KOMANDIR (THE COMMANDER)

Chapter I: Defectors, Derelicts, and Despair

Every night, King Uthgar licks his chops.
Every night, we dine on meager slops.
Every night, King Uthgar counts his gold.
Every night, we sleep in bitter cold.
Every night, King Uthgar slakes his thirst.
Every night, we prepare for the worst.
Realm the First is our protector, sure,
But we in Realm the Second yearn for war!

In the midst of the burgeoning crowd in the streets at dusk, Tysya raised her dirt-smeared fist and shouted her support for the bard's words. Others did, too, and this was one of the only things that kept the beggar maid from being locked in a cell and sent to the work camps. She had been born and raised on the streets of Tvomyr, Capital of Realm the Second, and she knew how things worked. The brazen bard would be arrested unless he paid a sum of fifty gold to the guards that had been assigned to this quarter of the city from the First Realm, and since that bard did not have fifty gold, his only fate would be the dungeon. Tysya smiled bitterly as the bard begged for clemency.

How was it that so long ago, King Ustaf of the Second Realm had entered into this devil's bargain--payment for protection? He had sold his entire kingdom to his brother, or half-brother as the case was. Sure, Uthgar had the armies and the soldiers and the ships, but Ustaf had the manpower. He also had the ministers, the mages and the magistrates. Moneylenders, too, until they were all lured away by Uthgar to serve him and his Realm instead.

Tysya would have been lovely, and would have been married by now, if it hadn't been for her limp leg and perpetual state of unwashed fragrance. As it was, she was nothing but a mendicant, calling out "Pozhalst'!" for a copper coin or two. She knew the word pozhaluista had four syllables, not two, but the people from whom she begged could have cared less. In fact, they would have spit in her face if she'd said it correctly, calling her "high and mighty" for not sticking to the common vernacular of the streets.

From head to toe, she was filthy and ragged, with soot and grease marring her platinum hair. She had all her teeth, and her eyes were clear, but with so much grime she wouldn't even have been accepted by the local "peddler lady" as a prostitute. Her aroma consisted of two parts sweat, one part tears, and one part of unwashed female musk she tried to hide, to no avail.

"Voyna, voyna!" she cried hotly. "How I wish that war would come..."

Devlen walked along the streets of Tvomyr waiting for his next mission. He caught a slight glimpse of himself in a reflection of a dirty mirror. He could see his red hair moving with the wind that was blowing gently along the streets of the city. His missions required him to stay in the second realm instead of staying in the first realm with his family. But he didn't really much care, just as long as a war could be prevented he would do what he had too.

Up ahead there was some kind of commotion. Devlen only sighed not wanting to be spotted by anyone. Everyday he had listened to the people of the second realm cry out in agony and pain. He could sense that war was flooding through they're veins, they wanted revenge on what they called they're oppressors. He walked into an ally way and took a seat by a pile of garbage. The smell of it was revolting, it made him gag slightly. He figured soon he should return to the room he was renting just for a good nights sleep, but he was curious of how the events up ahead would turn out.

He grew board waiting however and started to gently throw small pebbles he found along the street. He stopped when he accidentally hit a girl, he waived to her saying "Sorry"

Tysya winced as one of the pebbles stung her left cheek. "'Tis all right, good sir." She smiled, hoping he wouldn't come closer and catch a whiff of her. His windswept red hair...

...She had once had a friend, a girl she called Lanna, who had the same kind of red hair. Lanna had been stronger, hardier, more wiry than anyone she had ever known. Whereas Tysya was more skilled at begging, Lanna had been a thief. Tysya remembered the day when a small boy was walking down the main thoroughfare of Tvomyr, carrying a bag that jingled temptingly with the sound of rattling coins. Lanna sprung upon the boy and wrestled him to the ground, pinning his left behind his back and twisting, pulling...

"Are you going to stop bawling and give me all your money," Lanna had hissed, "or do I have to hurt you?" The boy kicked and cried, but Tysya's pickpocketing friend had not relented. Finally, she gave his arm one last hard yank and snatched up the coin sack.

When Tysya had felt her eyes fill with tears, Lanna said, "D'ye want to eat, or what?"

...This one had a touch of Lanna in him, or so Tysya thought, remembering once more.

Devlen sat there looking at the girl for several moments. She looked like she might cry or something, and that played on his heart a little. Devlen by a fault was compassionate by nature, even though he was also a brutal killer if the situation required it. He stood up, and slide his thumbs under the wieghst band and walked over to the girl. Devlen squatted down by the girl and looked at her. She was covered in dirt which covered most of her features, it was a shame that these people had to live like this.

"I'm sorry about the pebble. So I was wondering if you had a place to stay for the night? besides the street that is" he said to her his face showing little to no emotion, his voice sounding flat and boring.

"Nay," replied Tysya. "If I had a place of my own, I would offer it to ye for the night, but we beggars find cold comfort on the cobblestones when it comes time to bed down. If ye have any money, or at least more than a few copper coins, you can try the Drunken Swine Inn, where my compatriots here in Tvomyr console themselves with ale and wine. I've never been able to afford a full night's rent, though I suspect it's because I do not see eye to eye with the landlady. She hates beggars like me, preferring even tarts and thieves. Beggars, she says, are nothing but leeches, and that's that." Tysya sighed.

Devlen grinned a little "I already have a place, better then the Drunken Swine Inn. I will allow you to use my room for as long as you like as my apologies for the pebble. Though you'd be sharing it with me."

Devlen stood up and started to walk to The Modern Elk. The place had a room which the first realm was renting for Devlen's use while he did his undercover work. He wasn't sure why he was being so particularly nice over a pebble but he didn't like having guilt on his conscious this was his way of making sure it wouldn't come back in the future.

"You'd be so generous, milord? With the way I smell, and the way I look?"

Part of Tysya sensed his kindness; the other part smelled a rat. If there was anything that she had learned from Lanna, it was to trust no one, or almost no one. Lanna had been one of her only friends as a child, as she hadn't gone on calling her "lame-leg" as most of the other street urchins had. There was just something about her red hair, a mass of curls, and her freckles, and her green eyes that sparkled like emeralds...

No matter. She had no emeralds, but at least she had a roof over her head for now.

The Modern Elk was a palace compared to the stinking, smoke-filled barroom of the Drunken Swine Inn, and the patrons there were a sight better-looking! At their first glance of her, most of them turned their heads away, and many held their noses. Once, Tysya had heard a rumor that they used something called 'soap' to clean themselves up, but you had to pay for that, and if the money you earned bought your daily bread...The fireplace glowed warm, and Tysya wished to sit by it, but there was already a crowd.

"Stinking, filthy bastards," she heard someone by the fireplace grunt. "First-bred swine."

It was a good thing the man was staring at the fire, or he'd have serious trouble ahead.

A man leaning against the wall at the Modern Elk overheard Tysya's comment about the First Realm people in the tavern, and decided to speak with her. "Something I know all too well. I hail from their homeland, but I have no love for it. The way they treat your people is simply wrong, but when I tell them that, they respond with threats and scorn. My name's Curudir, by the way, but don't tell those soldiers that." He said to her. "They still want my head for what I've done, what I've done for your people. Perhaps I could buy you an ale?" He still wondering if entering an in with First Realm soldiers was such a good idea. If they knew who he was, his one-man stand against his homeland would be over real quick.

A flurry of anger ran through Devlen when he heard the remark of his guest. Quickly he ran over and grabbed the man by the back of his head and smashed it into the fireplace stone. He dug his nails into the back of the mans skull as he hissed into the mans ear.

"That girl is my guest you treat her with respect. Or you'll find yourself with out a head." he whispered to the man as he threw him to the ground.

Devlen walked over to the girl and grabbed her by the hand. He started walking to the stairs with her in tow. He slowly his pace down noticing that she was having trouble keeping up. He was on the second floor third door down to the left. Once inside he pointed to his right saying "Thats the bathroom. Use it however you wish."

Devlen walked over to a near by arm chair and sank into it resting the back of his head upon the chair with his eyes closed. He ran through the events that took place down in the lobby. Why had he acted to drastically? He grinned a little wondering if maybe he was spending to much time in the second realm. Devlen wondered if maybe he should return to the first realm just to get his mind straight again.

Tysya had just witnessed one man, her mysterious benefactor, smash another man's skull into the stone of the fireplace. She could see a spatter of blood on a couple of the stones! Horrified, she bolted from the smelly "bathroom," which the common people called a privy, and ran down to the other man, who had offered to buy her an ale.

What on Earth could she use to stop the bleeding? Her own filthy rags? Hardly! Tysya called for help, and it wasn't long before a well-dressed lady walked over to them both. "Out of my way, filthy beggar," she said. "I'll take care of this." She shoved Tysya aside, causing the girl to stumble against the nearest table, and dabbed at the man's face. "Hmph!" she cried. "Talking to wretches like that is sure to land you in trouble, as has just happened." She smiled, her teeth glinting in the firelight. "My name is Maude."

Devlen heard the female rush out of the room and down the stairs. He stayed seated in the chair knowing full well why she ran like that. No doubt she was afraid of him, no doubt she'd leave and not come back. But he was to tired to chase after her, to tired to go and see if she was alright. But again something inside told him she ran because of him, the least he could do was go check on her.

He slowly stood up moaning slightly hearing his back pop in several locations. Walking out of the door he kept his back to it as he closed it shut and locked it. He stuck his hands in his pockets as he slowly walked down the stairs and rested against the door way. So far no real harm had come to the girl. Devlen figured it would be best if he stayed by the door and watch her just in case.

"I thank you, but I'm not the one at fault here. If you think I deserved that, just for talking to the people you so thoughtlessly oppress, then you're no better than him." Curudir replied, going over to the girl he had seen before. "I know that man you were with, and he is not to be trusted. If you want to see this oppression end, come with me." He told her, first making sure noone else was paying attention. "I was like him once, I know how he thinks. He looks down on you, and everyone like you, simply because you're from the Second Realm. He sees me as a threat, because I have the courage to speak out against them, and I was one of them. What is your name?"

Devlen moved closer to the woman he was trying to help and the strange man that was talking to her. The man looked familiar but he couldn't put a finger on it exactly. Devlen stayed in the shadows and listened to they're conversation. It was rather assuming to him and slightly annoying that this mysterious man thought he knew Devlen so well.

If this girl is smart she knows not to trust anyone, he thought to himself

He leaned against the wall staying hidden by the shadows watching them, thinking. Should he show himself and risk being killing by who ever this man was, or should he stay hidden. Devlen decided to stay hidden, if he was caught he was caught not much he could have done about that.

"My name is Tysya, milord," replied the frightened girl, still trying not to look the handsome stranger straight in the eye. It was forbidden for anyone of the Second Realm to employ such a direct gaze with anyone in the First Realm. "That is the only name I've e'er had, since I was a wee young lass. It means that I am one of thousands, sir, and why ye be taking so much trouble with me is something of a pleasant mystery!" She laughed. "I can feel the stares of the people here--perhaps I'll let you buy me that ale."

"Like I said before, I've from the First Realm, but I have no love for it. I've like to explain more, but this isn't the best place to discuss it. You don't have to look away from me, they can't tell I'm from the First Realm, and I don't care about their laws." Curudir told her. "Barkeep, two pints of your finest ale, please!" He then said to the bartender. "If we can go somewhere away the wandering ears of others, I can tell you more about myself, and why I want to help the Second Realm."

"Perhaps the garden I saw outside of this place would prove beautiful and quiet enough," Tysya replied. "I gather our fellows here at the Modern Elk don't take too kindly to beggar maids such as I. 'If you can't pay, then be on your way!' You can't believe how many times I have heard that, and have had to take my bread and water from rain gutters and rubbish piles. That's not the only reason why I reek, and it's not even the main one, but I suggest we take our ales somewhere where the air is far more fresh."

As they walked outside to the garden near the Modern Elk, Tysya gazed up at the moonless night. "I was not there," she said, "when Uthgar betrayed his half-brother by offering him a bargain that even a demon would forgo. Ustaf knew he had the people with money and magic, but his half-brother had the men with might. Never trust a man who shakes hands and drinks on a deal that leaves you the weaker party!" Tysya scoffed and thought of striking a nearby tree with her fist. "Ah, Uthgar of the silver tongue and sharpened sword, the snake, the filth, the liar! You are wealthy, milord, and I can tell you have much skill in battle. Why do you want to betray the First Realm?"

Devlen followed them out of the Modern Elk, the girl in general seemed to be in no harm. In a way that was a relief to him, he wasn't sure why he wanted to watch over the girl, there was just something familiar about her. He walked down the ally, his thumbs hooked inside the waist of his pants. Memories were flooding into his head, things he wished to forget. The very reason why he took this job as an undercover agent.

The memory of his loves screams echoed through his skull. The sounds of him yelling trying to reach her, but his own people the very men he called friends, brothers held him back. Held him back and made him watch as the commanding officer beat her down, and destroyed anything that defined her. Then he was given the job to be undercover, Devlen never found out why they killed her, or why he was slightly exiled here. But he swore if he ever found his commander again he would make the man pay.

He lifted his hand to look into his palm and noticed that drops of water were falling upon his skin. The water was falling from his eyes, he was crying and pain and agony was trying to take over his heart. After that moment he closed off his heart, his feelings unwilling to feel anything like love or pain again. He let out a loud scream, and rage flurried through his body. Then he punched the wall, he continued to assault the wall allowing the stone to tear away at the flesh on his knuckles. Blood being left behind after every retraction of his fists against the wall.

"The First Realm was once an honourable place, before the Uthgar sold his brother out. There's nothing of that First Realm left. It's just a greedy, oppressive, imperialist dictatorship now. I'm not betraying the First Realm, I'm fighting to restore its honour. I'd be a traitor if I didn't oppose the monstrosity it has become. Though, the more I see what's left, the more I doubt it can be saved." Curudir explained, always checking to make sure noone was listening in.

Tysya dashed over to the man she'd met before, the one who had been flailing both of his fists against the wall of the Modern Elk inn. Had it been a fit of madness, a simple bout of ale-induced rage, or something more? Noticing the blood that was spilling over his long fingers and meaty knuckles, she tore the cleanest part of her ragged dress away and poured her mug of ale over the cloth. "This will hurt, milord, perhaps badly," Tysya announced as she began to scrub the wounds gently. The man gritted his teeth in pain.

"A thousand pardons," she said, "but I don't want the yellow ooze--or the flies--to get to you before an apothecary does. Come with me," she said, bringing her red-haired acquaintance over to Curudir. "Now. Are we going to work together, or is one of you in league with Realm the First?" She raised a coolly-appraising eyebrow. "I don't take kindly to traitors, and none of those who favor Uthgar will ever have a try with me, even if they want it!" She blushed, knowing she'd said too much. "I'm not a whore, but I am even less of a bootlicker of the guards that go around acting like lords over everyone."

Devlen looked at his knuckles and what the girl had done for him. He hadn't done anything to deserve her kindness, or anything along the lines of niceness. In face if anything she should resent his very existence, if was from the First Realm, the very place everyone here hated and despised including himself.

"I will not betray you" he said his voice showing no emotion "They've already destroyed me"

He didn't care if the other First Realmer attacked him and beat him to a pulp. At this moment in time he felt so empty, so dead he didn't much care about anything.

"I should get my weapon" he said as he turned to walk back into the modern elk "my room is a secure place"

"Watch your back," Tysya said. "This is the Second Realm. Men here want your blood."

She herself did not know why she was being so kind to this defector from the First Realm, or even if he would actually turn right back and betray herself and Curudir to the White Guard. That was the name that the knights from the First Realm were known by, the ones who were sent by Uthgar and his underlings to keep order in the Second Realm.

If those in Tvomyr hated Uthgar, they loathed the White Guard with a hatred beyond all hate. True, it was Uthgar who sent out the endless proclamations and edicts forbidding all normally-lawful activity to those of the Second Realm, but the White Guard made sure that those edicts and proclamations were carried out. If Uthgar was the head, the White Guard were the fists, with their many, many knuckles, their armored men who thirsted for blood. One of them was passing by, his suit of platemail glowing in the late dusk.

"Hey, beggar wretch!" he called out, spitting on the ground. "Pay your respects and wash!" He meant that Tysya should not have been so filthy in the presence of men such as Curudir and Devlen, who had gone back inside the inn. "I can smell you from here!"

"A true soldier would wash me," Tysya cried, "and scrub off the stench of injustice!"

Devlen walked into his room and picked up his sword. It was unique from all the others swords the White Guard used. In a way it was his way of showing his defiance the best he could, while he was undercover and working for them. The hilt was pure black with gold trim creating a bird flying to the top. The blade was a blueish silver color with some kind of inscription he couldn't make out. The sheath was black as the night sky with gold plates on the top and bottom. The belt was brown with silver buckles.

Devlen buckle it to his waist,moving it to a comfortable position and sighed. Then he heard something faintly through the window of his room. He walked over to the window and opened it to see white guards harassing Tysya. He gritted his teeth, to interfere meant they could possible killing some one else he cared about. But standing here and just watch them berate her like that was sickening to him.

He stood on the windows ledge, took a deep breath in and jumped from the second floor down to the ground. His body vibrated at the landing. The impact with the ground made his legs feel a slight pain in his joints. Slowly he stood up and glared at the soldiers revealing his left dark green eye and his right light blue eye.

"What do you think your doing?" he growled at the guards.

Curudir couldn't stand idly by while the White Guards attacked her. An attack like this, or at least being given the orders to commit one, was what had driven him to defect in the first place. "Leave her alone, or you will have me to deal with, and you do not want that." He said to them, drawing his greatsword. He knew they would recognise it, and draw their attention away from Tysya.

After realising his ultimatum had proven ineffective, he simply stated, "Have it your way then." before slamming the end of the hilt into the White Guard's head, kicking him in the chest, and kicking him in the head before he had a chance to go down from the first kick. "You alright?" He asked Tysya, extending his hand to her.

"Yes," she replied, a little out of breath. "Let's get out of here, before anyone else sees us. This is one of the better quarters of Tvomyr, and the richer you are in the Second Realm, the more you are likely to kill someone, even a harmless-looking beggar who might steal your treasure--or even your loaf of daily bread. It's every man for himself, especially when ravenous predators like the White Guard are looking for any excuse to beat us or rob us blind as well." She motioned for the men to duck behind the wall with her. "Do either of you know a way back to the Nizhna--the Low Quarter--of the city?"

Devlen followed Tysya behind the wall. He kept his head down and his sword at his side. His hand was firmly placed on its hilt. He grinned a little realizing that he was now a traitor to his people for following the Tysya, but he didn't care. Now he would live a life by his rules, and he would bring what the First Realm deserved, complete destruction. Though something inside him stirred, knowing to fight a war was wrong and would only bring more pain. He didn't really understand why this feeling was stirring but he pushed it away and ignored it like he always had done before when he was ordered to kill someone for something pointless or trivial like for pure entertainment.

He had seen enough killing he had grown sick of it. But maybe if he helped the people of the Second Realm he could find some kind of inner peace that he's been searching for, for so long. Though right now he didn't really believed anything like that could be truly possible. He gripped the hilt tighter in his hands turning his knuckles pure white. He hated feelings, he hated emotions these were something he wished could be stripped from his body like his heart. He didn't need his heart to kill, only to feel and feeling wasn't something he wanted at all.

"This way. Come on." Curudir told her, taking her hand and quickly running from the scene of the crime. "I take it you've had run-ins with them before yourself?" He inquired.

Tysya nodded. "They like to pelt small stones at me, to see how fast I can run. One time, one of them tried to dump a bucket of dirty trough-water on me as he galloped by on his horse. I dodged it, clinging close to the wall, but that only made the guard laugh. They call me names, leering at me with their craven eyes, but I know I'm not what they want. Any time the White Guard can blacken my name or my spirit, they can, milord."

((Btw, i changed my last post just because it didn't really fit with anything that was said. I think i might have been hallucinating last night or something. Sorry, lol.))

Devlen shifted the belt of his sheath a little on his waist back to a comfortable position. He didn't like staying in one area to long, especially not after what had just happened. They would be hunted no doubt. And the First Realm wasn't known for there discrete search methods.

"Hey..." Devlen said in a whisper "Where the hell are we going now? We are going to need a place to hide for a while." he sounded angry and annoyed, which wasn't his intent. When he realized how he sounded he cast his face to the ground in shame. He didn't lift his head, calling himself an idiot, a pathetic fool inside his own head. This was something he was use to berating himself into emotional devastation, until once again he didn't feel a thing.

"The Nizhna will be safe enough," replied the beggar maid. "Even the White Guard fears to go there, considering it more foul than the foulest privy in the summertime. There was a plague a few years ago, and it spread through the Lower Quarter like wildfire. People said the place was cursed, especially the wealthier ones in the more fortified quarters of Tvomyr. I suggest that you unencumber yourselves, at least of your fancy armor," she said. "Keep your swords, for you might need them, but you resemble the White Guard."

Devlen looked at himself, he wasn't aware that he looked like a White Guard. This disguise got him into a lot of Second Realm rebellion factors to destroy them from the inside out. But this woman knew the second realm better then he did and he didn't want to stick around this area for to long.

"Know any place that has a change of clothes up for grabs?" he asked her his voice revealing little to no emotion in his words.

Tysya smiled. "The wealthy people can afford tailors, such as Goodwife Odezhda, who has a shop near the city docks. The poor rummage through piles of refuse and clothe themselves in whatever rags they can find. That's how I put my gown together!" She laughed bitterly. "Odezhda takes copper and silver, but anything fancier will cost you gold." She leaned in close to the two men. "She is blind. Her eyes are cloudy, like a storm on a summer day. She sews clothing through touch, and touch alone. Her eyes grew weak from sewing elaborate garments for the very few wealthy people of Tvomyr."

It sounded like going to a tailor would be a good way to get a change of clothes. He shifted a little in his outfit, he did like what he had on. Devlen looked at what he was wearing carefully deciding what he would keep. The sword was a definite keep, and along with his dark leather fingerless gloves. The thing about his gloves is that they traveled up his arms past his elbow a little. He liked the feeling of restriction, made him believe he was holding back his true potential which was something he never wanted to experience at all.

"Take us to where ever you think is the best place." He said to her "Ohh if you wouldn't mind calling me Devlen. milord or anything of that sort just doesn't really sit well with me." he said to her not meaning to offend her in any way.

"I don't wear armour in the first place. I'm agile enough without it to avoid most attacks, plus I can swing my sword faster." Curudir commented. On the other hand, a change of clothing could throw off the guards in their search for him. "And I'd prefer you stop calling me milord. I am your equal, as you are mine." He told Tysya. He always hated how everyone seemed to view the First Realm people as superior, when it was no better than the Second. Neither was perfect.

"Very well then, Devlen and Curudir," smiled Tysya. "Let us make haste and depart."

Goodwife Odezhda's tailor shop was indeed near the docks, in one of the wealthier quarters of the capitol of the Second Realm. When the old woman saw the three of them approaching, she smiled. "Ye are just in time to peruse my wares before I close!" When she saw the beggar maid, however, her smile quickly turned to a scowl. "Ye reek, girl!"

"I know," replied Tysya, "but this is the natural state of my existence, miss."

"Bah!" Odezhda cried. "Come in here, you two men, and you, maid, around to the back!"

Devlen followed behind the others as Goodwife Odezhda led them around her little tailor shop to the back. He was sure what to expect, he kept his hand on the hilt of his sword ready for battle at a moments notice. What he wanted was a change of clothes and get the hell out of here and some where safe where the three of them could talk about the events and what they would do now. The first realm would certainly rule them as murders and put a bounty on they're heads. Second Realm and First Realm a like would be hunting them down.

If Devlen knew anything about people, is that anyone could be bought, everything had a price, even life. Devlen looked passed the other two towards Goodwife.

"We wish to purchase clothes. We are in a slight hurry Ma'am." he said his voice unwilling to release any hint of his worry about the impending situation that will eventually befall them.

Curudir set a few gold coins on the counter, and stated, "A much as that'll pay for, in green and brown. On second thought, a bit less than what that'll pay for, and keep the change." He still had most of the money he made when he was a guard, and she needed it more than he did. It was profitable, but he seldom had reason to spend much at a time, and if he did, the guards might notice, and go after him.

After a good, long while, Odezhda emerged with some clothes--and one whom she'd helped to scrub clean in her steaming laundry kettle! The water had not been boiling hot, but with plenty of soap and a firm lathering, Tysya the beggar maid now looked like Tysya the princess--clad in a silk top and kirtle, with gold and platinum trim. At first glance when they emerged from behind the dressing curtains, all three of them appeared to be middle-class residents of Tvomyr, not too rich and not too poor.

"Perfect!" cried Tysya to the Goodwife. "Thank ye, and we'll be on our way now!"

Devlen tightened his belt to his sword while behind the curtains that made a room for him to change. He wasn't so fond of the clothes, but the fact that he was allowed to keep his sword and his gloves were pleasing to him. His shirt now a dark gray long sleeve with thin leather laces going down the arms loose shirt. The pants he was given were a little tighter then he'd like but they were still easy to move around in. The choice was from keeping his old boots or taking the new shoes supplied to him. With a shrug Devlen placed back on his own boots not wanting to break in a new pair.

As he emerged from behind the dressing curtain he caught a glimpse of Tysya and was stricken by her beauty. Devlen braught his hand up to his mouth and coughed walking over to the Goodwife. He gently took her hands, his finger tips feeling the coursness of her trade upon her hands. He slipped a few gold coins into her hand and smiled gently at her.

"I believe Silence is golden, don't you?" he said to Goodwife.

He turned and walked over to Tysya and Curudir wondering where they were going to head next.

"You look lovely." Curudir commented, eyeing up Tysya. Then, looking at Devlen, he added, "You too." Finally, he said to Goodwife, "You are truly a master at your art. Keep quiet about us, and we will make it worth your while." "We need to get moving, but I don't know what the plan is. I'm a rebel, yes, but I've been working alone, and not that successfully either. Tysya, do you have any ideas." He explained to Tysya and Devlen.

"I suggest we go to one of the inns in the Lower Quarter. It's called the Golden Dragon, and not only do they have cheap ale, but talk is cheap there as well." She lowered her voice to a whisper. "It's where we commoners go when we can't afford a roof over our heads otherwise, and where we discuss our plans to free ourselves of the First Realm."

(any chance of finding more people? Having run an RP with only one other person for over a year, I can say from experience that this could get quite boring otherwise)
"Good. If it helps at all, I still have the keys to some First Realm armories in the city. With a bit of stealth, it could really turn the tables against the First Realm." Curudir suggested, always careful to make sure noone else was listening.

((Any chance we could resurrect this RP? I'm willing to join.))