40th Spring, 515 AV – East Street
In her brief time within her new home city she had witness the shifting tides of the social, political and economic spectrum. She had noted how opinions, strongly formed and loudly proclaimed, could be changed within a smattering of days with reasoned argument or misfortune of event. It was a powerful reflection to stumble upon in her idly Bells of thought – that the city and its populace reflected its setting. She wondered if that had been why Sunberth had, and now always would be, a haven for brutality and suffering. It had been a slave colony so they said, scores upon scores of years ago. Slaves to mages and more. Zeltiva, however, was a trading city. Built upon the foundation of mutual co-operation and a peace born of affluence. There was only one thing that opinion never seemed to change upon.
East Street...my my...so this is a dark part of this city is it? This is the whore dens and the rag tag misfits? I'm not sure whether I wish to cry or to laugh... she wondered to herself as she paced lazily down random avenues chosen for their promise based upon pure instinct.
She had chosen her least decent set of clothing for her jaunt, a wise precaution seeing as she was just having a look and pondering possibilities. Yet still she found herself better dressed than most, she had soft leather boots and many here seemed to have tattered ones about to fall to pieces. Work trousers and shirt accompanied by a leather vest and gloves, all covered over by her cloak, soft and silky as it slithered behind her movements. She had even adopted a rough bandanna of sorts, tied around her forehead to give the slight visual hint that she was a woman of the sea, broadsword at the ready for anything that might see her as a target. Still it was a better place than Sunberth despite the clear lack of trappings that the rest of Zeltiva possessed. A haven for villainy it was whispered yet so far she had seen little to suggest its rough reputation.
Eyes watch you, tongues waggle and small children run this way and that – message carriers probably. Used to do the same a time ago, decent turn for a child. But no refuse everywhere, cobbled streets, hardly the sniff of blood letting...this place wouldn't know brutal if it got hit by it. Or so it would seem... she continued her thoughts as she walked, hand upon the hilt of the sword and ears alert form anything sneaking up from behind.
Her gaze darted this way and that, wondering if it was all but a facade, a veneer of semi-respectability. Not as high in class as the rest of the city but enough that it seemed an ironic mockery of it, intentionally imitated whilst laughing at the fact it was a lie. Zeltiva was based as much upon reputation as it was upon anything else, perhaps there was a more outwardly thinking breed of larcenists in residence? Perhaps it was less about physically reminding someone of their obligations and more about tastefully coercing them into remembering all by themselves. A more dangerous breed than the conventional thug but well worth investing in if they could be tamed. Or bought. She could use ones such as that in a city where whispers could make or break. She had seen it first hand, had had her own reputation destroyed in Sunberth by them. She had been foolish then but no more.
If I am to get into anything close to a powerful postion, one from which I can protect us and perhaps more, then I will need inside information. And I damned well don't believe the rich layer at the top got there, and stay there, through luck and business alone. Not legal, strictly legal or evne remotely legal. Somewhere there are the hooks upon which catches can be made. But where? she mused.
“If I were a stylish rogue, confident in my position enough to quietly show it to others yet cautious enough to not get it stolen from me every day, where oh where would I be?” she whispered to herself as she ducked into a side alley and attempted a cut across to a wider avenue she remembered from her wanderings previously.
There had been businesses there, and all reputable scoundrels in Zeltiva appeared to have a trade – of one sort of another. Business seemed as decent a place to start as any.
In her brief time within her new home city she had witness the shifting tides of the social, political and economic spectrum. She had noted how opinions, strongly formed and loudly proclaimed, could be changed within a smattering of days with reasoned argument or misfortune of event. It was a powerful reflection to stumble upon in her idly Bells of thought – that the city and its populace reflected its setting. She wondered if that had been why Sunberth had, and now always would be, a haven for brutality and suffering. It had been a slave colony so they said, scores upon scores of years ago. Slaves to mages and more. Zeltiva, however, was a trading city. Built upon the foundation of mutual co-operation and a peace born of affluence. There was only one thing that opinion never seemed to change upon.
East Street...my my...so this is a dark part of this city is it? This is the whore dens and the rag tag misfits? I'm not sure whether I wish to cry or to laugh... she wondered to herself as she paced lazily down random avenues chosen for their promise based upon pure instinct.
She had chosen her least decent set of clothing for her jaunt, a wise precaution seeing as she was just having a look and pondering possibilities. Yet still she found herself better dressed than most, she had soft leather boots and many here seemed to have tattered ones about to fall to pieces. Work trousers and shirt accompanied by a leather vest and gloves, all covered over by her cloak, soft and silky as it slithered behind her movements. She had even adopted a rough bandanna of sorts, tied around her forehead to give the slight visual hint that she was a woman of the sea, broadsword at the ready for anything that might see her as a target. Still it was a better place than Sunberth despite the clear lack of trappings that the rest of Zeltiva possessed. A haven for villainy it was whispered yet so far she had seen little to suggest its rough reputation.
Eyes watch you, tongues waggle and small children run this way and that – message carriers probably. Used to do the same a time ago, decent turn for a child. But no refuse everywhere, cobbled streets, hardly the sniff of blood letting...this place wouldn't know brutal if it got hit by it. Or so it would seem... she continued her thoughts as she walked, hand upon the hilt of the sword and ears alert form anything sneaking up from behind.
Her gaze darted this way and that, wondering if it was all but a facade, a veneer of semi-respectability. Not as high in class as the rest of the city but enough that it seemed an ironic mockery of it, intentionally imitated whilst laughing at the fact it was a lie. Zeltiva was based as much upon reputation as it was upon anything else, perhaps there was a more outwardly thinking breed of larcenists in residence? Perhaps it was less about physically reminding someone of their obligations and more about tastefully coercing them into remembering all by themselves. A more dangerous breed than the conventional thug but well worth investing in if they could be tamed. Or bought. She could use ones such as that in a city where whispers could make or break. She had seen it first hand, had had her own reputation destroyed in Sunberth by them. She had been foolish then but no more.
If I am to get into anything close to a powerful postion, one from which I can protect us and perhaps more, then I will need inside information. And I damned well don't believe the rich layer at the top got there, and stay there, through luck and business alone. Not legal, strictly legal or evne remotely legal. Somewhere there are the hooks upon which catches can be made. But where? she mused.
“If I were a stylish rogue, confident in my position enough to quietly show it to others yet cautious enough to not get it stolen from me every day, where oh where would I be?” she whispered to herself as she ducked into a side alley and attempted a cut across to a wider avenue she remembered from her wanderings previously.
There had been businesses there, and all reputable scoundrels in Zeltiva appeared to have a trade – of one sort of another. Business seemed as decent a place to start as any.
