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Old Jun 4th, 2016, 11:07 AM
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Arrival in Fallcrest

Kalwa Nuru rode Velvet to the gates of Fallcrest. A heavily bearded guard with a smoker's voice and dark, beady eyes, stopped her outside the Knight's Gate, the city's northernmost entrance.

"Name," barked the guard, a question with the bearing of a statement. "Business in Fallcrest?" A proper inquiry this time. He looked her over with a sneer that even his great bushel of a beard could not conceal. Clearly, the man was warming to her. "Length of stay?"

After providing her answers, the guard nodded and stood aside. "Move along." His dark eyes, like raisins stuffed into a ball of rising dough, followed her all the way through the gate.

In most parts of the Nentir Vale, the various races of the West lived in accord with one another, but that didn't mean there wasn't bias against certain races from others. Maybe the man liked orc women? Or, more likely, dwarves, considering his beard and general beefiness. Regardless, not everyone Kalwa had met in her travels had shown bias against her elven heritage, even in these predominantly human lands.

Ahead of her sprawled a cluttered and muddy city street. The last few days had been overcast with scattered showers. It looked like Fallcrest might have been hit with more than a shower. Horses, mules, and even a stray ox or two churned up the earthen streets as they pulled carts or carried their masters along, a writhing mass of humanity. Nalwa spied a trio of half-elves huddled together near a street food vendor and another full-blood elf strutting past on the back of a black and white dappled gelding. He did not meet her gaze.

A handsome, three-story building loomed ahead on the right, Sir Buckley's Tavern and Inn read the sign featuring an emblem of a knight's plumed helm. Further along, all manner of shops and eateries were situated along the main road that wound its way toward Fallcrests's interior. Off to the left, a narrower side-street that seemed to stretch off up toward the handsome but aged keep that loomed over the city atop a tall and forested hill.

OOCHere we go. Your choice on where to head and what to do. This game won't be a perfect sandbox, but I want to give you as much choice and freedom as the game will permit. I've specified the inn and the tavern, also a few different people you could engage with, but you can go pretty much anywhere you like.

Last edited by moozuba; Jun 6th, 2016 at 09:40 AM.
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Old Jun 6th, 2016, 02:37 AM
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"G'ta long!", "Block 'ed, move yer sen!", "Shift yer arse!!!", a potato whistled past Kal's left ear as the cacophony of shouts and insults penetrated her frozen mind. With a leathery creak and a rush of cold water down her spine she shifted her weight to the right stirrup and turned to look over her left shoulder. The angry mob, growing both more angry and more mob like by the moment, all seemed to be focused on her. Puzzlement creased her brow as she spotted the large doughy man, his cheeks reddened, beady raisin eyes like rapier tips boring into hers; his huge paw like a bunch of uncooked sausages waving frantically in her direction. Reality, like a mudslide, slipped back into her mind; she'd stopped, busy ogling, in the main thoroughfare, the gateway to the city.

With a sudden panic she remembered being asked several questions by the guard but how she'd responded was as big a mystery to her as why she'd come to this hellhole.

Her teeth clacked as she snapped her slack jawed mouth shut, her cheeks flushing she pressed her heels to Velvets midnight flanks and urged him gently forward. Offering her faithful companion no direction with her slack reins she reasoned he'd as much chance as her - if not better - at finding a way through this maze.

Kal had seen cities before of course, lots of them, but they had all been carefully inked. Towers, minarets and shaded rooftops, not a one of the books she'd studied showed the dirt, the mud, the business, nor the aroma of the whole chaotic affair. Her heart pounded, her head spun and she struggled to hold onto the meagre contents of her churning stomach. Refuse, decay and filth swamped her nostrils, cloying at the back of her throat she wrinkled her nose and tried not to gag.

Velvet plodded onwards. Ahead was a large broad shouldered man on a sweat covered bay, droplets of water dripped from his leather cloak as his horse clumped and slopped its way up the muddy river that ran between the buildings. A black tail swished at the flies just as a brown calloused hand flicked at the small cloud about his head. Velvet squelched along unnoticed a few meters behind. Shifting her weight in the saddle, reassured by the horses steady gait, Kal let her weary friend take her where he may, her head spinning this way and that, one shocking sight after another flooding her vision.

A woman emptying a pot of excrement from an upper floor window, narrowly missed a hurrying man with a leather wrapped bundle under his arm, it splattered into the thick mud and began to slowly ooze down the street.

A dishevelled old man with silver bristles and a round brimmed hat slumped against a wall, legs pointing west and south an empty glass bottle tightly gripped in his right hand.

A trio of mangy looking dogs snarling and yelping as they tore at something unidentifiable, great gloop's of mud flying hither and yonder as they ripped and shook the dirt covered morsel between them.

Her eyes came to rest on the three half-elven gathered around the small cart where a fourth ladled something steaming over a lump of bread. Her breath caught and her heart paused as the sudden realisation that with her to'ing and fro'ing it was quite possible that her pursuers, should there be any, would have arrived here ahead of her. She snorted blowing a fine spray of the cold rainwater from her lips as she considered her father... to him the elves were the ruling race and his family part of the crown which sat its head, he himself one the brighter jewels which decorated the coronet of arrogance. He would never lower himself to employ demi-elves, even in the pursuit of his family integrity; such unworthy creatures would be far below his consideration. Smirking at her own jitteriness she watched as the three huddled together eagerly downing the gooey mush whilst droplets of rain fell from their lank hair.

Feeling a little more settled and rational she carefully eyed the proud elf on his piebald looking for any sign of inquiry; intent on his passage both he and his mare came and went, oblivious to her presence.

Swaddled within her cloak the moisture long since having penetrated beneath she shivered as her cold weariness once more fought for her attention. She may not remember the answers she gave the bearded man with the puffy face but she clearly recalled her main motivation for entering this madness; a hot meal, an even hotter bath and an equally comforting bed would go a long way to soothing away her first impressions of this cruddy little city.

As if prompted by her thoughts Velvet abruptly halted having turned away from the main slick brown artery into a small side alley beside a beautiful three storey building which a sign identified as Sir Buckley's Tavern. "Sir?" She mused, "It might be a pretty building but Buckley can't have done very well in the dragon wrangling, princess rescuing profession if this were the castle he'd been rewarded in knighthood."

Kal listened as the large man Velvet had wisely followed dismounted with a plop and a squelch and handed the reins of his bay to a young lad with golden hair. He grunted something to the lad and tossed him a copper coin before sliding his way to the wooden decking which surrounded Buckley's Castle; the planked skirt giving the appearance that the entire three stories were on a raft floating down this river of scuzz.

After he had rounded the corner towards the front of the building she too dismounted, the soft mire squishing out from under her boots, cold water back filling the indentation and numbing her aching toes. She shook her muscles loose and the excess water from her cloak; arrows rattled in their quiver and trouser legs lengthened several inches.
The young flaxen haired boy returned just as she hoisted her backpack from Velvets steaming saddle.

"I have only gold." She declared. "If you take good care of Velvet here, clean him down, brush and feed him well, there'll be a silver piece in it for you, agreed?"

Perhaps silver were too much she noted as the boys eyes lit bright and he eagerly led Velvet into the warmth of the stable. It could never be enough to repay her dearest and indeed only friend these past weeks but she had to be careful of attracting attention; she'd much to learn.

With the thought of unwanted attention at the forefront of her mind she very carefully picked her way towards the wooden planks, certain that a loud splat and the vision of a young elf lying on her back in this cesspit was one sure way to get her noticed. Thankfully she made it to drier ground, a little cloud of exhaled breath marking her victory. Stomping away most of the clumping crud she made her way round to the front of Buckley's Tavern, her nerves tingling with apprehension having never been near, yet alone inside, such an establishment before. She'd read many stories of adventures, which frequently began or ended - often with plentiful smattering's throughout - in Inns and Taverns. They seemed to vary between the extremes of dark, smoky dangerous dens of criminal subterfuge and light, airy, welcoming places with cheery ruddy cheeked jovial landlords eager to please and serve. She muttered a quiet hope that Buckley fitted the later description as she approached the door and turned the handle. A deep steadying breath as she straightened her posture threw back her soaked hood and pushed open the wooden portal to the new and mysterious world within.

 

 
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Old Jun 14th, 2016, 01:29 PM
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The stable-boy's expression assured Kalwa that Velvet would be well-cared for. She glimpsed the lad in the stall biting down on the copper and casting a cautious but hopeful look in direction of the woman who'd promised him a whole silver for a tip if he watched after her horse. He would, of course. That was his job. But the promise of an extra silver piece provided the added incentive to take extra special care with this one.

A rush of warm air, rich with the scents of tobacco smoke and brewer's yeast, issued from the door of Sir Buckley's Tavern and Inn as Nalwa made her way inside. The innkeeper was a barrel-chested man with a thick red beard streaked through with grey, and arms like tree branches. He beckoned Nalwa toward the bar with a toothy grin. "Welcome, lass. Is it dinner, a pint, or a bed you be seeking? We've all three, though only the one room left, unless you'll want to be bunking in with some'un?"

All six of the round wooden tables were claimed and half the seats at the bar, also. At the very least, Buckley's was popular enough to comfort a newcomer. If the locals liked a place, it was bound to have decent something. Whether it was the ale, the food, or the beds was left to Nalwa to discern. One table hosted a dice game, but the others all boasted some manner of food -- roast pheasant with boiled potatoes at one, bread and cheese at another, and a slab of some charred red meat at a table where two dwarves and a rather ugly half-orc huddled over steins of beer. Some of the patrons looked up, but few seemed interested in the newcomer. The decor inside was rustic, a suit of armor and a smattering of shields painted with what must have been the Buckley Family Crest -- an ash tree crossed by a red spear split with a wyvern wearing a silver crown -- and a few pitted old swords, were the only adornments to the otherwise plain, but tidy, tavern.

A woman bustled past, carrying a large tray filled with multiple dishes of roast pheasant, pungent cheeses, and crusty breads, as well as an unopened bottle of wine. She brushed against Nalwa as she squeezed past, being of considerably greater girth in the hips than the slender elven woman. "Beg yer pardon," she said without so much as glancing Nalwa's direction. She had red hair, similar in color to the innkeep's beard, and a full figure accentuated by a peasant-style server's gown.
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Old Jun 14th, 2016, 09:28 PM
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Kal stood for a moment to let her eyes adjust to the light and smoke in the room before stepping across the threshold. At least the air which welcomed her was warm if a little stale, with that knowledge and the assurance that Velvet would be well looked after things were looking quite promising.

The Innkeep reminded her of a dying fire with the bright red embers glowing amongst the light grey ashes. He was a large man and could once have been a warrior of sorts with his build but his greying beard suggested it had been quite some time since he'd retired from the sword swinging, shield wielding business of being a knight. If indeed he ever was a knight and not just a dreamer with an inflated ego. Sven had warned her that most deaths in combat were due to an underestimation of the opponent and with that in mind she endeavoured to treat everyone as a potentially lethal killer. If Sir Buckley wanted to be considered a knight then she would respect his wishes, until they were proven otherwise. The toothy greeting which he offered was certainly friendly enough, she approached the bar as he beckoned, scanning and mentally recording the details of the inn as she went.
It was heartening to note that none of the patrons paid her any particular attention although she took particular care to steer clear of the small table with the dwarves and half-orc. Her features didn't really yell "elf" hence her family problems but even so caution was her best friend since leaving the family estate.

"Good evening. Sir Buckley is it?" pulling out one of the remaining stools she slid her rather sore backside onto it, a welcome relief from her overly familiar saddle. "It's a busy place you have here Sir, I would indeed like all of the things you offer, the room, a bottle of wine and..." she glanced around at the other tables thoughtfully, "and a plate of that delicious looking pheasant and potatoes if you have a little left."

As the rotund woman bustled past her the aroma of the food she was carrying made her mouth water, the red head apologised as she hustled away and Kal noticed just how busy and snug the room was, all the tables were taken and she didn't fancy dining at the bar.

"I see your establishment is popular Sir Buckley, not a table to spare, perhaps I might take my refreshments in my room? I don't suppose.." she hesitated as she assessed the meagre decorations and plainness of the Inn but nothing ventured nothing gained so she continued, "you might have a hot bath in which a tired and sore young woman might rid herself of the dirt of the road?"

 
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Old Jun 22nd, 2016, 10:27 AM
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The stout-chested innkeeper bellowed with laughter and retreived a clean glass from beneath the bar. "Name's Richard. T'ain't been a Buckley round these parts since, by gods, since my grandpap's grandpap were an enlisted man. But what we lack in geneaology, we more'n make up for in hospitality."

Plucking a dark wine bottle from the shelves behind the counter, he trudged over to her table, a clean white apron wrapped around his pot belly, and set the glass down in front of her. A corkscrew appeared from the pocket of his apron and with a twist and a tug he had the bottle open. The wine poured a dark, burgundy red. "I don't much mind if'n you prefer to eat in your room, but I'll have to ask for payment up front in that case. You understand, I'm sure? That'll be sixteen silver. Ten for the room, three each for the wine and the pheasant. 'Ts usually one for a bath. Firewood being harder to come by and all that. But I'll waive that fee for t'night. I'll get someone on it. They'll fetch you when it's ready."

As soon as payment was rendered, he pressed a key into her hand with a hand-written tag that read '8.' Room 8 turned out to be a small, cozy one-person room with a comfortable, if not slightly lumpy, mattress, a chamber pot, and a dressing table. The bath was on the first floor, appended to the kitchen with access from the outside only. The tub would take an hour or so to fill and heat through.
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Old Jun 22nd, 2016, 06:56 PM
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Kal looked at the room, it was small, it was a little dusty - granted, compared to her feather and wool filled one back at the estate the mattress was a little on the lumpy side - but it had four walls: well three and a door at least. It was the first time she'd been indoors since running away and compared with a tree bough or the forest floor the mattress was a beautifully warm and soft lump of freshly kneaded dough. She smiled to herself as she lay and looked at the wooden ceiling, she loved stars, they seemed to hold a hope, a glimmer of something untouched by the filth of human kind, twinkling away against the blackness that tried to consume them, for this night, this one wonderful night, a little excitement, nay elation washed through her at their absence.

Her bones ached. Her muscles throbbed. She hadn't realised just how badly until she lay them down on the welcome bed. With a sigh she rolled to the side bringing her feet to the wooden floor, if she didn't keep moving they'd likely find her here in a day or two, still sleeping, with a huge grin smearing her dirty face. Her backpack lay in the corner where she'd dropped it and she reached over and dragged it noisily across the wooden boards. Flipping open the top she removed clean clothes and her bar of soap, remembering the bath gave her fresh energy and she was standing sorting through and checking her belongings when the knock at the door startled her. Opening it carefully being sure to stand to one side should anyone decide to kick it open her other hand resting on the hilt of her dagger she peered out into the corridor. Before her eyes could adjust to the new light her nose registered the identity of her visitor and her mouth responded by flooding with saliva as the aroma of hot roasted pheasant and potatoes flooded into the small room. The large red headed woman handed over her tray looked her up and down and - her own nose obviously making its own reports - creased up her face a little as she informed Kal that her bath would be ready by the time she'd finished eating. Unable to utter a thank you for fear of spraying spittle all over the already disgusted woman she took the wooden tray and simply nodded her thanks before closing the door and returning to sit on the edge of the bed and feast.

Sated she wiped the grease from her mouth with her grime covered sleeve, it had been a good move to eat in her room, she considered the attention she may have drawn as she savaged the poor dead bird and innocent potatoes like an enraged animal. She belched loudly, sighed with satisfaction and rose to prepare for her bath. Taking her fresh clothes and soap she moved over to the door and turned to take a mental image of her small room and belongings. She had nothing of value, nothing she didn't carry with her at least, but even so it always paid to know if someone else might wonder about her possessions. She squatted down beside the door and noting the small scratches on the wooden boards which marked its opening arc she used her dagger to scrape a few small curly slithers of her soap just outside of the curve. Tiny little shavings so beautifully curved and barely visible, she smiled in satisfaction stood and opened the door very gently so as not to blow her work away herself. Stepping carefully over them she strode down the hallway towards a refreshing bath.

Two wonderful hours she lay in the tub, the water had gone cold, her flesh had wrinkled and her buttocks numbed, it was sheer delight. Now, clean of several weeks of muck she finally felt a little normal, a little decent even. She'd washed her hair but only with water, leaving it still a little tangled and grubby. It'd been hard, her desire to be able to run her fingers through silky smooth dust free and shiny hair was almost overpowering but it just wouldn't do to look too clean and beautiful. Not in a place like this, she might turn heads and that was not a good or welcome idea. So with a deep lungfull of her own freshness and the sensuous warmth of fresh clothes she sauntered back out to the bar. Although her mattress beckoned perhaps she should find out a little more about this city she had wandered into.

She gave Richard her best smile, easily achieved after her soak, "Another mug of that fine wine if you would please Richard." The words exuding from her like warm chocolate coating poor Dick in her most sensual tones. "Do tell me Sir, what news hereabouts?"

 
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Old Jul 1st, 2016, 09:09 PM
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Richard the Innkeep flashed a broad smile at Kalwa when she appeared, but his expression fell into a long frown when she requested another cup of wine. "Thousand pardon, miss, but we only sell that particular vintage by the bottle. I happen to have one bottle left, if'n you'd like? A meager three silver for a very fine vintage, if'n I do say so meself."

Before Kalwa could respond to the 'generous' offer, the door to the tavern pushed open a sliver and a small, grubby figure darted in through the gap. A street urchin, with threadbare clothes caked in dirt and pointed ears (smaller than Kalwa's, but more prominently displayed) poking out of a mop of matted hair that might have once been blonde.

The child sprinted into the room, pivoted, and headed toward the kitchen door. The rotund innkeeper bellowed, "Hey! You there!" The urchin did not slow. Casting a look over his shoulder in the direction of the door, he tripped over his own feet and went flying into Kalwa, knocking over the barstool beside her. It clattered to the floor. The urchin looked up at Kalwa, scrambling to regain his feet. For a moment, she saw wide, brown eyes -- fearful, weary, and mischievious -- then he pushed away from her and darted around the bar and through the kitchen door, just barely evading Richard's meaty paw. "Filthy streetrat," he shouted after the kid.

Kalwa righted herself and realized, to her own surprise, that she was holding a small leather satchel no larger than a working man's coin purse.

Before she could examine the purse, the door burst open and two men rushed into the room. The first had the look of a weasel about him, lanky and fluid in his movements with dark, shifty eyes and a dirk clutched in his right hand. The other, a hairy half-orc, was much larger and had the air of a wolf about him. He brandished no weapon, but his fists were natural hammers and two long incisors protruded from the pronounced underbite of his lower jaw. "Where's the rat?" asked the smaller of the two men. They paced the room, looking around at the faces of the patrons. The weasel smiled and said, "A gold sovereign says one of ya saw which way the kid went." The dirk disappeared and, with a flick of the wrist, a bona fide gold coin appeared, pinched between the weasel's thumb and forefinger. "How about it, lads?"

 
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Old Jul 1st, 2016, 11:28 PM
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Kal was just pondering whether the Innkeep were taking advantage of her with his three silver "vintage" wine when the filthy little child barged headlong into her. Instinctually she reached out, in part to protect herself from the living missile but also reflexively to catch and save the youngster from harming itself. Between the blow to her stomach, - which very nearly had her folded double - the revulsion as the overwhelming aroma of the guttersnipe slammed into her harder than it's physical form, and the pain of the falling barstool scraping her shin, she had no idea how she came to be holding the small leather bag.

She was about to return the small pouch to the wide-eyed urchin when it scrambled to its feet and fled out the kitchen door to the rear of the Inn. A mere second later the front door was nearly ripped from it's leather hinges as it swung back into the wall revealing the two large angry men. Reflexes more than reason caused her to smoothly slip the pouch beneath her cloak and tuck it into her belt, her heart pounded as the weaselly looking brute asked the room, "Where's the rat?"

As the pair surveyed the patrons and offered a gold sovereign for information on the kid a sudden thought flashed across her mind and she quickly reached to check her own coin. It would indeed be a canny maneuver to lift her full purse and leave her holding a bag of pebbles in its stead, but apparently theft wasn't a motivation for little ragamuffin; not from her at least. She casually ran her fingers over the newly acquired pouch trying to
Dice Perception:
1d20+7 (17)+7 Total = 24
identify the possible contents as her mind whirled with options. Richard the Innkeep seemed to be wholly distracted by the fact that the small bundle of filth was loose within his otherwise hygienic kitchen and most of the other patrons either missed the kerfuffle at the bar or were reluctant to involve themselves with the two brutes.

"A gold coin was a gold coin." She reasoned to herself and since there was only one other exit - that she knew of - from the Inn and pretty soon the men were going to figure that out for themselves, especially with the Innkeep's singular attention and the noise coming from the kitchen, "No harm, no foul." She concluded. Not being completely callous and aware that every few seconds she could buy the fleeing child would help ease her conscience, she took a step towards the smaller man; the one with the flashing gold.

"For a gold piece I may be able to enlighten you fellows with the information you seek, but before I do I would know your reasons for it? 'Twas just a child after all." She held eye contact while she spoke and exerted as much
Dice Deception:
1d20+4 (8)+4 Total = 12
or
Dice Persuasion::
1d20+2 (12)+2 Total = 14
I suspect the later is more appropriate.
confidence as she could muster.

 
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Old Jul 4th, 2016, 02:39 PM
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The weasel looked Kalwa up and down, leering as he did so. It was the sort of look designed to make a woman's skin crawl. But it was the bigger of the two, the wolf, that spoke first. "Ain't none of yer business, is it?" One grey-green hand, as big as Kalwa's head and tipped with sharpened yellow nails -- the better to cut you with, my dear -- clenched into a fist. "Where's 'e at?"

The weasel touched his partner's arm and the fist relaxed, but did not unclench. The smaller man flashed a sly smile at Kalwa. It was meant to be reassuring, maybe even friendly, but his wide, dark eyes so glinted with hunger -- whether greed, bloodlust, or lust of a different sort, she could not say -- that she realized at once that it was insincere. "Is that anyway to treat a lady, Mister Lang? If you must know, the lad stole something. My, uh, grandmama's purse," he said, renewing the smile which at no point touched his eyes. He showed long rows of crooked brown teeth. "We'd like to talk with him. Set him on the straight-and-narrow, don't you know?" Kalwa had the strong impression that the only thing 'straight and narrow' the weasel and Mister Lang would be showing the boy was the business end of a dagger.

The innkeeper wrung his hands nervously and kept looking from the two men toward the kitchen door which stood open. The rest of the patrons were watching Kalwa to see what she would do -- the common room of Sir Buckley's had fallen deathly silent.

 

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Old Jul 4th, 2016, 07:14 PM
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Kal wasn't stupid, she was smart enough to be scared by these two creatures. As the big one spoke his wolf like features brought back memories...

~~~

Her knee pressed firmly against the deer keeping it on it's back the normally elegant front legs hanging pathetically whilst the rear spread eagle in submission; welcoming her blade. With her two right fingers she quickly located it's sternum and glancing at Sven for confirmation she placed the tip of her knife just below her fingertips. Despite the keen edge of the blade it took a little more effort than she might have thought to pierce the thick hide and membrane below. Carefully she slid the steel edge down the stomach making sure that the tip never went so deep as to pierce the gut.
With the large incision complete she was next faced with the least pleasant part, as Sven took a knee alongside watching her work she carefully, and reluctantly slipped her hands inside the still warm creature. The lingering heat of its life brought a tear to her eye, remorse impaled her heart just as the arrow tip had penetrated the deers. An image filled her mind of the beautiful red speckled animal grazing gently in the dappled forest light, it's small tail flicking back and forth.

"Food is food," she'd thought to herself, "we all must eat." She swore to herself right there that the greatest honour she could give this beautiful spirit was to ensure that she appreciated every morsel of life it now gifted her. With that she eased it's guts out onto the lush grass carefully slicing away the membranes that fought to keep the body intact.

The rising steam and stench of half digested fodder filled her sinuses just as the deep vibrating growl filled her ears.

Her hands froze, her gaze lifting slowly to be confronted with the wide yellow eyes and drool dribbling muzzle of the huge wolf. She felt Sven's hand brush against her leg as it reached, very slowly for his blade. A few feet to the left of the glistening canines the foliage moved aside, another snarling snout entered the glade and then another on the right; a chorus of resonating blood curdling growls began to join the first. As if in a sudden cold snap, she froze.

Sven's hand on her shoulder startled her back to reality, "Maintain eye contact with the big one, keep low and back away slowly. Show no fear." His whispered words slicing into her mind just as her knife had the deer's hide. She knew, absolutely, that she was no match for this pack of wolves, her deer was now theirs for the taking and her life too should she offer any resistance. Her heart somehow managed to swell with sadness despite already being filled to capacity with fear.

Very carefully, her blood and bile covered hand clutching her small dagger, she did as Sven told her. The few meagre meters backing up to the edge of the glade the longest journey of her life, but a journey which left her with life for another day, another deer.

~~~

"Ah theft! A reprehensible crime indeed." She agreed as the smaller weaselly man dribbled his lies through umber teeth. "In that case gentlemen I will be only to glad to assist you." Smiling to show that she was on their side and meant no harm she maintained eye contact with the smaller of the two, the obvious leader of this pack. The game was run, she had bought the youngster all the time she could manage, now was the time to back away and give these curs what they wanted. Only the two of them, it rankled her, but she didn't know this city, knew nothing of its laws, it's customs. Her peripheral vision was telling her that the other patrons were no substitutes for Sven, if this became a battle she fought alone.

"He went out through the kitchen," she pointed with the one hand whilst holding out the other for the gold coin the weasel still gripped tightly. "I hope you fellas catch him. Be sure to give him a lesson that will change his life, and his ways." She added, pretending her sympathy with their plight. For a split second panic gripped her as she realized that the youngsters life and her own were now undeniably entwined. Should these two lowlife's catch the child then it would invariably point them back to her and the pouch on her belt.
Even if they didn't catch him their paths may be doomed to cross again depending on whether the theft was just an innocent pick pocketing or, the oversized key she'd felt, a specific target.

Forcing her mind back to the situation at hand, "It's a disgrace, stealing from the grandma of an honest man like yourself." With her emphasis on the word 'honest' she let her eyes drift over to the gold sovereign.

 
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