft sizzle and the crackle of their fire. The inn keeper was busing himself getting another orange and fixing the cider for Lyo he was going to warm up, and odd request, but the innkeeper made no complaints. After all the patron that got what the asked for tipped better. After another minute or so the innkeeper placed the mug in front of  the pile or orange peels Lyo left so politely on the bar in front of him and then turned to go hurry up the cook to get both orders of eggs served to the two only patrons in the tavern.

_________________
To forget me deny's me that one true immortality. Of living on after my end in the hearts and minds of others..... To be forgotten is truly to die.

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Suicide is like telling god " You cant fire me! I QUIT ! ! "
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