[open] a little less peace and quiet

[pterodactyl]

then i feel the frequencies of a ghost
and dark mighty knights chasing angel hosts
she's like a seraphic being, affecting me deep inside

The sleepy town of Aroughs rested peacefully in its bed. The dawn came and went, and the peasants rose to go about their chores. The nobles in their manors stretched and woke, slipping in soft slippers and silky robes to breakfast. Dogs and cats roamed the streets, but even they were quiet in the early morning hush.

One person didn't belong. She slunk quietly from one building to the next, her dark clothing blending in with the shadows as yet unreached by the sun. She was casing the place for a job she was on--the Hive wanted a noble killed for crossing them. Easy enough. The noble in question was known for his weakness for the common taverns; disguised and by night, he would waste quite a bit of gold on coarse alcohol and a little below average girls. Mia was far above average. No problem.

Taverns, even in Aroughs, did a wonderful business in Broddring. There was always someone there with a few crowns and an unquenchable thirst. Therefore, it went unnoticed when a small, pale girl with red hair and black clothing slipped into a dim watering hole known as The Green Dragon. Inside, the air was smoky and the lighting was dim. A couple of men, too drunk to even sit up properly, leered at her from a corner. Taking a seat with her back against a wall where she could watch the door, Mia Ambrylight settled down to wait.

{ muse } fair
{ notes } the green dragon is a bit of LOTR homage.
{ tags } none, but people should post and come help me kill this random guy!
{ listening to } stargate atlantis
{ words } 243

[Arizae]

This little town was utterly despicable and plain. The nobles slept as if the townsfolk could do whatever they pleased and it was utterly lacking in anyone that cared about the Voyage. Worse yet he was staying in this run down inn. It was the best he could find, well, at least the best with open rooms for someone arriving so late at night in a full town. Aroughs was experiencing an influx of people, all wanting a piece of that chalice, the chance to win gold and favor with the king. He would have better rooms tomorrow; he would be in the best inn tomorrow. Khael had sent several guards out earlier this morning for exactly that reason. Search out the best inn and secure the best room. Make sure they knew that this room would be for the Count of Tears, a man that should be known to have the authority of not only position, but good standing with Nyx. That and a small fortune to his name, and he was not greedy. No, just tired of this rat infested whole called the green dragon. What could be more offensive to an old soldier than a name like that? It was despicable.

Despite the late night he had been up before the sun. Such was his ritual. He must be pure of body, emotion, mind, and spirit. A calm morning with physical activity helped in such a pursuit. Strengthen the body, wake easy and begin the day anew, clear the mind and most importantly calm his spirit. There had been too much anger lately, and if he was to ever achieve true serenity he must reign it in. Khael felt calm as he prepared to enter the main area of the tavern for breakfast, they had no separate rooms simply unheard of! So he would dine with these commonfolk.

First his retinue of guards descended, four total, two preceded him into the room and quickly found a table for him to sit at well away from the stinking drunks. Absolutely filthy that they would be hear at this hour in the morning. Nyx damn them what pieces of filth. He made his way to the place they had chosen, and was satisfied. Khael could sit with his back to the wall and look out around the room. With a nod of acceptance towards the guards the saluted, fist to chest, and exited the inn to guard the front. The remaining two that had been flanking him stood at his sides, until he motioned them to be at ease and sit. They looked at him curiously, until he finally sighed.

“For Nyx sake men, this is Aroughs, find yourself a seat and eat. It is dead in here…”

He looked around the room, seeing the drunks…and one curiously bright looking girl that took in everything she saw. Well, perhaps she had the smell of experience and danger on her, but he was not worried. Perhaps she could help tell him where a better inn might be. Surely one of these had some marble in it? Were silk sheets too much to ask? The Count sighed once more, now fully aware of how soft he had grown since the war. The guards however, didn’t need further urging and sat at a separate table for themselves. Count Settic found himself grimacing at the table he was leaning on and very quickly putting his hands back in his lap and wiping off his black tunic from whatever grim was on its surface. Disgusting filthy place.

Words :: 838
Character :: Count Settic
Muse :: Okay, could’ve been better
Interaction :: Noticed her, but didn’t say anything. If you want he can be the noble or somehow lend a hand. Open to ideas, the guards can be gotten rid of.[/size]

[pterodactyl]

Mia was only partially paying attention when Sir Fancy and his entourage entered the Green Dragon. She'd gotten a mug off the bartender with a flirtatious wink, full of promises, and she was nursing that warm mug and huddling in her cloak when the door creaked open. A cold draft of sobering morning air swirled in. One of the drunks grumbled for the newcomers to "g'win er g'tout, dammit." The girl's green eyes watched Sir Fancy's disgusted expression as he took in the inn's filth. What'd he expect, a palace? There were, well, palaces for that. Sir sat, joined by his goons at another table. The old wooden chairs protested loudly against the men's weight as they relaxed.

The second thing Mia noticed was that Sir Fancy was looking at her. He probably wanted the usual, and although he looked like he could afford to pay extra, which she probably wouldn't object to, that wasn't her business here. If she knew more about him, she'd be better able to judge how he could do her job for her. At this point, Mia figured she had two options: act like a common body-for-hire and try to turn him against her target, or use what she'd dubbed the "poor duckling" strategy. She was petite enough and pale enough to pull it off, claiming in a hushed voice that so-and-so'd taken advantage of her: put something in her drink, etc. The nobler souls would get riled up and, if she could get them drunk enough, kill so-and-so. That trick had backfired more than once with men who thought that being used made her easy; they soon realized their mistake when they woke up, too late, to find a knife hilt sticking out of their chest.

This man, however, definitely looked like a noble. Whether his heart was clean was a different matter, but the only way for Mia to judge that was to speak to him. Chair legs grated across the flagstone floor as the redhead stood, the hood of her cloak falling to reveal her bright hair and pale face. Her features were already schooled into a safe, shy expression. Leaving the mug, still full, on the table, Mia tripped on light feet to Sir Fancy's table.

"Good morning, sir. A bit early to be taking a rest in here, unless you've been traveling through the night?" Her smooth voice made the words sound like a question. Any information was useful. "I don't think I recognize you from anywhere around here," Mia continued, fishing for a lead on Sir Fancy.

{ muse meh }
{ notes kinda crappy... }
{ tags settic, open }
{ listening to n/a }
{ words 428 }