X
Xindaris
Guest
Original poster
The young noble sat at a table before the girl he'd been courting for the past few months or so. She was a commoner and orphan, but her beauty of appearance and character had taken him, and it was not uncommon in that town for people to marry up into more respectable families. She had said her name was Vern, but he preferred to call her Verna, finding the other name to be too unseemly for a girl as beautiful as her.
"My dear," he said, "We have been together for so long now..I want to know if you want this to last forever."
The girl gave a look of concern. "Well of course I would like this to last. Whatever do you have in mind?"
"Well, what I'm getting at is..would you like to be my wife?"
Verna thought for longer than seemed appropriate to the noble, and finally said, "Well, I--before I answer there's something you should know. But--I just want to be sure. Do you really love me?"
"Yes, of course I do."
"What if I..looked different? Would you still love me then?"
"Well," he said, not quite sure what she was getting at, "I mean to grow old with you, and love you all along the way..I imagine both of us will look very different by the end of that road."
"Well, then I suppose I should just tell you."
Within a half of a day from then Vern had been called a despicable witch numerous times, cast out of the city, and told never to return. As much as she would love to come back under a different name and appearance just to spite them, she never wanted to see that man again. He disgusted her; he was so shallow and self-serving. She didn't know what she'd ever seen in him.
They hadn't all been like that. Most of the people she'd loved in the past, in fact, had been very kind in their rejections. She could even call some of them friends if she needed to. But not that man. She hoped he never found love.
Once well out of the city, Vern had taken a form more suited to travel. A tall, male shape, with as much strength as he could manage and sharp teeth in case worse came to worst. And he had set out on the road, looking once again for that potion, and that special person.
That search now had led Vern to the city of Harvenne. It was a wonder to behold, he thought as he entered: An entire city under the earth. The buildings were carved right out of cave rocks, with magic-powered lamps lining the 'roof' of the city all over the place. He had heard that Harvenne had once, long ago, belonged to vampires--before the rebellion--and sometimes even now an old artifact or two from those days would surface and fetch a good price on whatever market it was taken to.
And it was no small town, but a true city; one could easily get lost in the snaking, winding endless tunnels, devoid of particularly distinct landmarks, yet the people who lived here knew it like the backs of their own hands. There were arrows painted on the walls every now and then pointing to the city's nearest exit, but that was hardly helpful to someone seeking something within the city itself.
Now Vern was in a form a little shorter, though no less strong, than his traveling one. His teeth were mostly back to human size, but for a few he'd left unusually sharp in an effort to make any event of him having to bite someone in self-defense still preserve his apparent normalness. There was no need to let everyone know of his true nature, after all.
He stopped in front of an alchemist's shop, looking at the various potions hanging on the racks. Fire breath, speed, strength, healing..all of them were basic, nothing advanced, nothing useful to Vern. Yet he found himself looking for a little while, just to be sure, watching to see if the owner perhaps kept more advanced potions in the back, or took special orders. He had been told time and again that a potion of the nature he desired would be extremely difficult to create, but he was sure someone would have the skills to make it.
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There was a shop deep in the recesses of Harvenne, whose door was marked with a simple symbol most would find innocuous. Yet a few knew of its meaning, the sort of people who dealt in secrets and obscure or sensitive knowledge. Such people only came to this place as a last resort, for its prices were quite steep, but when their own knowledge was too meager to sate the thirst of their customers for information, this was where they were sent. It didn't happen very often, but today was an unusual day for this irregular shop's owner.
The magic-powered artificial lamps went from a dim glow to a somewhat brighter one to indicate the dawning of a new day in the city. And the door of the shop with the symbol in front opened a crack, then the rest of the way. There stood an old woman, with fully white hair, covered in wrinkles and bent over her cane. She looked around at those present, her eyes practically shining with wisdom and knowledge.
"Hmph. Some people just can't take directions I see." She sighs a weary sigh. "Well, which one of you got here first?"
((OOC here))
"My dear," he said, "We have been together for so long now..I want to know if you want this to last forever."
The girl gave a look of concern. "Well of course I would like this to last. Whatever do you have in mind?"
"Well, what I'm getting at is..would you like to be my wife?"
Verna thought for longer than seemed appropriate to the noble, and finally said, "Well, I--before I answer there's something you should know. But--I just want to be sure. Do you really love me?"
"Yes, of course I do."
"What if I..looked different? Would you still love me then?"
"Well," he said, not quite sure what she was getting at, "I mean to grow old with you, and love you all along the way..I imagine both of us will look very different by the end of that road."
"Well, then I suppose I should just tell you."
Within a half of a day from then Vern had been called a despicable witch numerous times, cast out of the city, and told never to return. As much as she would love to come back under a different name and appearance just to spite them, she never wanted to see that man again. He disgusted her; he was so shallow and self-serving. She didn't know what she'd ever seen in him.
They hadn't all been like that. Most of the people she'd loved in the past, in fact, had been very kind in their rejections. She could even call some of them friends if she needed to. But not that man. She hoped he never found love.
Once well out of the city, Vern had taken a form more suited to travel. A tall, male shape, with as much strength as he could manage and sharp teeth in case worse came to worst. And he had set out on the road, looking once again for that potion, and that special person.
That search now had led Vern to the city of Harvenne. It was a wonder to behold, he thought as he entered: An entire city under the earth. The buildings were carved right out of cave rocks, with magic-powered lamps lining the 'roof' of the city all over the place. He had heard that Harvenne had once, long ago, belonged to vampires--before the rebellion--and sometimes even now an old artifact or two from those days would surface and fetch a good price on whatever market it was taken to.
And it was no small town, but a true city; one could easily get lost in the snaking, winding endless tunnels, devoid of particularly distinct landmarks, yet the people who lived here knew it like the backs of their own hands. There were arrows painted on the walls every now and then pointing to the city's nearest exit, but that was hardly helpful to someone seeking something within the city itself.
Now Vern was in a form a little shorter, though no less strong, than his traveling one. His teeth were mostly back to human size, but for a few he'd left unusually sharp in an effort to make any event of him having to bite someone in self-defense still preserve his apparent normalness. There was no need to let everyone know of his true nature, after all.
He stopped in front of an alchemist's shop, looking at the various potions hanging on the racks. Fire breath, speed, strength, healing..all of them were basic, nothing advanced, nothing useful to Vern. Yet he found himself looking for a little while, just to be sure, watching to see if the owner perhaps kept more advanced potions in the back, or took special orders. He had been told time and again that a potion of the nature he desired would be extremely difficult to create, but he was sure someone would have the skills to make it.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
There was a shop deep in the recesses of Harvenne, whose door was marked with a simple symbol most would find innocuous. Yet a few knew of its meaning, the sort of people who dealt in secrets and obscure or sensitive knowledge. Such people only came to this place as a last resort, for its prices were quite steep, but when their own knowledge was too meager to sate the thirst of their customers for information, this was where they were sent. It didn't happen very often, but today was an unusual day for this irregular shop's owner.
The magic-powered artificial lamps went from a dim glow to a somewhat brighter one to indicate the dawning of a new day in the city. And the door of the shop with the symbol in front opened a crack, then the rest of the way. There stood an old woman, with fully white hair, covered in wrinkles and bent over her cane. She looked around at those present, her eyes practically shining with wisdom and knowledge.
"Hmph. Some people just can't take directions I see." She sighs a weary sigh. "Well, which one of you got here first?"
((OOC here))