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Center of scholarly knowledge and shipwrighting, Zeltiva is a port city unlike any other in Mizahar. [Lore]

A Wolf and a Pup [Fallon]

Postby Keene Ward on September 20th, 2015, 12:18 am

The forty-sixth day of fall, 515 AV

He stood before the simple wooden door, eyes calmly regarding the metal plaque that read "Scarred Wolf Investigations Office". Though he had been told it was where the woman he was seeking had been seen, he had not stopped to consider that the Lady Redwolf had settled down into a business of any sort. She was a formidable woman, whether he aptitude for reimancy had been impressive or not, and though the evidence stared right back at Keene's vaugely clouded eyes, it was still odd to think that anyone with strength of mind and skill would essentially whore out time that might be better spent upon bettering one's self. The irony of his own situation with the Martial Society escaped him, but before he could think upon it any longer, Keene's leather bound knuckles rapped lightly against the firm wood of the door.

On the island, Fallon had requested his assistance with her magical training, something that had been disappointing for both parties, as far as Keene was concerned. Though typically, he would not have sought the woman out as she was an individual who was every bit his equal in her own way, if not more so, making her just as dangerous, Keene had realized only recently that those with whom he could discuss matters of the arcane had dwindled to Zulrav's winds and his own introspection. Though she had struggled with the most basic beginnings of a magic that had become second nature to him, the Lady Redwolf had demonstrated at the very least a basic knowledge of the Ancient Tongue. With his burgeoning work in the more scholarly school of glyphing, and even more recently, animation, Keene found himself lacking the refreshing opinion of another mind. Before, he had had Atziri, Risabel, Boswell, Mella... All little more than memory for what they were worth in the present.

The Lady Redwolf, however... She had shown enough promise that, though Keene wasn't quite certain whether his pursuit was wise or foolish (or even a combination of both), it was one of his better options. Noven was... The thought was pushed aside as Keene shook his head, letting his hand fall to his side, the hem of his cloak's sleeve falling to cover just above the tips of his fingers. The irrationality of his desires towards the caramel skinned, wonder of a man was too distracting for him to get any sort of work done. That, and Noven was more of a physical thinker. There were the students of the University, though, as Keene had discovered through only a few questions to those who were associated with it, the College of Djed was no more, and while he was certain there were those who studied the complexities of the Ancient Tongue, he doubted they would find his desired application of it to merit any assistance, if not hindrance. Thus, the Lady Redwolf was the best option given those he had access; the trident wielding Palaren never once crossing his mind as a potential candidate.

As he waited for either confirmation of the Lady Redwolf's presence within the room just beyond the door in question or for enough time to pass to suggest that, even if it were her headquarters as the plaque suggested, she was not in, Keene stared patiently at the blank face of the wood before him with all the intensity one might expect from looking into a mirror. His eyes traced the line of the grain, moving slowly along the various paths, his mind contemplating which hue was barrier and which was border, letting the ticks stretch on, submitting his case to the hand of fate to do with as it saw fit.
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A Wolf and a Pup [Fallon]

Postby Fallon on September 21st, 2015, 6:33 pm


There was a distinct smell of salt and sea water on the air, thicker than normal and clenching onto scent of fish - decaying or otherwise. It came on with the breeze, crawling through the crack in the open window and rolling across the office. Previously there had been nothing more than that of dust and stale air, locked in from a few days of cooler weather. Autumn was in fall force now, the season turbulent and the elements changing; but the requests and areas she was to look into stayed the same. Denval, Denvali, the Quarter, the city, and who would work against the city. Logs needed to be checked, resources studied, recent history and a gathering of her notes to piece together a tapestry of information - which is why she had a stack of notes piled next to her from various sources.

The hand moved the rough map of Zeltiva before her, the other leaning over to dip the quill into the ink vial. Smoothing it out she looked upon the map, her brow creasing as she gingerly began the process of drawing gingerly. A dotted line snaking down across the page where she vaguely remembered the part where the Denvali quarter started, meeting the coast line before she withdrew it. From there she moved it across, chewing upon her lip and doing the same once more - this time highlighting where East Street began. While it was not something she could describe as accurate, it was a start. With another dip of the quill she wrote beneath a collection of words;

Zeltiva Denvali Quarter: Rough highlighting of area in city along North edge, between Sailor's Quarter (West) and East Street (East). District is small in comparison to other areas of Zeltiva. Probably only houses a few hundred Denvali in total.

Lowering the quill, she reached forward towards the first collection of loose notes picking up the first few loose sheets. With a flicker through the pages she continued her scanning, picking out key words and systematically circling them. Elimination, what points had been repeated, what would be considered nothing more than useless - she doubted her client would want information on Denvali architecture, but living conditions was something completely different. Her hand fumbled towards one of her draws, opening it to drag forth a blank sheet of paper. Where would be the correct place to begin with this report? The beginning, of course. She gave a glance back to the paper, preparing herself to write before the distinct knocking cut through her thoughts.

Her entire form stopped, eyes peering up from beneath her brow and across the room. A guest? A visitor? A new potential client? Her writing tools were lowered, her form rising. Who would it be? Who would come to her door? A messenger perhaps? Her notes on the Denvali were gathered together, neatly stacked with the city map folded and placed alongside. Clear the mind, focus on keeping calm, be able to understand what is going on through the mind of the client. Time, type of contract, was it to be a security orientated job or more investigating orientated? She released a sigh, drawing in the air before closing the window, her voice cutting across the room, "Enter. The door is unlocked."

Turning back to the door she waited for it to open, the hand brushing upon the hilt of the kukri resting on the surface of the desk as she placed it there, her gaze looking down to the blank sheet - it seems it would have a different use today. And it was she spoke her eyes remained averted from the door, "Welcome to the Scarred Wolf Investigations. How may I be of service to you this day?"
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Fallon is a Master of Intimidation, "At this level, a Master intimidator often unconsciously intimidates their target unless the intimidator monitors their stance, tone, and actions to prevent this. Master intimidators will nearly always have a reputation that precedes them unless they have taken special care to prevent it."
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