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Message: <blockquote data-quote="PhoenixAsh" data-source="post: 3451946" data-attributes="member: 18230">This sounds very interesting!  I would like to throw my hat in the ring, with the intention of playing an elven bard:A busy, well-dressed young man loudly barters with a merchant at a stall selling dried fruits.  The man is young but a hard negotiator, he is after all a member of the Merchant’s Guild, and more savvy than most of the street vendors.  It isn’t long before he makes a bargain – sweet for him, somewhat sour for the proprietor of the stall.The young man’s assistants collect the bags of dried fruit while he allows himself a moment of satisfaction.  A moment interrupted by the appearance of a simple piece of parchment, parchment with his name scribed in flowing script on its surface, laying on the ground.  He reaches for it, but an unfelt wind seems to capture it and it floats away from him.  Following it, his eyes widen as it folds in on itself, impossibly taking shape as it darts back towards an alley on the unseen wind, forming itself into a bird.  Moving quickly after it now, the paper bird lands on a delicate, gloved hand outstretched from the alley.  The hand clasps the bird tightly and it disappears – an illusion.From the alley steps a slight figure with curly golden hair, her sky blue eyes sparkling with mischief.“Malinda,” the young man speaks her name with all the joy of meeting a tax collector.  “What are you doing here, this isn’t a good time for-““I am not here for the usual business,” she interrupts him, stepping close while her hand comes to rest on his arm.  Her eyes sparkle, but her pale expression turns serious, “Halmaro’s caravan-““No, Malinda!” the man objects – too loudly.  Shooting a look behind him, he presses the elven woman deeper into the alleyway.  “You have a good living her, and it will not be safe, Halmaro needs-““Translators,” she answers for him.  “I speak a half-dozen languages, and I can take care of myself.  I can use a blade and bow, and my music-““Would be a distraction, nothing more,” he turns to leave.“A distraction.  Is that what I am?” she says softly, a faintly discerned tremor in her voice tugs on the heartstrings of the normally callous merchant, giving him pause.“That is not what I meant.  Of course you would be useful-““Then let me come!  There… there is no more inspiration to be found, cloistered in the Commonwealth.  I need more,” she pleads.The young man turns back to face her, “If I do this-““All debts between us are settled,” she smiles.  The young merchant’s shoulders slump, defeated.</blockquote>

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