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 Post subject: Robyn Locke
PostPosted: Mar 8th, '10, 02:17 
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((This took me way too long to type up. Enjoy!))

Back straight, feet squared, elbow higher, concentrate, aim.
Robyn kept her eyes on the target, ignoring the strand of hair that had fallen into her face and was now tickling her nose. The sun had taken its rounds for the day and was now setting behind the archery range, causing her to squint in the evening light as she aligned her arrow with the red bullseye.
Allow for distance, don’t squeeze the arrow, release.
The arrow flew through the air, hitting the target with a satisfying “thunk.” Robyn lowered her bow, examining the pattern of arrows on the target. Two in the white, two in the black, two in the blue, two in the yellow, two in the red. A cluster of arrows in the middle may have been more impressive, but would have been less satisfying to her. She toyed with the idea of shooting another round before darkness forced her indoors.
“Lady Locke, I see you are as diligent as ever in your exercise.”
She tensed slightly, recognizing the voice before she turned to greet him with a pleasant smile on her face, “Sir Valen, I am afraid that you will have to satisfy yourself with merely calling me ‘Miss Locke.’ My family unfortunately does not possess such a title to label me as ‘lady.’
He leaned against one of the wooden posts supporting the pavilion at the edge of the range. A red tunic embroidered with gold thread brought out the richness of his dark hair and eyes, and a gem studded scabbard hung at his side. “I do wish you would dispense with the formalities, Miss Locke. I would much prefer to hear ‘Thomas’ from your lips rather than ‘Sir Valen.’” He graced her with what she was sure he considered a roguish grin.
Robyn bowed her head slightly, “That would be improper of me, Sir Valen. There would be talk to be heard if I began calling you ‘Thomas’ and you began calling me ‘Robyn.’”
“Is that so? I could continue calling you ‘Miss Locke,’ if you prefer. Would that suit you?”
“I’m afraid not. For if I began calling you ‘Thomas,’ I would have to allow you to call me ‘Robyn.’ You know that.” She unstrapped her arm guard, loosening the buckles that kept it bound. “Have you come to practice your hand at archery?”
Sir Valen pushed off from the column, passing her to stand in front of the target. “I have not.” He withdrew one of the arrows from the target, turning towards her, “Two out of ten. You have been practicing.”
“Indeed I have. Yet I am still not as good as I would like.” She glanced towards the setting sun, casting the sky in shades of pale pink and blue, “What brings you here, then?”
He tapped the arrow on the side of the target and then turned towards her, “Why the pleasure of your company, of course. I do believe we dine together tonight at your father’s house. Shouldn’t you be getting ready?” He glanced towards the gown she was wearing pointedly. Although proper for shooting, it was hardly something that would be allowed at a formal dinner. The light blue, cotton cloth would have to be traded for silk.
Robyn paused for a moment, measuring her response before replying, “You are right. It seems I’ve lost track of the time whilst out shooting. I should probably return home.” She bowed her head and turned to leave, her long skirts swishing against her ankles as she took a step away from Sir Valen. She felt a hand grab her wrist, smooth fingers unused to labor.
“Lady Robyn, wait.”
She turned towards him with a faint smile, “Sir Valen, did I not say that it is not…”
He held her gaze with his own, interrupting her words, “You could be if you wanted. You need only accept…”
She shook her head, quickly speaking before he could say more, “Sir Valen, you know my opinion on the matter.” She glanced towards his fingers still encircling her wrist, “Will you let go?”
He let his hand drop and Robyn took note of the anger that flashed across his face before his features smoothed once more. “I shall see you at dinner, nonetheless.”
She nodded, “You shall.” Her footsteps turned away from him, becoming faster as she left his sight

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"I see,"
said the blind man
to his deaf daughter.


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 Post subject: Re: Robyn Locke
PostPosted: Mar 8th, '10, 02:18 
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“Well I don’t see why the girl should refuse. You haven’t said anything to make her wary, have you?”
Mr. Locke sat in his favorite chair in his favorite room of the house. He liked the chair because it was imposing and gave him a sense of grandeur. He liked the room because it was secret from any listening ears.
“No, I have not. My advances have been nothing but gentlemanly from first to last.” Sir Valen leaned against one of the large bookcases which contained some of Mr. Locke’s favorite volumes. The boy had a tendency of behaving like some sort of rogue. Mr. Locke supposed Sir Valen did it to attract women, though why he needed to do it while speaking with him, he had no idea.
“Well I suppose she could merely be shy. My girl is a bit meek and such…one of the reasons why she would make you the perfect wife. She won’t make a peep when she finds out.”
Sir Valen let out a snort before replying, “Indeed, we’ve already discussed why it’s mutually beneficial.” He ran a hand over some of the books and Mr. Locke tensed. They were first editions, after all. Sir Valen didn’t need to be rubbing his grubby fingers over them, lord or no. “I assume the shipment is coming in as planned?”
Mr. Locke paused for a moment, his mind switching from the impending marriage of his daughter to his newest endeavor. “Ah, yes, the shipment.” He made a show of shuffling a few papers on his desk, mainly to make himself look more important, “It should be arriving on time if all goes according to plan.”
The young man nodded, his eyes drifting about the room before fixing on a portrait of a blonde, elven woman hanging on the wall. “You mean as long as our Archer doesn’t show up again.”
“Ah…indeed.” Mr. Locke felt a bit miffed. That archer had caused a great deal of trouble for him, delaying shipments and stopping them altogether at times. He partially suspected him of being an undercover agent for Solinar’s guards. But that didn’t mean Sir Valen needed to bring him up. After all, it was unlikely that the archer would be able to uncover the transport dates this time around. “I doubt we have much to worry about. I’ve also hired a few extra men to guard the…package.”
“Fair enough.” Sir Valen gestured towards the portrait, “Your late wife, I presume?”
Mr. Locke looked towards the portrait, “Yes, yes. Very lovely, isn’t she? It’s a pity that Robyn didn’t take after her in looks, but I suppose that’s partially my fault. She did inherit her mother’s wonderful nature, however.”
Sir Valen nodded, “I will leave everything to you, then.” He turned towards the door of the room.
“Of course, of course…I do hope my daughter with accept your proposal of marriage some time this week?”
The young man paused, one hand resting lightly on the doorknob, “It may be best that you remind her of her duties as a daughter.” With that he stepped from the room, leaving Mr. Locke to contemplate his perfect chair, perfect room, perfect books, and his intentions to mold his daughter to match the rest of his belongings.

_________________
"I see,"
said the blind man
to his deaf daughter.


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 Post subject: Re: Robyn Locke
PostPosted: Mar 8th, '10, 02:19 
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Robyn remained quiet, her hands folded in her lap as her father paced the room in front of her. His sparse hair looked disheveled, an obvious sign that he was worried.
“Why won’t you accept his proposal? Don’t you want to give me grandchildren? Don’t you want to inherit his title?”
She lowered her eyes to the silk cloth of her gown which shimmered green in the candlelight, “Indeed, father, I would like nothing better.” She strained to keep the sarcasm from her voice, “But I am afraid he doesn’t truly love me.”
Her father stopped pacing, and she felt his eyes upon her, “My dear Robyn, what would put such a thought into your head? You have admirable qualities that any man would be enamored by.”
She searched for an answer, something plausible before hitting on the one thing her father was sure to believe. “I am not as….handsome as some of the other ladies I have seen him with.” She added a bit of a tremor to her voice.
“Little Robyn,” he used his pet name for her, calling back the nostalgic days of her childhood. She momentarily felt her heart soften before he finished his sentence. “Why would you be concerned about that? There are ways to enhance your beauty. You do still have that necklace and those earrings I gave you, correct?” He was referring to the magically enchanted jewelry guaranteed to enhance anyone’s appearance tenfold.
She nodded meekly, “I do, father.” Robyn heard his footsteps shift towards the door of her room.
“Very good, then. I’ll expect you down for dinner in an hour.”
Robyn waited to hear him retreat down the stairs before lifting her head. She glanced towards Lucy, the maid who was assigned to help her prepare for the evening.
“Is everything ready?”
Lucy bobbed her head, “Yes’m. Everything is laid out.”
Robyn turned towards the mirror of her vanity, tracing the lines of her face with her eyes, “Good. This should certainly be a night to remember.”

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"I see,"
said the blind man
to his deaf daughter.


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 Post subject: Re: Robyn Locke
PostPosted: Mar 8th, '10, 02:20 
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The table was set adequately. The china was the finest available, no doubt imported from Zheradan, and the glasses were certainly genuine crystal. Gold plated cutlery would be used for the meal, and the centerpiece consisted of some of the rarest flowers to be found.
Sir Thomas Valen stifled a yawn. He hoped for a quick dinner before moving onto more pleasurable activities, which certainly did not include either Mr. Locke or his daughter. Perhaps he would visit some of his more favorite haunts. Then again, there was the shipment to worry about. He might just be present for its delivery.
One of the servants held out a chair for him and he took his seat, looking about the well furnished room. Robyn and Mr. Locke would join him shortly, he was sure. They wouldn’t want to keep him waiting. He tapped one, well-manicured nail against the silk table cloth. He didn’t like to be kept waiting.
The double doors leading into the dining room suddenly opened, revealing Mr. Locke. Sir Valen noted the richness of the man’s outfit, stretched over a badly concealed gut. He would never let himself become so portly in his old age. It was disgusting.
“Sir Valen! It seems you have gotten here before us. My daughter should join us shortly.” Mr. Locke sat down at the head of the table, leaning forward a bit, “Would you like some wine to begin with? Red or white?”
Sir Valen nodded, “I’ll have the red…year 3967 if you have it.”
“Of course, of course.” Mr. Locke snapped his fingers at one of the servants standing against the wall. The servant bowed and hurried from the room, presumably to fetch the bottle. “I hear from my daughter that you encountered her at the archery range today. Is she getting any better with her aim?”
Sir Valen gave Mr. Locke a wry smirk, “Better than she was. She was able to hit the bullseye two times out of ten.”
“Ah, good good. I can’t say I see the attraction of the sport, but she keeps it up for some fresh air and outdoor exercise, I suppose.”
“Indeed.” The conversation was already boring him. Sir Valen played with his dessert spoon, considering whether or not it would be too uncivilized if he balanced it on one finger. Better not, at least in this company.
The doors opened again. It was about time the wine got here. Perhaps getting himself drunk would makes things a bit more bearable. Sir Valen glanced towards the doors, and then had to stop himself from staring open mouthed.
It was Robyn. Certainly it was her, but she seemed far different than before. Her ordinary brown hair had somehow achieved a luster it had not before possessed. Her eyes seemed brighter and her complexion more even: her lips red, her cheeks rosy. The green silk gown she was wearing was cut to fit her form perfectly. A diamond necklace graced a…
Ah, the necklace. Sir Valen scrutinized it more closely, noticing how it flashed and glimmered unnaturally. That was the cause of her sudden transformation. He regained his composure as she took her seat. He should have been more wary. That being said, it was heartening to know she had such tricks in her wardrobe. He would have to persuade her to wear her jewels more often once they were married.
Robyn nodded politely, “Sir Valen, I trust I have not kept you waiting?”
“Not at all, Miss Locke.” He glanced towards the doors which finally admitted the servant with the wine. He motioned the boy over to pour him a glass. “Shall we begin?”

_________________
"I see,"
said the blind man
to his deaf daughter.


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 Post subject: Re: Robyn Locke
PostPosted: Mar 8th, '10, 02:21 
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Clouds skittered across the sky, blocking out moon and starlight by turns and casting darker gloom upon the figures travelling along the dirt road. A cart rocked back and forth, pulled by horses and flanked by guards.
The helmed men peered warily into the darkness, hands on their swords as they scanned the surrounding forest. Their employer was liable to kill them if they didn’t deliver the cargo safely.
Hoof beats suddenly sounded ahead of them on the path. One of the armed men in front raised a hand, signaling the cart to stop as the guards surrounded it, unsheathing their swords. When the rider came into view, the men visibly relaxed. The man in front, no doubt the leader, lifted the visor of his helmet and nodded to the horseman.
“Sir Valen, we didn’ expect you t’be here. I’m guessin’ you got a little anxious ‘bout the cargo, eh?”
Sir Valen dismounted, handing the reigns to the guard, “I did indeed. I wanted to make sure none of your lot messed up the delivery this time.”
“Eh…no ‘arm done. You’ll want to see ‘em, then? Fresh batch, this.”
“I do wish to see them….a fresh batch, you said?” The lord looked at the guard with a raised brow, “I do hope they’re not too fresh.”
A noise came from inside the covered cart, sounding a bit like a muffled sob. The guard shifted nervously and then responded, “Well…eh…very fresh, you could say.”
Sir Valen’s features became etched into a frown as he approached the cart, looking through one of the barred windows into the darkness within. Huddled figures met his sight, cowering away from his face. He turned on his heel and turned back towards the guard, “Fool! They’re no use to me like this. I asked for them to be dead, not alive. Kill them.”
The guard stumbled over his words, “But m’Lord, we…”
“No buts! I told you that once you secured them that they should be killed. The next shipment should be the live ones! I was sure that Mr. Locke told you the same. The palemasters…”
His sentence was interrupted by a shout from the trees, “If you like dead men so much, perhaps you should join them!”
Sir Valen turned quickly and the guards tensed once more, “Who said that, show yourself!”
Another voice sounded in the trees, leaves rustling, “Now why would we do that? We have you surrounded and in our sights! Leave the cart or we’ll shoot!”
The guarded mumbled but the lord raised his hand, murmuring, “They have to be bluffing.”
Another voice from a different direction, “You think us to be bluffing, eh? Why don’t you try us! There’s a special place in hell for those who sell people as sacrifices to palemasters!”
The guards shifted nervously, each glancing towards their captain and then to Sir Valen. “M’Lord, perhaps it’s best…it could be the archer…”
Yet another voice sounded, “We’ll give you to the count of ten! One! Two! Three!”
The guards began to back away and Sir Valen turned towards them, “You idiots, stay here!”
“Four! Five! Six! Seven!”
The guards turned and fled, leaving Sir Valen next to the cart, peering warily about in the darkness.
“Eight! Nine!”
He unsheathed his jeweled rapier, glancing furtively towards the cart. He suddenly felt cold steel pressed to his throat and stomach, arms wrapping around him from behind. A soft voice whispered in his ear, “Very careless, Sir Valen. You should know better than to come out after dark.”
He recognized the voice and froze, “Robyn?”
“Very astute. Do you want a prize?” The blade pressed closer to his throat.
Sir Valen quickly spoke, attempting to distract her, “How did you get all of those men in the forest to surround us?”
“Men?” She chuckled softly, “No men were involved. I just happen to have a very talented mage in my service. She was able to make the voices for me.”
“Robyn, this is all a big misunderstanding. We were merely…”
She interrupted him, “Merely buying slaves in order to kill them to provide fresh bodies to necromancers and palemasters? Using my father’s influence in trade and his money in order to conduct your scheme? Planning on marrying me in order to use my inheritance so that you wouldn’t need my father anymore? I know that you’ve already hired an assassin to get rid of him.”
He snarled back at her, “Your father is far from blameless.”
Another chuckle, “Oh, I do not doubt his guilt. He has as much blame as you do if not more. You do know that he killed my mother, don’t you? Of course you do. You helped him carry out the plan.”
“So then why not kill me now?” His hand inched towards the dagger strapped to his side. If he could only reach it…
“I have no wish to kill anyone, Sir Valen. But before this night is through, your wealth and your title will be worthless to you. You will be left with only yourself.”
He snatched the dagger, striking backwards. The girl jumped back with a laugh, sheathing the glowing swords and placing a hand on the door of the cart. Sir Valen eyed her warily.
She smiled at him from under a hood of green, “I suggest you go back to Solinar, Sir Valen.” She held up a bow, drawing an arrow backwards, “As good as your swordsmanship is, can you outrun an arrow?”
Sir Valen stared at her for a moment, disbelief washing over his face. This girl had ousted him. He glanced towards the bow for a moment, “Your aim is terrible. There’s only one chance in five that you’ll hit me.”
“On the contrary, my aim is very good. I assume you’re referring to my target practice.” She leveled her gaze at him, “I play a game when I shoot at a target. Sometimes I aim to get all of my arrows in a circle in the white, sometimes I try to hit every other ring. The game I was playing when you arrived was to hit every ring, two arrows each.”
Sir Valen stared at her for a moment, and then glanced towards the cart again.
She noticed his gaze and then jerked her head towards the road, “Run along. You won’t want to miss the show.”

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"I see,"
said the blind man
to his deaf daughter.


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Last edited by Archer14 on Mar 8th, '10, 04:23, edited 1 time in total.

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 Post subject: Re: Robyn Locke
PostPosted: Mar 8th, '10, 02:22 
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A fire lit up the sky, smoke thickening and choking the moon. Guards rushed about, attempting to douse the blaze with water as they shouted to one another.
“Do you know if anyone is inside?!” “No! They’ve all gotten out!”
Mr. Locke stood nearby in his nightclothes, eyes wide and wild as the flames leapt into the air. Sir Valen stood next to him, a look of disbelief coating his features.
A few hours later, the house smoldered. Charred wood and twisted metal were the only indications that a grand mansion had once stood there. Sir Valen placed a comforting hand on Mr. Locke’s shoulder, “I am sorry for your loss.”
Mr. Locke sighed, “Yes, yes…it is annoying.” He glanced towards the lord with a weak smile, “But I have funds to rebuild. It is no great misfortune.”
One of the guards who had tried to douse the fire walked over towards the pair, his face grim and streaked with ash. “Sir Valen?”
The lord nodded his head curtly, “That would be me. What is it, guardsman?”
“You are under arrest for arson and murder.”
Sir Valen’s eyes widened as two guards flanked him, tying his wrists together, “That’s impossible…how could you think…”
“A spell was placed around the house so that the fire could not spread nor be put out. We traced that spell back to you. You are also suspected for murder of the late Sylvania Locke.”
“I did no such thing! Unhand me!”
Mr. Locke quickly fumbled in the pocket of his robe, “Sir guard! How much is the bail? I can pay…just take this card to the bank…please…I’m sure there’s been some mistake.”
The guard looked sternly at Mr. Locke, but a small bit of pity broke over his face. He took the proffered paper and then glanced towards his subordinates. “Keep him here until I get back.”
The group waited in muted silence. Each of them glanced away from the others, lost in their own thoughts. It was only a few minutes before the guard’s return. He strode towards Mr. Locke, handing the card back to him.
“I’m sorry…the banker said there are no funds in your account.”
The man’s eyes bugged from his head and his voice came out in a squeak, “What do you mean no funds?”
The guard shook his head, “You apparently donated all of your money to several foundations for the poor…and to the orphanage. I commend you for your generosity, sir.” He whistled at the other guards, waving them forward, “Take Valen away.”
As the guards strode towards the jail with their prisoner, and as Mr. Locke stared blankly at his ruined house, a hooded figure watched from the shadows. Another moment, and the hooded figure was gone.

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"I see,"
said the blind man
to his deaf daughter.


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 Post subject: Re: Robyn Locke
PostPosted: Jul 5th, '10, 05:30 
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Stealing from the Rich: Part I

Robyn glanced about the small room, looking for anything else she may have missed. The bed had been neatly made, wrinkles smoothed and pillows fluffed. The dresser held nothing more than a few spare linens, shirts, a warmer cloak for when summer turned to winter and…ah yes. Robyn pulled open the drawer and reached inside, removing a small dagger from beneath the linens. It would have been a shame if she had left this behind. She carefully placed the blade within one of her leather boots.
She often used the room during her days off. The inn within the Myst Forest was cozy and yet secluded enough for her tastes. It was nice to be able to sleep in an actual bed every once in a while, especially when the weather turned sour.
She carefully stepped from her room, walking down wooden stairs to the tavern below. Music floated to her ears from a travelling bard while talk sounded all around her. A few select people waved at her in recognition. She was Robyn, the wandering ranger who had taken to guarding the nearby forest in order to earn her living. She wasn’t any different from the dozen or so other rangers who did the exact same thing.
Robyn nodded towards those who greeted her, bestowing a grin to a few as she made her way outside. The night air felt cool on her face, whispering between her hood and ears. Dry leaves crunched beneath her feet, releasing their earthy, spicy scent into the air. She checked her weapons briefly before continuing through the forest, trees thinning out until the crash of waves could be heard above the myriad of crickets. She stepped out upon the high cliffs, covered with spiny grasses and brush. She paused, glancing around before she spotted who she was looking for within the darkness by the shore.
It was a half-orc, that much was certain. Yet her stature was even more impressive than most. She towered above Robyn, muscles rippling under leather armor as quick eyes looked her over. She held a large staff in one, massive hand. Though to be honest, it was more like a log.
“So yoo came, pretty girl?”
Robyn hid a smirk beneath her hood, resisting the urge to comment on “pretty girl.” It was an old joke, but still amusing.
“As you can see, Joan, I’m here. I assume you’ve contacted the appropriate people? I would hate for our plans to fall flat at the last moment.”
Joan nodded briefly, “Everything iz good.”
“Then everything is settled. I assume you’ve contacted the…others?”
“Yus. Yoo need to talk to dem, though.”
“Of course, Joan.” Robyn reached beneath her cloak, taking out a worn pouch which she handed to the half-orc, “That should cover everything. Be sure to leave it all at the hideout.”
The half-orc grasped the pouch, weighing it in one hand before nodding, “Yus. It will be dere.”
“Then it seems I have some things to do, Joan. I’ll see you later.” With that, the hooded figure strode from the seaside and back into the forest, the green cloak disappearing within the darkness of the trees.

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to his deaf daughter.


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 Post subject: Re: Robyn Locke
PostPosted: Jul 5th, '10, 05:31 
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Stealing from the Rich: Part II

Groshnik was a good fighter, an amazing fighter, the best fighter around. He was proud of his large muscles and brutish face. It made him look more intimidating. The scars on his back and shoulders were a testament to all of the battles he had won. He carried the teeth of his enemies around his neck (some of them had been friends or even relatives).
All in all, he considered himself a fearsome orc who was climbing quickly in the ranks of his brethren. In a few months, he may even be in command of a score of other orcs…or have his head on a pike. Either or.
He had just gotten back from raiding a small farmhouse near Solinar. They had retrieved ten hens, thirty-two eggs, and one angry goat. The goat would be delicious. The other orcs that had accompanied him trotted next to him, looking up to him as their leader. That’s what they should do. He was the strongest, the best.
Distracted by his limited thoughts, Groshnik almost didn’t see the green hooded figure next to the road. In fact, the shaman had to tug on his massive biceps in order to get him to stop. How annoying. Groshnik didn’t like the shaman. He always pretended how much smarter he was than everyone else.
Groshnik debated whether or not he should decapitate the shaman (just for a moment, though!) before he turned his attention to the figure. It was small and puny- but most things were when compared to Groshnik. He gave a large snort, sniffing the air. An elf or human. He wasn’t sure.
“Whut yoo want leetle boy? Me smash yoo if yoo no move.” Groshnik was always the one for diplomacy. He was the smoothest talker around.
The hooded figure bowed its head before replying, “I know you’re just back from a raid…but I was told that there was a caravan coming through soon. It should have a lot of supplies that you might like.”
Groshnik scratched its head, considering the creature’s words before replying, “Whut?”
The puny figure became very still for a moment. Groshnik wondered if his mighty mightiness had scared it. But no, it spoke again.
“Good things in human caravan. You go stop caravan and get good stuff.”
Groshnik considered the creature’s words yet again. This was starting to sound interesting, “Where car-u-van?”
“Coming here soon. You wait.”
This seemed like an excellent suggestion. For a puny thing, it was pretty smart. Perhaps he would let it go without maiming it.
“Okay.”
The small thing nodded and then turned to go. Where was it going? Groshnik spoke up, “Where yoo go?”
It turned around, bobbing its head once, “I’m making sure the caravan comes, okay?”
“Okay.”
With that, the creature left and Groshnik waited for the caravan. He was so glad he had thought of the idea.

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"I see,"
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to his deaf daughter.


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 Post subject: Re: Robyn Locke
PostPosted: Jul 5th, '10, 05:32 
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Stealing from the Rich: Part III

“Oi! Get going! Don’t want to get behind schedule, eh?” Bert Conner shouted at the men loading the heavy crates onto his wagon. He didn’t usually join shipments on their ways to other locations, but this one was special. One of the nobles of Solinar had specially charged him with its delivery. He wasn’t about to let anyone get in the way of his sizeable payment.
He peered at the crates, trying to guess what was inside. Perhaps he would open one to see. He wouldn’t take anything, of course…he wouldn’t get paid if something was missing. But he always liked to look at the gold and gems that were usually within his employer’s crates. He derived pleasure from knowing that he was the one responsible for their safekeeping.
“C’mon now! Step lively!” He waved his men along before turning to peer along the docks of Solinar. Sailors and travelers of every sort called out to one another. Crates and barrels switched hands as messenger boys ran to fulfill their tasks. He nodded to a few women who walked along the dockside, corseted and done up with umbrellas to protect their fair skin from the sun, “Afternoon, ladies.”
A few of them giggled as they whispered to one another. They were a good looking lot, and ladies such as these didn’t usually venture into such a rough area. He gave them a gap toothed grin, “Enjoyin’ the sights?”
One of the women spoke up, butter blonde curls spilling past her shoulders and framing a face with hunter green eyes, “Depends what sights you mean, sir.” She gave him a coy smile before continuing, “Though I can’t say that I mind what I’ve seen so far.”
“Is that so?” Bert sucked in his gut as best he could and straightened up slightly, smoothing down his frumpy clothes with one hand, “So what can I do ya for, ladies?”
The blonde gestured with one small hand towards the ships, “We were wondering if we could find someone to tell us about the make and model of some of these vessels. My father is very interested in purchasing one, and my friends and I were hoping to find someone with a bit of…experience in the matter.” A few of the girls giggled again as the woman looked expectantly at Bert.
“Oh! Of course, ladies…of course. Let me just finish up here.” He turned to look at the men loading the crates onto the wagon, “Oi! Get those loaded and then shove off!” He quickly turned his attention back to the women with a leer, “So let’s be off to see the ships, eh?”
He led the girls around the shipyard, telling them what he knew as they tittered and giggled to one another. They turned and peered at the ships, exclaiming at their size or crying “how quaint!” when they saw some of the smaller ones.
All in all, Bert felt like he was on top of the world.
After giving the tour, the girls headed their separate ways. A petite brunette even bestowed a kiss upon his cheek. So it wasn’t surprising that Bert didn’t notice that the weight of the cart had changed. In fact, he noticed nothing out of the ordinary at all until several orcs attacked his cart, tearing open the crates and revealing the children’s toys within.



Robyn sat high in one of the trees in the forest, remaining as still as possible, curling herself in her green cloak as camouflage. The orcs had attacked the wagon, diverting the cart man’s attention from the real deception. Now he could say that his cargo was stolen by orcs…no blame would be placed elsewhere.
She shifted slightly on her perch, relieving the knot forming in her calf. She hadn’t accounted for the adventurers to help retrieve the cargo, but the outcome was still the same. They didn’t know who the real culprit was, and most likely the orcs would still be blamed. After all, isn’t it likely that they simply switched the cargo, or had someone directing them?
Her only worry was that the gold belonged to the Syndicate. She didn’t quite feel like poking that hornet’s nest…yet. But the deed was done; she couldn’t go back. Gold being illegally exported from Solinar was useful, and she wasn’t about to let it go so easily.
Robyn watched the cart slowly trundle away and watched the adventurers scatter. She waited a few minutes, and then climbed down the tree, landing softly on the forest floor. She glanced about for a moment before striding into thicker trees. It was time to see Joan.

_________________
"I see,"
said the blind man
to his deaf daughter.


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