Today is of the Cycle Of The Seventh Moon.
Current Season & Month:  , Year: 543 A.R. (ref)

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The Central Street


Wynterleaf
(@wynterleaf)
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Eddellyn Wynterleaf

 

No, I dinnae recognize the seal.

Wynterleaf turned away from the hawker’s stall on the thoroughfare, the words echoing in her ears. Over the past few days, she’d made several subtle inquiries around the city, asking if anyone recognized the sigil she’d shown them. The responses were always a variation of the same theme. No. Check somewhere else.

She had expected to have a learned more by now but it was as if the sigil was a product of her imagination, despite the fact it was etched into the gem encrusted amulet she had hidden in her bags. Knowing it unwise to flash a valuable piece of jewelry around to all and sundry, she had painstakingly drawn the image herself and without any sense of pride, knew it was a good likeness. Yet no one knew anything about the emblem or to whom it belonged.

Months of searching had brought her across the Verical from Kiana, a trip she had been loathe to make. Her first real memories were of Ufaeria, washed ashore from a shipwreck on the north coast long ago, the accident wiping any life she might have had before then from her mind. The ship she'd traveled aboard lost at sea and nearly her own life with it. She had only survived because of the curiosity, or perhaps ennui, of a death angel who had heard her dying thoughts and intervened to spare her soul.

Wynterleaf pushed back the memories, though she no longer felt the ache of loss over the past neither did she wish to dwell on it. The voyage to Ufaeria this time had been unremarkable, if not downright tedious aboard the small merchant vessel. The sailors had been polite, the merchant wary but shrewd enough to take her gold, and no questions asked.

But all of that, dredging up past memories, the dull stretch of time aboard the ship, it was all leading to naught. She knew the amulet she had pulled from the ruins of Kiana was more than a simple keepsake. It pointed to the origins and designs of those that had destroyed the city, of the power they claimed and disappeared with, leaving scant clues. To date, the only thing of note she had confirmed was the emblem was Ufaerian in design, likely from Liathildor. Which led her on her current search in the city.

She exhaled a huff of air and made her way further down the street. It was late afternoon, close to the hour most vendors and laborers started closing shop but she had one last visit to make. The barmaid at the inn suggested she speak to the owner of The Lavish Hand, a well-established tailor found in the Quarters. The maid told her that the fellow was likely to know everyone and everything of importance in the city.

Flanked by the edifices of large cheerless buildings, she quickly found the tiny shop, it’s exterior a clean and bright contrast to the rest of the storefronts in the area. The windows shone in the late afternoon sun, showing a small display of ready-made clothing for sale, seemingly well made but exorbitant in detail.

Wynterleaf glanced down at her own attire of a clean grey silk tunic, paired with dark green pants. Both were of good quality but weren’t ostentatious, plain compared to the window display. The only exception to her outfit being the detailed black embroidery on the collar of her equally black cloak, which she wore loosely over her shoulders today.

She shrugged and pushed her cloak a bit more to her right side, hiding both her arm and the sword belted at her waist in the process. She doubted she would pass for a patron of flamboyant clothes but neither did she want to give the owner a reason to dismiss her at first sight. With an air of determination, she opened the door and entered the building.

 

[OOC: to The Lavish Hand]


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Wynterleaf
(@wynterleaf)
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Joined: 11 months ago
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Eddellyn Wynterleaf

[OOC: from The Lavish Hand]

Wynterleaf returned to The Tree and Tankard and as she ate a quiet meal in her room that evening, went over her next steps.

Discreetly asking questions around the Quarter had gotten her nothing of value thus far; she had the impression the tailor knew something but he was unwilling or afraid to share and she wasn’t quite ready to resort to a more forceful means to get him to reveal what he knew. The moment she pulled her blade to extract information it would become much more difficult to interrogate anyone else going forward. Word would spread fast and out of interest in keeping their own necks safe, everyone would refuse to even speak with her.

After cleaning up and putting out the lantern, Wynterleaf stretched out on the somewhat lumpy but not wholly uncomfortable bed and let her gaze wander unfocused across the ceiling, her mind far away.

It'd been many long months since she’d began this journey of inquiry, starting from the moment she pulled the amulet from ruins of Kiana. The delicate diamond and emerald necklace was worth more than most bandits would see in a year but to Eddellyn, the sigil etched in the center was more important for the information it represented. Stories of the battle waged in Kiana had made it to her ears in and she became curious to know more about the parties involved and what they had been after in the harbour town.

Her questioning revealed that it was Ufaerian invaders, with obvious strong magicks at hand to have destroyed the city as they had and rumors that they were there to retrieve a powerful weapon, only fueling her desire to find all the answers. The more she had learned about the parties involved in the battle, the more she drew a parallel to her own experiences. Were the wizards from Ufaeria, allies or rivals to the Edradul mages? Though it was little matter in either case, as she wasn’t going to leave anything of power in wizards’ hands.

Traveling across the Vericul had led her to an elven family in Rondor who’d sent a couple of household members to support the wizards of Greyhaven on a secretive mission across the sea. They only knew that those youth had never returned home, having been reported killed in the battle, and suspicions about what’d really happened in Kiana. They promised her substantial coin if she could bring them concrete proof their children had been betrayed, along with specific names of those responsible. 

Wynterleaf rubbed her fingers over the knotted mass of scar tissue of her right arm that marked the place where her hand used to be. She well understood the need for revenge that the Rondorian family had expressed. It was the same need that was her constant companion. But it was not her place to comfort to the elven nobles. She hadn't felt any compunction on declining the Rondorians offer, her last word to them only that she would seek enough answers to appease her own satisfaction.

Sleep that night was a long time coming and restless when it did. Her dreams were hazy and unfocused, the only lingering memory that stayed with her when she woke the next morning was of feathers drifting across a barren wasteland.


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Wynterleaf
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Wynterleaf's first instinct on waking the next morning was to reach for her bags and withdraw a small leather-bound book, the cover stained dark and worn with age, with several pieces of paper sticking out at odd angles along the edges. Untying the strip of leather that held it closed, her fingers moved on instinct, finding a heavy piece of parchment folded between the pages near the back. Mindful of the brittle edges, she pried open the paper to reveal a single feather pressed carefully inside, ebony black with an iridescent sheen.

It had been an age since she thought of the memento or from where it had come. Her hand hovered over the feather for a long moment, not quite willing to make physical contact, before she closed the book decisively. That life was long gone to her now and had no place in the present.

As Eddellyn washed up and prepared for the day, she was still troubled that her mind had dredged up the feather after all this time and could only blame being back in Ufaeria for bringing up long-dead memories.

She still hadn’t settled on next steps in her search for information about the wizards or their enclave, when there was a knock at her door. Ensuring that her sword was nearby, she opened the door an arms width to reveal a half-uman boy on the other side. He was a bit grimy but did not look to be otherwise nefarious. She recognized him as the lad who helped with odd jobs around the inn, so wasn’t surprised when he handed her a piece of paper, her name written in a scrawling script on the front, “Wynterleaf”.

Taking the paper from him, she gave him a quick word of thanks and paid him one silver for his efforts. His reaction at receiving the coin was a look of surprise cross his face, followed by a wide toothy grin, showing a gap between his front teeth. “Thanks!”

Wynterleaf remained in the doorframe, watching as the lad skipped his way back down the stairs before she shut herself back in her room. Alone, she quickly scanned the note with a small degree of surprise,

Wynterleaf.-If yew still needs a gown, please return to my shop this afternoon. Bring your coin. --V Chemaux

She was wary as to why the tailor had changed his mind but there was no way she was going to ignore his note and would return to the Lavish Hand to see what he had to share.

 

[OOC: to The Lavish Hand]


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Wynterleaf
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Eddellyn Wynterleaf

[OOC: from The Lavish Hand]

From the Lavish Hand, Wynterleaf decided to resupply for her trip to the Bridgeways, as once she left the city she didn’t intend to return any time soon. She hoped that she would find what she needed at the Syltamul estates to lead her on to the wizards and their weapon, wherever and whatever that may be. That she had agreed upon payment with Vincen Chemaux wasn’t going to deter those plans, as she never promised as to when she would repay him. Strangely enough, she’d felt a small twinge of guilt at leaving the tailor waiting for payment, he had provided an invaluable service for her and her conscience would see that she committed to doing what she could to settle her debt with him.

Her first stop after the clothing shop was at a general goods store, where she bought a small selection of hard breads and dried fruit, food to supplement anything she might forage or hunt for herself in the countryside. While it was likely there would an inn or tavern in the area of the Bridgeways, she planned to stay off the main through-ways and out of public sight.

Until she had a better understanding of the estate and those who lived there, she wanted to remain as inconspicuous as possible. Her appearance wasn’t exactly unremarkable and easily be described, so it wouldn’t be difficult to mark her presence and fuel gossip of a stranger skulking about asking questions no one wanted to answer.

After the purchases of a few other small odds and ends to make her travel easier, she unbent enough to seek a place that sold magickal items. While it went against her nature to own anything of magick origin, if she intended to stalk wizards, it wise to have some form of protection for herself.

Of the items the magick merchant had in stock, the one that appeared the most useful was a ring that provided the ability to hide the wearer from magickal senses, even if it couldn’t hide a person physically - one wrong step would still trigger a trap, a single glance would reveal her in the flesh. Eddellyn stared at the gold band, set with a rough uncut ruby in the center, and made the decision to purchase it. Combined with her skills of stealth, it would give her the best chance at taking the Mystics with an element of surprise.

Not unexpectedly, the cost of the ring was exorbitant, more than she anticipated spending and she bartered with the seller to get the price down eighty percent of the original cost. Even with the discount, the purchase had nearly depleted the funds she'd brought to Ufaeria, which meant that she would have to be more cautious with her spending going forward or look for an opportunity to replenish her coins. She slipped the band onto her middle finger, a decent fit, and left the shop.

Her last stop for the day was in the alleyways, where she met a wiry figure dressed in black, a hood hiding their features. Exchanging a few coins with the figure, she dipped her voice and asked, “What can you tell me of the Syltamuls and their estate?


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Wynterleaf
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Wynterleaf listened with half an ear as her contact rambled about the various nobles in the Bridgeways and the surrounding area. They had been much more interested in telling her about the spectacular value of an art collection or the ostentatious gems and baubles that the nobles flaunted, than giving her any tangible information about how to get into the estate. At the end of the conversation, she only had a vague outline as to what the estate looked like and the Syltamuls themselves. It seemed that it was best left for her to find out herself; to discover a means to approach the nobles and then find her way to the Mystics and their stronghold. She parted with a few more precious coins and bid goodbye to alleyway snitch.

Her head bent in thought, she wound her way back through the side streets and onto the central roadway once more, ready to return to the Tree and Tankard for the remainder of the day. She let the din of the city wash over her, vaguely cognizant of the clatter from carriage wheels and the raucous sounds of the merchants pushing their wares. In her mind, she was going over everything she had learned that day.

If indeed it was the Mystics of Greyhaven who had invaded Kiana and laid waste to the halfling village, they had done so in order to secure an impressive artifact of power. A device that had to have significant enough worth for them to betray the contingent they brought with them from Ufaeria. It seemed that the Mystics likely already wielded a significant degree of power in Greyhaven, enough to allow them no consideration toward the other elven cities. And if there was anyone in the area that knew the Mystics it would be the Syltamuls, their connections stretching far among those political and powerful. However, there was still one gap in her knowledge that troubled her. She still had yet to learn the nature of the weapon and that had her on edge. Without knowing what she was looking for, she had no way to prepare in advance the best way to steal and destroy the weapon.

Her mind preoccupied, she turned her steps toward the inn and a bit of ale and some warm food might give her a better perspective. 

(OOC: apologies, word vomit.)

[OOC: to The Tree & Tankard]


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NoOne
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Outside the Tree and Tankard

The outside of the venerable establishment is kept in as good a state of repair as the inside. The Inn sports the usual accoutrements of outbuildings, stables, and hitching posts as any respectable rest stop. The connecting brick streets and alleyways are kept neat and tidy by the staff.

 

Travion

From: Inside

"Our ride, M'lady!" Leading the way out of the Tankard, Travion made a grandiose gesture worthy of a gilded carriage pulled by a sextet of racing stallions. "Wynterleaf, I give yew, Triggerfeet!" 

What he pointed to was 

A horse. 

It was a pretty horse. It had a uniquely-colored hide and mane. It's saddle, bridle, and reins were in perfect condition, lovingly oiled, spotlessly polished, with more than enough flair. The beast clearly got a LOT of grooming. It's tail was decorated with a rather ornate wrap and braid, but it was just a horse. 

Travion clearly did not think so. Clicking his teeth, he patted and rubbed the horse's head. "Hey Trig! Hey you beauty, d'ya wanna meet my friend? Do ya?" He cooed before presenting the elfmaid to the animal. "Trig, meet Wynterleaf." One might have been a little suspicious of a man so solicitous of his mount. Wynterleaf could have been forgiving for suspecting that Travion might be making some sort of joke or doing a bit of comedy for her benefit, however, one look into his eyes, as absolutely free of guile as they were full of admiration for his steed, would dispel any thoughts that Travion was not completely lost in the adoration

of his horse.


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Wynterleaf
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Eddellyn Wynterleaf

[OOC: From The Tree and Tankard Inn]

Wynterleaf exhaled slowly as she exited the tavern and subtly stretched her neck from side to side, before she settled her cloak over one shoulder,  not needing it in the warm afternoon sun. She followed Travion across the stableyard to where he stood proudly showing off a blue roan. The horse was indeed beautiful, the markings unique as was the silvery greenish gleam of it's gleaming coat that spoke of dedicated and exacting grooming.  Even the tack it wore was of excellent quality, as befitting such a prized steed, and showed diligent care. 

Out of old habit, she found herself mentally calculating the value of both the gear and the horse, instinctively knowing that both would fetch an excellent amount of gold. Even suspecting that the horse would be too recognizable to easily sell, she felt that wouldn’t deter many buyers. She studied Travion as he cooed in the mare’s ear and affectionately pet her head before he turned to introduce the horse to her. No, she silently decided, the elven lord would be devastated should anything happen to Triggerfeet, and besides which, she had already resolved not to steal Tavion’s horse. Plus there was little need to steal it, other than to prove she could, to enjoy the rush of adrenaline the challenge provided, but a horse theft would only complicate her current objectives in Liathildor. 

Suppressing a grin at Travion’s solicitous manner toward the beast, she said, as solemnly as she could manage, “Hullo Triggerfeet.” 

She outstretched her flattened palm to let the mare sniff and for Travion’s benefit she remarked, “She’s a lovely horse. I can see why you admire her so much.” 

After allowing the horse a moment to take in her scent, Wynterleaf withdrew her hand and tucked it close to her body as she folded her arms across her chest, no longer feeling amused. She leveled a direct look at Travion, assessing him anew that she had confirmation that he was a noble. 

I realize most of that was for the other lord’s benefit,” she tipped her head back in the direction of the Tankard as she said this, “But how sincere were you about the masquerade?


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NoOne
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Young Lord Travion

"Ah, Trig, yew like her, don't ya, girl?" Travion gushed at the twitching of Triggerfeet's ears. 

Of course his family could not afford for the young lord to bring an unknown, possibly even a commoner, to the masquerade at the Syltamul estate. They would, no doubt, have a list of eligible noblewomen for him to choose from, to some who's families they would have already dropped hints and innuendo in order to secure favor or courtesy. 

But she complimented Triggerfeet. So there was no question that Wynterleaf would be his companion to the ball. "As the grave, M'lady." He answered. "Speaking of which... er, the ball, not the grave... if ye be not otherwise engaged, would yew care to accompany me to my fitting?" Travion asked. "Otherwise, I can take you wherever you need to be, then pick you up again prior to the ball."

The young lord was obviously more focused on the transport to and from subsequent events, than what occured once they reached their destinations. "How about it, Trig? You want a double-ride, girl?" He said with enthusiasm, only later realizing he might be making a bit of a faux pas. "Er... I mean, if the lady allows, of course." Recovering, Travion flashed Wynterleaf what he thought was a winning smile.  


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Wynterleaf
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Wynterleaf narrowed her gaze on Travion as he spoke, saying he would take her to the masquerade ball, even though she hadn’t missed the momentary panic that colored his features. The offer might not have been sincere when offered but he would honor his word. Though at his suggestion she accompany him on the fitting, she suppressed a shudder, the last thing she wanted was to wait on another person as they tried on clothing. In her mind, that activity ranked somewhere between getting clubbed over the head and hiking in wet socks. She also had a suspicion that his destination would be the Lavish Hand and she did not want to run into Mr Chemaux again so soon. The inquisitive tailor appeared to be someone who could hold a secret but she didn’t want to risk returning in the company of a noble, let alone one that was preparing to attend the Syltumal masquerade.

There were a few arrangements however that she could see to before leaving the city, so she grabbed at his suggestion to part ways.

Now that you mention it, there is a book shop that I’d been meaning to visit," she said. It was the truth, there was a shop selling books on the outskirts, closer to the docks except she had no intention of purchasing anything. A black market fence also worked as a clerk in the store, making their services available to those in the know and she needed to have a word or two with them before leaving Liathildor.

It suits me just as well to travel on foot the few streets over to the shop and then we can meet up later.” Wynterleaf flashed him a quick smile, “Unless you plan on leaving the city as soon as my back is turned.” There was no inflection to the words to indicate she was either serious or teasing, she was simply curious to gauge Travion’s reaction at her suggestion he might be planning to leave her behind.


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Lassroyale
(@lassroyale)
Patron Saint of Hawtbois, Catboys, & BAMF Babes Noble
Joined: 11 months ago
Posts: 746
 

Lord Travion Winterlow

NPC of the Kingdom Bridgeways

╺ ✽ ╸ 

With a special guest appearance by Triggerfeet

 

╺ ✽ ╸ 

Travion's gaze went soft as he looked at Wynterleaf, hoping to assuage the sudden tension in her body language.  His hazel eyes were sincere, even as inwardly he cringed slightly at the argument that his parents were sure to have as soon as he broke the news to them that he was going to bring Wynterleaf to the Ball, no questions asked.  Really, they should know by now that they couldn’t truly control who he liaised with, and unlike Coel, Travion didn’t prefer the company of courtesans or Chevallier servants.  He liked to think he had something more real in the relationships he cultivated, or so he hoped.  

 

Regardless, he moved forward and took Wynterleaf’s hand, pressing a small, chaste kiss to her knuckles, lips gently brushing against the script branded upon the delicate skin.  “Milady Wynterleaf,” he said in a low murmur. “It shall be a great honor to have you on my arm at the Syltmaul’s ball.  I shall have a carriage pick you up the day of, and will meet you there.

 

With a smile Travion dropped her hand and turned to Triggerfeet, slipping his hand underneath the left saddle flap and the hidden pocket sewn there.  He tossed Wynterleaf the heavy gold ring that was emblazoned with the Winterlow family crest and inlaid with a shining red ruby.  He shrugged rather carelessly at her.  He always thought it rather silly how up in arms nobility got over things, over objects like family crests or pieces of jewelry.  So what if it had been in his family for generations? Triggerfeet meant far more to him than any family ring; to him, one was invaluable while the other could be replaced.  He nodded at the ring that Wynterleaf now held.

 

If you need to obtain any supplies or garments for the Ball or…otherwise,” and here Travion gave her a rather canny glance.  “Show them that ring and have it put onto my tab.  Any shopkeep or whatnot in the Foreign Quarter or The Sparkling Market will recognize my family crest.  They will also know that there is no way for you to have that ring, unless I handed it to you myself.”   If she chose to pawn his ring, well, he'd know what kind of person she was and how much her life was worth. Because if he didn't hire a court assassin, his family would.  Either way, it was truly no matter to him.

 

With another shrug, Travion swung up onto Triggerfeet and smiled at Wynter.  “Have a good evening, Milady. Thanks for indulging this noble with a drink and for sharing your interesting company.  I look forward to seeing you at the Ball.”  

Travion winked and then clicked his tongue.  With a clip-clop-click Triggerfeet bore Travion away down the main thoroughfare and towards The Lavish Hand

TOM-CAT: A Stab in the Dark - Pounce!(1/2) - Teleskela - Kiana Beach Battle(1/2/3) - My Prey - Botched Massacre(1/2) - Try Again - ★Powder Keg - Soft,soft - ★Stupid Little Tom-Cat - ★Miiya & Cat-Tom - Sparring(1/2) - Kidney Punch - ☆The Great Tipsu Hunt! - ☆Stolen Kiss - ☆Overwhelmed by Intimacy - Returning to Her - ★Bath Time Bonding - ☆Wings, Tails, & Love - ☆Cave Storms - Climbing the Walls - ★1st Kiss - ★Makeouts & Memories - ★Laughter & Kisses - Eros & Hormones -Cat-Tom: Rescue Kitty! - Cat-Tom vs. Skaven - ☆(Forced) Shift Back - 9-1 Lives - ★A Beast in the Darkness - ☆Bored Nihilism - Cat vs. Dragon - ★Emotionally Exhausted Bath - Catboy, Interrupted - All For Her - ☆Bellissimo Gato
───────────
DAETH: Breaking Callon - Pleasure w/Pain - Sensing Death - ★Kissing Fate(1/2) - Precariously Balanced Nature - At Long Last, Eddellyn - Soul Searching - Into the Maze - ★The Minotaur & The Labyrinth - Heart of the Maze - Before the Storm - Thunder & Honey - ★Ripped Gowns - ★Sensual Poetry - Warding Sigils - Hedonistic Filth & House-Sized Party Crasher - Confronting Maarazaar(1/2/3) - Ash Bunny Irihi
───────────
RISQUÉ: Fun with Fisticuffs!
[Chatte]Enter Chatte - Chat w/Castor -Proposing the Race
──────────────────
[ ☆ = favorite / ★= extra fave]


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Wynterleaf
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Eddellyn Wynterleaf

Wynterleaf reflexively caught the object Travion tossed to her and opened her palm to glance down at the sparkling gold signet ring with no small amount of surprise. It was a valuable object, not only for the precious metal but the power it signified and not something that should have been handed over lightly, especially not to a person after spending a few hours in their company. She couldn’t decide if the elvish lord was naïve or that trusting of her person, but she doubted any merchant in the district would believe she came by the ring by honest means, no matter her explanations. There would be little sense in using it as Travion suggested but she nonetheless appreciated the gesture he made by leaving it in her possession for the day. Worst case, if things took a turn for the unexpected before she saw him again, she might be able to use it as leverage or as proof of her invitation to the Bridgeways by a fellow noble. Slipping the ring into a secure pouch close to her person, she waved goodbye to Travion.

My thanks to you, my lord, for everything. Until the ball.

She waited as Travion and Triggerfeet disappeared from sight before she left the Tree & Tankard yard herself and headed in the opposite direction toward the bookshop she had mentioned. The route she picked was indirect, not out of worry of being followed but the afternoon was pleasant and she wanted to familiarize herself a bit more with this part of Liathlidor

In time, she made her way to the bookshop that doubled as a front for the local thieves guild and idly perused the shelves until the last patron inside the establishment left. She moved nearer to the clerk, an unassuming Uman of average height dressed in shades of brown, and discreetly signaled she needed to talk ‘business’. With an imperceptible nod of understanding, the Uman motioned her to a back corner of the shop, farthest from the door, where they quickly spoke in whispered words.

Her foremost request was the need to have her gear smuggled onto the Syltamul Estate; the gown she had received from Vincen wouldn’t conceal her weapons or pack - she wasn’t even confident it would conceal her as much as she'd want it to. So, her belongings would need to be smuggled inside discreetly and stashed somewhere on the grounds. Fortunately, the thief alias clerk knew someone among the Syltamul servants that they trusted to see that the items were taken into the estate and put in a place she could easily access. All she need do was have her gear bundled and ready for pickup before dawn and when she arrived at the masquerade, someone would let her know where it was stored.

Satisfied that she would have access to her weapons and clothes, she spent a couple of minutes making general inquiries about the Syltamuls and other nobles of the Bridgeways, including Travion and his family, wanting to have some knowledge of the people she would meet and what she was about to walk into. It was no surprise that they were all quite well known in Ufaeria or that the event was and would be talked about in every social circle. But in the end, she didn’t learn much more than what Vincen had already told her; however, before she left the clerk did impart a word of caution about the elven nobles hosting the masquerade. They warned that the most dangerous weapon in the Syltamul's arsenal was that of influence but neither would they shy away from more physical weapons. She thanked the clerk and handed over a few more precious gold krownes and with a promise to revisit the next time she was in Liathlidor, she left the shop quietly.

As she stepped out onto the street, in the distance, the evening hour was marked by a bell and Wynterleaf began to retrace her steps to the Tree and Tankard.

 


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