Tell me what you think.
CHAPTER 1: What's The Big Deal?
Nexus. It's a glorious day, and the ruddy-looking thief looks around the crowded street, considering his options. He points at passing victims, and mutters their supposed wealths as they continue on. "Poor, poor, middle class, DIRT poor...uhm.. lessee...well this is a shitty day. Not one person worth...stealing...frmm..."
He trails off at the sight of a mistress walking past and stopping at the merchant's booth directly across the lane from where he was posted. She didn't exactly look rather rich, but the woman's gait and posture gave away the true status of her nobility, and Jirke also had a sixth sense about this sort of thing. He waited for the woman to begin her business with the man, who didn't have any particularly good items anyways...If he had, they'd be gone, no thanks to Jirke. [He'd already been to all of the booths already, seeing for anything even worth stealing...there wasn't.]
The woman didn't stay too long, but as she turned to leave, the merchant's daughter rushed out from behind the cart loaded with pelts, and, too busy with whatever games she was playing, bumped right into the maiden. The merchant was infinitely sorry for his daughter's impoliteness, and he apologized to her over and over. The mistress didn't seem to mind, however, but seemed extremely intent on the garment the girl was wearing. The merchant replied, stutteringly, that he just found it in the snow on the way back from a trip. Jirke scratches his stubble and fixes his green-tinted goggles while thinking, "Why's this thing so important...? It looks worse than my baby blanket at 16."
The woman inspected the tattered cloth around the girl's neck, kneeling in front of the little girl, and she offered an incredible amount for the little piece of nothing. The man reeled back in surprise, and Jirke fell off of the wagon wheel he was leaning against. The merchant refused and said he'd just give it to her as a gift becasue of his daughter. The woman then refused and offered again. Just then, as Jirke was dusting off his padded vest, another man of an even higher nobility [he was dressed like it too] stepped forward and offered an even more ridiculously high price. This sent Jirke reeling.
The two nobilities continued to barter, the price raising higher and higher, and Jirke feeling sicker and sicker with every bid. Finally, the man noble bellowed out a price that Jirke could only dream of ever getting a hold of at one time. He blacked out. In Jirke's concious absence, the noble walked away, and the man, content with his sale, began to pack up his store.
Jirke woke up hours later, nose to nose with a creepy old man in tattered robes. Night had already fallen, and the sreets were empty. Mistaken for a drunk, Jirke had been left alone to his own devices, whatever they may be while unconcious. The man cackled at Jirke's startled scream and jump, and backed away. "That was quite a start i gave you, kiddo. Pardon my invasion of your space."
"Who...who..."
"Those nobles? Dragon-Blooded nobles, from some house or another."
"What was that rag? Why did they want that thing so badly?"
"Well...," the old man scratched his chin,"as it turns out, it seems that that's some sort of artifact from the First Age, somewhere in the North. These things aren't really come across by many, and not even that often. I've heard of a couple other items of interest from the North have been sold in neighboring towns just recently, as well."
"...Damn. Damn damn damn." Jirke accentuated each curse with a haughty bash to his head.
"Come on, now. I doubt it's that much of a concern to you."
"I doubt you know who I am, and what I do." He stood up.
"I'm Jirke. I'm an artifact collector." As he said this, he slipped off his backpack, and reached into it, pulling out a tattered notebook filled with scribbles and sketches of all kinds of ancient items and legends.
"This is my Thieve's Log. I'm a professional thief as well." he added.
"I can see that, after watching the way you passed out listening to those nobles." The old man cackled again, a gritty, dry cackle. It bothered Jirke.
"Quiet, old man. So tell me...what was that?"
"That cloth? I really can't say for sure, I don't even know. What i do know, however, is that you can get even more of that, and even better than that further North. All you have to do is find the Invisible Fortress...heehee...good luck, my freind. You'll have to cross the mountains up there, and the weather this time o' year is pretty fierce."
Jirke's eyes glittered maliciously as the old man spoke, and a silly grin spread across his face as the man described some of the things and legends of this "Invisible Manse".
The old man grunted, and stood up with a seemingly extensive effort. "I would feel a little more comfortable continuing with details in my home...would you care to follow? I'm an old man though, and it may be a little while..." He lifted an eye up to Jirke.
"Of course I would! This is the most interesting story I've heard in months! Lead away, old man!"
"Call me old man again, and I'll shank you, boy."
One lone figure moved through the shadows and into the night as Jirke and the old man continued on their way, Jirke's spiky head filled with visions of riches and fame.
Nexus. It's a glorious day, and the ruddy-looking thief looks around the crowded street, considering his options. He points at passing victims, and mutters their supposed wealths as they continue on. "Poor, poor, middle class, DIRT poor...uhm.. lessee...well this is a shitty day. Not one person worth...stealing...frmm..."
He trails off at the sight of a mistress walking past and stopping at the merchant's booth directly across the lane from where he was posted. She didn't exactly look rather rich, but the woman's gait and posture gave away the true status of her nobility, and Jirke also had a sixth sense about this sort of thing. He waited for the woman to begin her business with the man, who didn't have any particularly good items anyways...If he had, they'd be gone, no thanks to Jirke. [He'd already been to all of the booths already, seeing for anything even worth stealing...there wasn't.]
The woman didn't stay too long, but as she turned to leave, the merchant's daughter rushed out from behind the cart loaded with pelts, and, too busy with whatever games she was playing, bumped right into the maiden. The merchant was infinitely sorry for his daughter's impoliteness, and he apologized to her over and over. The mistress didn't seem to mind, however, but seemed extremely intent on the garment the girl was wearing. The merchant replied, stutteringly, that he just found it in the snow on the way back from a trip. Jirke scratches his stubble and fixes his green-tinted goggles while thinking, "Why's this thing so important...? It looks worse than my baby blanket at 16."
The woman inspected the tattered cloth around the girl's neck, kneeling in front of the little girl, and she offered an incredible amount for the little piece of nothing. The man reeled back in surprise, and Jirke fell off of the wagon wheel he was leaning against. The merchant refused and said he'd just give it to her as a gift becasue of his daughter. The woman then refused and offered again. Just then, as Jirke was dusting off his padded vest, another man of an even higher nobility [he was dressed like it too] stepped forward and offered an even more ridiculously high price. This sent Jirke reeling.
The two nobilities continued to barter, the price raising higher and higher, and Jirke feeling sicker and sicker with every bid. Finally, the man noble bellowed out a price that Jirke could only dream of ever getting a hold of at one time. He blacked out. In Jirke's concious absence, the noble walked away, and the man, content with his sale, began to pack up his store.
Jirke woke up hours later, nose to nose with a creepy old man in tattered robes. Night had already fallen, and the sreets were empty. Mistaken for a drunk, Jirke had been left alone to his own devices, whatever they may be while unconcious. The man cackled at Jirke's startled scream and jump, and backed away. "That was quite a start i gave you, kiddo. Pardon my invasion of your space."
"Who...who..."
"Those nobles? Dragon-Blooded nobles, from some house or another."
"What was that rag? Why did they want that thing so badly?"
"Well...," the old man scratched his chin,"as it turns out, it seems that that's some sort of artifact from the First Age, somewhere in the North. These things aren't really come across by many, and not even that often. I've heard of a couple other items of interest from the North have been sold in neighboring towns just recently, as well."
"...Damn. Damn damn damn." Jirke accentuated each curse with a haughty bash to his head.
"Come on, now. I doubt it's that much of a concern to you."
"I doubt you know who I am, and what I do." He stood up.
"I'm Jirke. I'm an artifact collector." As he said this, he slipped off his backpack, and reached into it, pulling out a tattered notebook filled with scribbles and sketches of all kinds of ancient items and legends.
"This is my Thieve's Log. I'm a professional thief as well." he added.
"I can see that, after watching the way you passed out listening to those nobles." The old man cackled again, a gritty, dry cackle. It bothered Jirke.
"Quiet, old man. So tell me...what was that?"
"That cloth? I really can't say for sure, I don't even know. What i do know, however, is that you can get even more of that, and even better than that further North. All you have to do is find the Invisible Fortress...heehee...good luck, my freind. You'll have to cross the mountains up there, and the weather this time o' year is pretty fierce."
Jirke's eyes glittered maliciously as the old man spoke, and a silly grin spread across his face as the man described some of the things and legends of this "Invisible Manse".
The old man grunted, and stood up with a seemingly extensive effort. "I would feel a little more comfortable continuing with details in my home...would you care to follow? I'm an old man though, and it may be a little while..." He lifted an eye up to Jirke.
"Of course I would! This is the most interesting story I've heard in months! Lead away, old man!"
"Call me old man again, and I'll shank you, boy."
One lone figure moved through the shadows and into the night as Jirke and the old man continued on their way, Jirke's spiky head filled with visions of riches and fame.