"Let's-...not do that again, please,"
Following Charlie's swift exit from her seat behind him, Aros swung his left leg over the beast's neck, and gently lifted himself off the saddle and onto the cool grass below. With a bemused smirk, he met her gaze. However, where he would've poked fun at the fact that a werewolf could be done in by a fear of heights, he was subtly distracted by the magical sensibilities of his birthright. Almost imperceptibly, the air had changed around them on their descent, and yet Aros had been still blind to it until the moment he touched the ground. A cool, afternoon breeze lifted his tousled bangs from his brow, and as if by design his eyes suddenly became aware of one of the most beautiful constructs he had ever seen.
"My gods... its even more grand from the ground..." Aros's words were soft, and more to himself than anyone else. Suddenly, he began to forget about the strange change in the air--the feeling of weightlessness on his skin--and instead felt himself indescribably allured towards the ancient sanctum nestled in the mountains. The Eternal Sanctum appeared to have been built out of the hills from its position at the base of the mountain range. The craftsmanship was--as far as he could tell from where he stood--neither elven, nor human. Not much learned on the architecture of mountain species, nor on the history of the region, Aros could not place the origin of the place. Truly, it was the most unique temple--or perhaps palace?--that Aros had ever seen. The entrance was not several hundred feet ahead, and the two adventurers had but to cross a bridge to reach it. Aros grabbed hold of his beast's reigns and led it towards the bridge, which had several marble posts standing errant at its base.
Tying the reigns tightly to the post, Aros gave his beast a pat on its dark grey snout, and made sure that there was enough length in the reigns to give his beast enough room to reach the creek under the bridge itself. The grass appeared untouched at his feet, and was far longer and fuller than any he had seen around the city. He had no doubt his pet would be well fed and watered should it wish to be.
"Alright boy. We won't be too long... well I hope not." The beast whinnied in response, and stamped its front hooves several times into the soft turf. Aros gave the creature a suspect look, and said, "Don't get antsy my friend. I'm just as eager as you to get back in the air, trust me. If nothing else, be assured I'm going to be dreaming of your beautiful wings..." Aros ran his hands through the glossy black feathers as he spoke. "And I promise to snag you a piece of treasure or two inside as well. Ha-HA!" Aros, invigorated by the thought of immense wealth, beckoned to Charlie with one hand, and said, "Come now Charlie, we have bounty to collect, and secrets to discover, or my name isn't Aros the mighty! Neigh, Aros the fortuitous! Ha-ha-HA!" Ever eager, the elf turned to the bridge and began a slow jog across the weathered marble, not bothering to wait any longer for his air-sick companion who he imagined was hot on his heels.
***
Carla stood with arms folded, her fierce gaze locked with the scoundrel on the other end of the table. A smattering of cards and coin lay on the table in front of them. One of the thin, angled weasels gave her a toothless smile, and swept off the table all the coins--including her eighty pieces that she had earned on her last job. Carla winced, but otherwise remained emotionless: she had few vices, but gambling was perhaps her favorite, and also somewhat new to her. The gambling houses in Eastway came in two varieties: the ones above ground were for the less dangerous sort, and were primarily low-risk low-reward because of the generally poor economic state of their players. The ones below ground were a little different though. Most were invite-only, or belonged to specific gangs or guilds to make sure the money stayed within their circles at least. Carla was currently in a den known to some as the Gilded Handle, but to others as the worst possible place to spend their time and money. The sewers opened up into a large chamber--an old cistern some said--and just overlooking that deep drop was an old maintenance structure, which had since turned into the Gilded Handle.
The game she played was called Ambition, and was true to its name in structure: a group of at least six players would bet equal sums of money, and then every player would roll a set of two die. They would then take turns revealing their highest die, and the top four numbers would go to the next round. The bottom two would have their bets immediately forfeit, and have to withdraw. This continued a second time, eliminating two more players before culminating in a last duel of two. To the foolish, Ambition was a game based on the luck of the die. To everyone in the Gilded Handle, it was a game based on stealth: get away with dropping your own 'modified' dice in the cup, and the dealers would look the other way when accusations started flying.
Carla had just been outplayed by a one-eyed rat known as Fergdy, who snarled through his rotten gums at the girl. "Oy, don' cry me wittle pwincess. Throw in some one on one an' I might considah wepayment." The onlookers and other losers scoffed and sniggered at his suggestive remarks, and her unamused visage. "What? No wods for ol' Fer-" With blinding speed, Carla bounded over the table, and had Fergdy by the neck. Instantly, the guards drew their blades and all the gamblers in the room turned to watch the spectacle.
"Now Fergdy, you don't happen to have a cheat die up your sleeve do you? You know its poor practice to try and rob an assassin, right?" Carla's words were ice cold, and with her free hand, she ripped Fergdy's sleeve, and procured a set of die with perfect sixes on all sides. Even if the dealers were susceptible to persuasion, there was a limit to what cheaters could get away with. Clean evidence was clean evidence. "Tsk tsk. What a shame, Ferg." The guards moved to restrain Fergdy, who lashed out immediately after Carla released him. Suddenly, The room jumped to life: Fergdy's men drew their blades, and random thugs and murderers did so as well, sensing a bloodbath to come. Carla swept her eighty off the table, as well as twenty more to even it off. The rest of the bounty she grabbed in her hands and tossed into the air, much to the visible chagrin of the dealers who made one futile lunge to stop her from doing so. Chaos immediately ensued: people began dueling on the tables, while others scrambled over the floors for the stolen coin. All the while, Carla weaved her way to the ledge, and before the guards could snatch her, she leapt into the sewers below, regretting only for a minute what she new would be a less than pleasurable bath below.
