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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Bob Aberton" data-source="post: 317194" data-attributes="member: 1518">DISCLAIMER:This is not a *BUMP*This is an update.So rest easy, Horacio<img src="https://cdn.jsdelivr.net/joypixels/assets/8.0/png/unicode/64/1f61b.png" class="smilie smilie--emoji" loading="lazy" width="64" height="64" alt=":p" title="Stick out tongue    :p"  data-smilie="7"data-shortname=":p" /> Early the next morning, the clamor of the common room during breakfast time was silenced when a full contingent of Soldiers of the Watch, Lord Meiron's own trusted bodyguard, marched in, armor polished and weapons gleaming.  More than one shady or disreputable person drew an anxious breath, fearing the grim-faced soldiers had learned of their own dark deeds, and that they were bound for the gallows.  More than one bold, drunken ruffian reached for a hidden blade, thinking a fight was nigh.  More than one honest man in the early morning crowd breathed easier, now that The Law was here to protect them from the rogues and knaves readily apparent.  But the men-at-arms strode right through the tense atmosphere of the common room and up to the bar."Wench!" the head man-at-arms called rudely, rapping the end of his spear against the tavern floor."Here, now! I'm no wench," the barkeep said, drawing herself up indignantly.  "I'm good an' honest woman, an' the owner of this fine inn to boot!  You would do well to be a little more polite, you would." "Do not be impudent with me, woman," the soldier warned.  "I am Ellis Millworth, an Officer of the Watch, and I can have that saucy tongue cut from your mouth like that!" He rapped his spear haft against the floor again.  The barkeep was not intimidated."I don't care what you are, y'can't go threatening an honest woman.  I've done no wrong, an' every man in this common room'll stand with me," she said stoutly.The tension in the air increased a hundredfold.  Neither the barkeep nor the man-at-arms would back down.  Many a piece of tavern scum clenched his ale-mug a little tighter, or reached for a blade or cudgel.  It appeared that there would be blood shed soon if the tension was not broken.The tension was broken by a woman descending the stairs.  Not just any woman, though.  She was tall and graceful, descending the stairs with an ethereal grace.  She wore a long black robe studded with gold stars and crescent moons.  Her auburn hair, contrasting with the black of her garments like a long river of flame, was swept back to show   pointed ears.  Her eyes were those of a Fey: ever-changing, measureless, and knowing.  In the cupped palm of one hand she held a luminous crystal ball.  And around her neck hung a live Coal on a golden string.  Flanking her were two tall men in green robes, one tall and slender, the other tall and burly.  The sleeves of their robes were rolled up to the elbow, showing clearly the blue serpent tattoos that coiled up their forearms.  "I am Sindell the Portent, a Seeress of great power.  I believe you are looking for me?" she said, in calm, measured tones."Yes," the officer said shortly."Yes...what?" Nystyra/Sindell asked archly.  She cupped one hand around the live Coal at her throat and muttered a word under her breath.Suddenly, in the previously still air of the common room, the air began to stir.  Candles flickered and dust motes spun dizzily.  The common room fell more silent, if it was possible, than it had when the soldiers had first walked in.  There was then a steady breeze in the room, still building stronger.  Nystyra's hair and flowing robes swirled about her, and her eyes flashed commandingly.  She drew herself up and looked threateningly at the poor Officer, who was by then quaking in his boots."Yes...m'lady," he quavered.  The powerful looking Witch before him calmed visibly, and the breeze died.  The air returned to its previous stillness, and the common room resumed its previous chatter.  In a dark corner of the common room, a tall, red-haired man watched the scene with interest, fingering a wicked-looking dagger.  When the Witch was escorted out of the inn, he waited until a prudent length of time had passed, then got up and followed.If Nystyra had been confident after her encounter with the officer in the inn, her confidence dissipated soon after she was taken to see Lord Meiron.He did not look imposing at all.  A short, thin man, whose appearance conjured up images of weasels and rats and other crawling vermin, he was dressed foppishly, almost effeminately.His long wine colored overcoat hung down so far that it might have been considered a dress.  It was trimmed with ermine and black lace.  His hose was also made of black lace, and hugged his legs scandalously tightly.  His breeches were so short as to be almost invisible.  He wore a huge, curling, pink-tinted wig, and far too much makeup.  His face was powdered and his lips rouged, like a woman's.  He had an enormous false beauty-spot glued to his cheek.  He was enveloped in a miasma of perfume.  He spoke with an effeminate lisp, and his voice was barely low enough to be considered an alto.One wouldn't think, from looking at him, that this perfumed, feminine personage could possibly concieve to be threatenening.  Somehow, however, he managed it."You are the Witch, Sindell the Portent?" he asked, looking up from his desk.  "You should know that many other, ah, 'Witches' have passed through here.  They have all been charlatans, and end up on the gallows - or the rack.  I do so hope that you are a genuine Witch, Witch.  The gallows and rack are both...hmm...wearing out from overuse."Nystyra decided to try to bluff.  Clutching her Coal, she invoked a minor prestidigitation, a category of spells used for countless small tricks and tasks.  Just as back in the inn, the air began to swirl.  She drew herself up commandingly, calling on her Fey blood to show its power.Lord Meiron merely laughed."When you are done with the child's tricks, 'Witch,' perhaps we may, ah, return to more serious business, hmm?" he said, sniffing delicately into a huge silk handkerchief. Nystyra merely sat their for a second, trying to compose herself.  She considered herself a fairly accomplished liar, having for years lied to Adrin about why she had not done this little task, or that bit of research, or why exactly was she robbing the pantry at midnight?  Adrin had not often seen through her lies, and Nystyra gave her Fey blood some credit for that.  Lord Meiron was going to be very dangerous indeed.****************************************************The update was going to be longer, but my storyhour was slipping, and I can't bump my own storyhour<img src="https://cdn.jsdelivr.net/joypixels/assets/8.0/png/unicode/64/1f600.png" class="smilie smilie--emoji" loading="lazy" width="64" height="64" alt=":D" title="Big grin    :D"  data-smilie="8"data-shortname=":D" /> <img src="https://cdn.jsdelivr.net/joypixels/assets/8.0/png/unicode/64/1f61b.png" class="smilie smilie--emoji" loading="lazy" width="64" height="64" alt=":p" title="Stick out tongue    :p"  data-smilie="7"data-shortname=":p" /> Anyway, enjoy...</blockquote>

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