Fantasy Rags and Riches

[grapedrank]

The kingdom of Ottilia was once a beautiful and prosperous country. It was not perfect by far, but its people were content and happy for the most part. That is, until drought and famine and disease began striking the kingdom. Wells dried up and crops refused to grow and entire towns were wiped out from a plague. The kingdom was on the verge of collapse and in order to protect the few resources left and there were those capable of still running the kingdom, the nobles and royalty of the kingdom closed the doors of the High Town in the capital city of Eamon in order to keep themselves safe. The tall walls that separated the High Town and Low Town have never seemed taller than they did on the day the gates shut. The nobles were kept in seclusion other than the ships that occasionally sailed up the canals into the High Town to deliver goods and transport goods. Many nobles fled along those ships, but some refused to stay behind - loyal countrymen, devoted knights, powerhungry fools.

Unsurprisingly, the common folk left behind (with no money to secure passage outside of the city and no means of survival) were angered and furious with the ruling class. They were given scraps to fend for themselves and they had to watch their neighbors, friends, and family be taken by a plague, struck down by gangs, or slowly starve to death and not being able to do a thing because if they shared their food with others, they too would starve. Babies were left on the streets because families could not afford to feed another mouth and gangs formed from the abandoned children left behind. All of this while the nobles lived their cushioned lifestyles.


However, not all was sunshine and rainbows for the nobles either. The enclosed times greatly shifted the balance of power. Nobles fought over territory rights and power, and only the royal family was able to keep some form of balance and organization to the power system. The royal family made laws to prevent infighting, promising death or imprisonment of any of those who turned upon their fellow nobles. For a time it seemingly worked, however nobles had money and resources and they were nothing if not devious. When they wished for someone to be out of the way, they had other means of being rid of them. Assassins and poison, underhanded tactics, these all became the power-hungry nobles' means of eliminating competition. So no, not all was perfect with the Riches.


The poor common folks' problems were far more direct in nature. Survival was their main goal. As is typical for poor communities, gangs formed in order to gain resources and control over parts of the Low town. A black market formed where the Thieves' Guild, smugglers, and poachers all sell their goods and weapons and people haggle over prices. The Thieves' Guild often take night trips over the wall that divides the Riches and the Rags and steal from the nobles in order to sell some of their goods in the markets. Swords-for-hire hang out in the many taverns among the streets and brothels provide a steady way of living for desperate men and women. Poachers take advantage of the lack of food by selling the animals they hunt in the markets to those who are desperate enough to pay overpriced for them. The smugglers embezzle goods from the ships on the canal in order to provide the Low Town folk with goods from other countries that they have long since been closed off to.


Years past and this new way of life became normal for the two classes. Everyone thought things would stay that way for ever, as things had been this way for far too long to change. The nobles thought the common folk were dirty and diseased, while the common folk resented the nobles for leaving them to fend for themselves so many years prior and never once trying to help as their ways of life began to collapse. This isolation the nobles had inflicted and the devastation that the plague and drought brought upon the people Eamon essentially eliminated the middle class. There is a huge imbalance in the power system and the people are angry. However, once the danger of the plague had passed, the Royal Family, once honored and loved by the people of all classes decided to do some damage repair. One day, a sentry came out with a message to the common folk. The gates would be opening for the first time in years, and negotiations were soon to begin about bridging the gap between the classes. A masquerade would take place in a week's time at the royal palace. The masks being a symbol of nobles and common folk mingling on equal grounds for the first time in over two decades. This ball would mark the first of many talks, negotiations, and other events that were going to be discussed by leaders on both sides of the wall in order to repair the broken relationship between Eamon's people. Most importantly, the walls would be taken down so Eamon would never be able to turn away from its people ever again.


This announcement caused much outrage among those who did not like the idea of change. However, it's either this or civil war.


--

--


This roleplay is a reboot of an older roleplay I made that sadly became inactive when I went MIA after some health problems. I want to give it another shot.


1. I will also be very demanding when it comes to character profiles and lengths of posts in this roleplay. If there are spelling or grammar mistakes or one-liners, I'm going to ask that you go back and fix it. Don't get me wrong a stray then/than or you're/your is fine, it happens to the best of us. But consistent poor grammar and spelling can be very distracting and takes away from what you're trying to say.


2. If I ask you to make changes, respect that! This roleplay is intended for the moderate to advanced roleplayer, beginners are welcome, but you might have a hard time keeping up.


3. You are NOT allowed to post less than a paragraph (a paragraph to me is five sentences). One-liners are forbidden in both character sheets and roleplays. I understand that writer's block gets the best of us, but I ask that you at least try. What does your character think, feel, smell, see? Who are they with? How are they standing or sitting? Do they move around when they talk or wrinkle their nose or furrow their brows? What are they wearing? There is absolutely no reason that you should write a single sentence when there is so much you can write about.


4. Respect other players!


5. Give other people a chance to reply! In other words, don't post too much so that when someone logs on the next day there are several pages of just two characters going back and forth. This causes people to drop out of roleplays and makes them into a 1x1. Quality over quantity people!


6. Don't control other people's players! It's rude - they're not your characters so leave them alone.


7. Keep it PG guys! If you want to take it further, feel free to move to PM, but do NOT post anything of the like in the thread. No gore either. It's against forum rules and this RP is only rated T+.


8. That being said, you are permitted to swear in the roleplay.


9. Do not post or ask to post until I give explicit permission to do so! I will make an announcement when the roleplay is to begin, but for the time being, I'm only accepting characters! Once roleplays begin people are less likely to sign up so I want to give people a chance to make a character before starting.


10. Characters such as the King, Queen, Prince (s), Princess (es), Knight Commander, Thieves' Guild leader, Assassin's Guild leader, Gang leader, and the like are up for grabs but only on a first come first serve basis and you have to ask me first. Send me a PM or post in the OOC. If you are still reading this, post the best pun you can think of at the bottom of your character sheet to prove to me that you read this.


11. Events will be occurring throughout the course of this roleplay. Be sure to watch the thread and keep an eye out for updates because that's how I go about announcing events. The first of these events will be the masquerade.


12. There is NO middle class in this roleplay. You are either a Rags or a Rich, no inbetween.


13. Likewise, you MUST be from Eamon, the capital city. You can't be some trader or from somewhere else in the kingdom. Positions like that might open up later but for now we're keeping it within the city walls and the canals/forests around.


Have fun!

 

[grapedrank]

grapedrank updated Rags and Riches with a new update entry:


Open for Business!

This roleplay is now open and accepting profiles!

Read the rest of this update entry...

 

[grapedrank]

grapedrank updated Rags and Riches with a new update entry:


Announcements and Updates!

I'm so glad people are signing up for this! We haven't filled all of the spots but that's alright. I'm hoping to start this by Saturday night to give people a few more chances to join.
Also just to clarify, please read the Rules and Regulations. There are a few people who haven't had complete profiles because they haven't read the Rules and Regulations, and even if you have a reserved spot, if you don't include everything I asked for, that position is still up for grabs so make sure you have...

Read the rest of this update entry...

 

[grapedrank]

The small group of militia Emera had stationed for patrol that day were taking up the space of her small shelter. The house itself wasn't much, four walls made of mud brick, reinforced with wood she chopped and gathered from the forest. There was an area in the center that was a bit lower than the rest of the floor where she made a fire, and a makeshift window and door carved into the wall facing the street, both of which were covered by tattered cloth. A small cot was located in the far corner right next to extra It wasn't much , but it was more of a home to Emera than she's ever had in her life, and she knows this little shelter has been a place to stay for several of the folk in the area when they fell upon desperate times. only about fourteen square feet total, but it provided sufficient shelter and a safe place for the militia to meet before patrol.


Currently, there was a gathering of a few men and women who had just finished a small hunt with her into the forests. Their catches were strung up and Emera was currently dividing up the rations to be handed out by the markets. They had quite the load this time, the young soldier was proud of what they had accomplished. They had been making hunts into the forests at least once a week now, typically at night when the larger animals moved about and they could be ready for the smaller rodents and birds to arise in the morning and catch them while they were just getting out of their shelters.


The hunting parties had been lucky as of late, bringing in some large game in recent trips much to the dismay of the poachers. Most of the poachers didn't appreciate Emera and her crew giving out food for the townspeople. After all, now the townsfolk had another means of obtaining food and the poachers lost much of their profits as a result and were now forced to lower their prices in order to compete and sell their meats. All Emera had to say on that was "Good." The poachers in Low Town have been taking advantage of the desperation of the starving for too long now, they deserve more than just a small loss of coin. However, just because they freely handed out food rations didn't mean that the rest of the animal went to waste. The meat was the only part of the animal they gave out, the hides, furs and bones were sold in the blackmarket to make a profit and used to fund further operations.


Once the rations were divided and times were assigned to each of the men and women when and where they would be handing out rations, Emera dismissed them from her home. A few stuck behind and her patrol was planning out their route for the night, but she noticed a few still folk shifting on their feet in the crowded room and lingering, looking slightly nervous and unsure. The woman sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, the dirt on her fingertips smudging slightly on her face. "Okay, out with it," she said as she crossed her arms in front of her and leaned against the front wall of the shelter. She had the cloth covering the window rolled up so she could see out into the market. Dusk would be soon approaching and the sky was currently tinged pink with its light. The villagers in the market were finishing their shopping and stands were packing up for the night, but things were still bustling. Emera herself felt quite exhausted after having spent the night hunting in the forests, but she tried not to let it show for she still had much to do today.


"Tis true, Emera?" one of the women, Joanna, spoke up, bringing Emera's attention back to the situation at hand. "What they say?"


"You'll haveta be more specific, Jo," Emera commented lightly, a smirk upon her lips and a brow lifted upwards. She knew exactly what they wanted to know, but felt like dragging it out nonetheless.


"Well - tha- that th' King really made it official?," she finally spilled. The others beside her shifted on their feet uncomfortably, but leaned in closer as they wanted to hear what she was going to say.


"Aye," Emera nodded. " 'appened not a weeks ago. We'll see what 'appens." And the words were sent with a firm nod that spoke to the others that she was done speaking about the matter. Joanna looked as if she were about to ask something else but thought better of it before shaking herself, seemingly more confused than before and the others quickly shuffled after her.


Emera collapsed on her cot and stared at the dried mud roof and the glimpses of sunlight peaking in through the window to her side. She had been patrolling late in the day near dusk near the walls for gangs that had reportedly been planning to scale the wall into the high town when she had spotted a man dressed as if he himself wanted to be target of all the gangs in Low Town what with all the finery he wore. He was a messenger apparently. Even to this day, Emera was stunned by just how different the Riches were from them. The way they spoke and carried themselves was so incredibly structured as if they were still as dignified and orderly as the kingdom was when it was at its most prosperous before the plague struck. The man, Emera hadn't quite caught his name, had come with an announcement from the King himself, a king they had seldom heard about prior. There were few people in the Low Town courtyard by that point in the day, but the young soldier figured that was kind of the point. The messenger had looked uncomfortable and unsure and mildly disgusted by the area around him, as if he wanted to encounter as few people as possible and get back to the clean side Eamon. Few people had seen Riches since before the plague, although more have been spotted in recent months. People were stunned at the announcement. Not because of the contents of the message, after all, rumors had been going around for some time now that something was happening in the High Towns, everyone could practically guess as to what exactly it was. But up until the messenger showed up, all those were simple rumors that were easy to dismiss. Not so much anymore. Some folk still didn't believe it to be true, but Emera had heard it for herself. As much as Emera wanted to spit at the idea and claim that there were more important things to do than play dignitary to a bunch of nobles who would sneer down the bridge of their noses to them all, she also knew what this meant for her people and knew very well to take advantage. This was exactly what Eamon needed, a second chance.


It had been strange, to say the least, the encounter. After all, once the wall was constructed years back, no one from the lower towns had heard from the nobles. They could have all died from the plague behind their little walls and none of them would have been the wiser. Over the years, there were a few announcements from the interior - updates on the king and announcements of traveling parties or negotiations with other kingdoms. All matters that had no effect on them, up until recently when it was announced that there were plans being made to tear down the wall. Emera had no idea what to expect from these talks, but Emera could feel the impending change weighing in the air like a heavy blanket. Yes, things would be very different from this point on indeed.


Emera blinked up at the ceiling, realizing she had been getting lost in her thoughts. She stood up from the cot she was occupying and reached for her Claymore. The two-handed sword's weight in her hands felt familiar and comforting and as she strapped the weapon to her back, she pulled down the cloth covering the door and window, heading out into the markets nearby before they closed up for the day and she would start patrolling.

 

[grapedrank]

grapedrank updated Rags and Riches with a new update entry:


We are now beginning!

Everyone can now post. I have made the first introduction post, and you guys can now post whenever you get the chance. Remember the rules and regulations and try not to post too frequently so everyone gets the chance to participate and keep up.

Read the rest of this update entry...

 

[TGrape]

Prince Alexander stood beside his father as the royal announcement was being made to all those who lived within the walls. He had been told to maintain a neutral expression throughout the proceedings, no matter what happened. Alexander began to understand all too well why his political advisor had told him to do so.


High above the nobles, in the royal balcony bedecked in jewels and what seemed like the heaviest clothing possible, the king announced that the walls were to be torn down and that the rich and poor were to once again mingle as equals, at a royal ball no less, the nobles reacted in fear, shock, and mostly outrage. A few began yelling up at the king claiming that there was still illness outside and that the poor would only degrade our wonderful society. The guards reacted quickly, one squad rounding up the rabble rouser while the guards on the balcony escorted Alexander and the king inside.


"Well that was a bloody mess!" The king angrily removed his crown and jewels trying to get out of the ridiculous clothes. "We'll have a full out uprising on our hands, if not countless assassination attempts. Tell the captain the increase security, however possible." The guards nodded, saluted, and left the king's chambers.


"Father? Do you need help?" The king looked over at his son and breathed a deep sigh. "No, Alexander. You need to stop doing the work of servants, you're the heir to the throne, you'll take over one day. Sooner rather than later by the looks of it." Alexander looked horrified at this. The king burst out into laughter. "Not to worry, son, only a tad of a joke."


Alexander smiled and soon forgot about what the king had said, thoughts turning to hopes of love with the hundreds of new suitors soon to be available. He could barely hide his excitement, all of the nobles were boring and stuffy, or just plain mean. He wanted fun! He wanted adventure, he wanted not to be king, but he could never say that aloud. As Alexander busied himself with disrobing the king looked on with a heavy face and a heavier heart, if only what he had said had been a joke.

 

[Hiddencard]

A boy with one leg curled up in his hands, and the other draped down over the side of the roof was sitting on top of one of the more stable buildings of the slum. A straw was placed between his lips, and he was watching the road observantly. His name was Dimitri Magley and he was one of the guys of low town who was part of the thieves. He had been part of the gang since he was just a preteen, and his parents had been killed by the plague. It was not glamorous, he knew that, but his gang was like family already. When they had been younger they had stolen from everybody, but as they had grown older the gang of thieves had grown more structured - more into a ‘gang’ and they had grown principles.


They only stole from stores now, knowing that all the profit went to the nobles. They stole from tax-collectors and guards. They had stopped taking from people on their side of the wall, but it was riskier business, since they could get executed by small mistakes. It had happened. But it was all going to change…


A smile spread on the young boy’s lips. Because the nobles had made the huge mistake of tearing down their wall. Personally, Dimitri would be the first to start stealing. His kind heart was just not big enough to forgive what they had taken from him. Instead of doing something for the weak, they had set up that wall and allowed their town to go to hell. If they shouldn’t pay in cash, Dimitri didn’t know what they should pay in. His heart and head was so filled with revenge that it irked him to wait. Many of his gang had not even want to set foot there, but Dimitri would. Actually he couldn’t wait.

 

[jukeboxingirl90]

Catherine lowered the fan she was holding when she replied her servants, those two meek and dirty gardener greeting with a much practiced smile, when in her mind she just rolled her eyes at the sight of them. Yes, Catherine usually smile at some of her servants, but just to the ones who was worthy enough, clean and obidient enough to receive her smile. But now she must practiced her smile as serene as possible, because if the rumor about the wall would be teared down was true, all people must 'merged and be civil' with each other. Oh of course they would merged, namely with thievery which she was certain would skyrocketing after this and those low town people would try their best to seduce the nobles. Catherine would cringed in disgust at the latter if she didn't realized that she was still in the house's main hall, for such emotion could be accidentally witnessed by her servants. Those rags attempted to seduce the nobilities? That would require a dress that cost more expensive than their own body, and heavy make up to cover their 'scaled' skin (which she visioned that the make up would be really cheap, then do more damage to their skin). Those delusional men and women who thought they were pretty enough to be a noble's lover could barely pass as a standard courtesan, let alone be a concubine.


The blond woman's train of thought was interrupted by her father's greeting, which she happily replied with a hug and a peck on his cheek before they proceed to the tea room. After a maid (Leila, one of the servants Cathrine liked) served them with red tea, sweet crackers and dry grapes, her father asked with a smile.


"Catherine my darling daughter. It is official now. The King has decided that the kingdom will tear down the walls," Her father's expression were a mixed between a happiness and solemn, for the reasons she knew all too well "I thank the God for this news, finally all people have the rights to live as they want." He smiled brightly. Catherine nodded, pretending to be enthusiastic while she frowned a big time in her mind. After all this time she wanted to delude herself that her father just said that for the sake of courtesy. But no, the current head of de Carlais really wished all people can live each other in peace and always wanted to help people in need. Catherine would have to use all her power to prevent her father be used by anyone and causing the downfall of their family.


"And I hear that there will be a ball, my child. I'm sure all people will fall for you in instant! Be they are from hightown or lowtown." Catherine's smile almost faltered at her father's naive comment. She loved admirers, but not from the ones whose habitat were in rat holes.


"Oh sure father, I'd really love to.." Catherine tried to ignore the feeling and laughed softly. In her mind she made note that she must order the house guards to upgrade the security.

 

[Elle Joyner]

A ball... She'd rather be eaten alive by gutter rats.


This had been the solitary thought revolving around Bronwen's mind when the announcement had come through their part of the hovel. The walls were being torn down, and the little people allowed admittance into the inner workings of the High City. As if that were some sort of a treat. As if the last several years had simply not happened, at all. As if they could ever make up for shutting the doors in the first place... turning their backs on their people. Her father, before disease took him, had once told her that a king was only ever as good as the people he ruled over. Looking around her at the helpless souls she shared her hovel with, huddled together for warmth, their tattered clothes hanging from their sickly frames and dirt smudged faces gaunt and pale she could only think how desperately their king had failed.


With sunken cheeks and a waist you could nearly wrap one hand around, Bronwen considered herself lucky. She was thin, and hungry and sick more often than not, but she was breathing, and she had work in the fields, even if it paid next to nothing... or lately, completely nothing. She cared as much for those around her as she was able, and ensured, even if it meant she did not, that they all ate. She was a better king than their ruler ever had been.


The ball was an insult. A play at an apology Bronwen was sure would never actually be uttered. It wasn't the people the king worried about, it was revolt, and he was right to fear it. They were weak and they were ill, but they were many and they could rise. A single rat could be destroyed with the fall of a foot... but a hundred? A hundred could strip you clean of flesh and sinew. The king was terrified, she was sure, and so he would make what he saw as amends... Visit with the little people until he was satisfied that their murderous intentions had fled at the taste of good meat and ale. He would return to the luxury of his clean, warm palace... his sanctuary of stone and silk, and they would go back to their holes in the walls where, in his hope, they would praise his good natured benevolence to condescend to their level. They would be king and guttersnipes once more, and all would be well in Eamon.


"Oh no... not me." She thought aloud.


But how could she not? With so many mouths to feed. How could she let her people suffer, because of her pride?


Chewing on her lower lip, at the dried, chapped skin there, she arrived to the conclusion she should have seen coming. She could never, in good conscience, allowed good people to suffer for her preconceived notions of a sanctimonious king. She was the only one well enough to go... the only one well enough to speak up for them, and she would. Whether she thought to king would hear or not, she would raise the voice of the people in the Lower City.


With a sigh of resignation, Bronwen rose from off the cold cobble street. "Mallory," She spoke to a young girl a small distance away. The girl, her crown of blonde curls bouncing with the adjustment of her gaze, turned her eyes to Bronwen, "I'm going to need a dress..."

~~

​

"A big one! With ruffles, and lace, and pearls, just how you like it! Like the one you wore for the Emissaries from the Northern Islands! And blue… to bring out your eyes!"


"I don't care what it looks like, Mother, I'm not going." Cressida remarked, an unpleasant scowl marring her pretty, delicate features, "Those... gutter spawn, mingling with our people. Can you imagine? It's just... disgusting."





Lady Barencroft frowned, in such a way as not to wrinkle her forehead, "Cress, this evening is unparalleled in the history of Eamon. Do you understand how important that is to your father? What this could do for his stature? Not to mention the possible prospect of suitors. I don't care what you wear, you will go. And if you don't stop acting like such a silly child, you'll go naked. Am I understood?"





Very rarely did Lady Barencroft exhibit such starkness, save for when it concerned her husband's position in the kingdom. Cressida met her mother with, at first, a look of fury and then one of fearful regard. It was an argument she would not win, she knew. As stubborn as she could be, she had learned it from the woman, standing before her.


Finally, a familiar look of passivity returned Cressida's beauty and she shrugged, as nonchalant as she could manage, "I want a purple gown. Lady Marista has one, and I want one as well. And if I don't like it, I want a second made for me. As well, I want something I can change into, after the feast. No… I need it. Something full, with one of those great big skirts that swirls when you turn. And I do not want pearls. They’re old, and dull and you can hardly see them from across the room. I want sapphires. Not the kind you buy at market. I want real ones, from the caves. I want them on my dress and my shoes. And, I want a hat. One with a feather… but not those stupid looking ones I see Millicent wearing all the time.”





At last, Lady Barencroft smiled, oblivious to the ridiculous nature of her daughter’s requests. She had gotten her way and that, entirely, was all that mattered. Of course, the dresses would be commissioned, no matter the cost or time or materials, and they would not rest until Cressida was completely satisfied, even if it meant a hundred dresses. So long as they looked good in public and Cressida didn’t make any scenes, their title could very well grow, exponentially.


After her mother departed, Cressida turned to face her reflection in the vanity mirror, pouting her lips, so as not to crease her own forehead. If she was to attend the ball, she would do so at her parent’s utter expense. But she would not be suited… not at this ball, not at any of them. She would make such a ridiculous, silly scene… be so utterly lacking in charm, so practically non-demure, none of the stuffed shirt peacocks would ever want her.


And to think… she hated sapphires.


“Clarrisa!” She nearly shrieked, and almost from thin air, her petite lady-in-waiting appeared at her side, a weary but dutiful expression on her slightly pinched face.


“…Brush my hair.” Cressida barked, and because she couldn’t very well say no, but mostly because she had witnessed the earlier display between mother and child, the woman obeyed.

 

[ThatGuyWithSouvlaki]

Joseph worked as he normally did in his forge as he always did, removing a bowl filled of molten steel from a furnace and purred its contents into a mold. His store was nothing a special with a single room wide room with his furnace and anvil with the various tool on one side, and the store counter on the other. Stone walls surrounded the room where weapons and shields of all kinds and quality were displayed proudly, as well as various stands which wore full set of armor ranging from light and flexible leather to to full plate steel. Light in the room was limited to a single hole on the thatched roof over the furnace to let the smoke out, as well as a few candles dotted around the room.


The molten steel gradually cooled into a thin rectangular shape with the length of a standard longsword, he removed it with a pair of tongs and placed one side of it on bowl of burning coal. The fall of the wall between the two social classes was a great business boom for Joseph, though it was meant to be a gesture of peace between the classes, each side began to arm themselves out of fear the expected action of the other. The sword was making was ordered by a noble fearing a great peasant riot looting his own mansion, "a lot of good" a single sword would do him if that was true. Yet even Joseph needed to eat sometimes and the noble paid well. When the end of the blade was red hot he picked up the blade and placed it on the anvil, beginning to bash the sides of the red end to make the extension which will slot in the pommel.

 

[Wrath Of Athena]

Rita carefully crept through the streets, wary of any guards. She'd seen the messenger give the announcement, and had thought to herself how idiotic this whole thing was. So the snot nosed rich morons were all of a sudden going to share their wealth with the poor? She snorted softly to herself. Like that was going to happen. Oh, so the gate may open, and the walls may come down, but they were merely superficial barriers. The rich were still going to hold their belief that they were better than the commoners, and were still going to treat them as inferiors. The masquerade ball? Like that would do anything. As if masks could hide the disdain the rich had, and always would have for the poor. As if the masks could hide their frail malnourished bodies, and ragged clothes. No, this whole thing was farcical. But, she was going to attend. If there was any chance, no matter how small, for a better life for her and her brother, she was going to take it. But as it was, she would continue thieving and lying to provide for them. As she crept forward, she saw a rich man, dressed in fine silks, a coin purse at his belt. She smiled. One thing she liked about the gate opening, and the rich sometimes coming through was that some of them would expect the poor to see them as saviours, and not steal from them. They were definitely wrong about that. She silently moved forward, and put her hand into the man's coin purse. What an idiot. He'd left his coinpurse open, in broad daylight in the Lower City. She grabbed a handful of coins carefully. She put them in her own coinpurse, then scurried off into a dark alley nearby. She opened her coinpurse and examined the coins. Gold coins. A lot of them. It was all she could to to not squeal in excitement. She had never seen more than one gold coin in one place before. The best she could do usually was a few coppers, or maybe a silver here and there. But a gold coin was a rare treat. And look how many she had now! She hurried home so she could tell her brother.

 

[Kattz]

When the King made his royal decree at court, all Chimere could do was open her fan to cover her smiling face. Many of the other noble families were making such a scene and it was just too funny! However, a giggle or snort of laughter would be considered rude and would earn her a sharp look of disapproval from her Aunt in the next seat. Jeanette Beaumont had her face pinched in a look of such distaste that Chimere was sure that this would be the topic of dinner later on. "Maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing..." She thought to herself, a plan forming in her mind.


As later on arrived, she proved herself to be correct because what topic did her Aunt bring up at dinner? The masquerade ball and all that came with it of course! Chimere ate her chowder with a disinterested face as Jeanette ranted on with more irritation than Chimere thought was warranted for the situation. The rest of her family of course, were more business-minded and, therefore, saw the opportunities that such an occasion presented. A grand affair such as this would need the finest music that could be paid for which meant that the Beaumont family was almost guaranteed to be headlining the event with their musicians. "We could even possibly have our own little Chimere play something for everyone." Her uncle suggested.


As well meaning as he probably meant for it to be, Chimere found the idea of being in the spotlight a terrible one. "Uncle, as wonderful as that sounds, if I were to do such a thing, then it would bring too much attention to me. I can't both be a guest and give a performance. This is supposed to be a masquerade ball, and therefore a place where one's identity is supposed to be a mystery, I would think that potentially revealing my identity at the ball in any way before my official social debut would be highly inappropriate." Chimere sugarcoated her words as skillfully as she could in order to ensure that enough people would be on her side and that get her way. It usually wasn't that hard for her to get out of doing something, but convincing others, especially multiple Beaumonts, to do something that was not their own idea would be something else entirely.


"Grandmother, Grandfather, Uncle... Auntie, you are all planning to throw out last season's wardrobes correct?" After she was met with suspicious and questioning yeses from the Beaumont family, she continued her proposal. "The rather than doing so, why not just sell them to the commoners? At a much lower price of course." As she expected, she was met with shock and then immediate chastising by her Aunt Jeanette. Chimere remained silent, letting her continue until she was sure she was finished. "As I was saying before the interruption, these commoners will obviously be without proper clothing to wear for this occasion. Clothes that we are planning on just throwing away can end up giving us profit! Think of this from a business rather than a social prospective. I will be planning on selling my old wardrobe as well of course."


After much debate across the dining table, dinner had come to an end and Lord Alphonse Beaumont, the head of the Beaumont family and Chimere's grandfather, made his decision. "I see no sound reason why such a venture should not be made, it does no financial harm to us after all.... Very well Chimere, you have your wish granted." Chimere let out a small devious grin. "However," her smile faltered. "It's time you start learning more of the business world. You will oversee this little operation with your Uncle's aid."


Her family knew her lazy nature well and chuckled at her slightly shocked expression. She recovered quickly and replied, "Yes Grandfather." Dinner ended and everyone left to go their separate ways. Despite her newfound responsibilities, Chimere couldn't help but smile to herself. Half of those idiots didn't know which fashion was in season and which was not. With the commoners dressed in finer clothing than they're expected to, some of the idiots may actually find themselves dancing and possibly falling for them. The shock and social anarchy that would come after such an event would be too hilarious indeed! With that, she gleefully went off to the family library for a read before bed.

 

[Nightfang]

Seraphim chuckled as he turned the sandy page of his book, listening to the band warm up for the evening. It wasn't everyday you were hired by the king to help with a masquerade. For the paupers, no less. He closed the book, to excited to read, this was going to be a very interesting night.


"Sir," Came a voice nearby, "We've just finished transporting the spare gowns to the ball grounds, but about the, uh, shipment through low town."


The merchant lord looked at the servant waiting a few feet away. "Oh, we didn't lose another one, did we?" He asked, smile betraying what should have been a grave response. "I tell you, those thieves are growing to be a handful, aren't they?"


"Yes, m'lord."


"Go make sure the other supplies made it safely."


"Yes, m'lord." The servant gave a quiet bow and departed.


Seraphim looked down at the poor quarter from his perch on the wall. He wasn't too worried about the supplies, so long as he told the thieves where one cart was heading, they would leave the others be, it was one of the most simple trades he could do, and with plenty of perks- less worry about thieves breaking in and the promise of future trade once the wall came down. When the wall came down. having grown up with the wall there it seemed like such a fairy-tale, like it would never truly happen. Well, maybe it wouldn't, suspicion and loathing would always stay around, and the young lord worried if he would have difficulty getting along with the poor folk outside of the thieves guild, or worse; making it look too easy.


He heard the roaring coming from the royal palace, and counted himself lucky he had skipped out of going there, he didn't need accusatory eyes looking at him, knowing his interest in the paupers. His dad would fill him in, anyway. Well, what didn't come to him through gossiping servants. Wait a minute, was that-? Seraphim watched closely as a noble approached the wall, behind him a small girl running away with a much fuller bag of money.


"Well, at least someone will be affording a good dress for the occasion." The man chuckled and began cantering back along the wall, he had his own preparations to make, like finding a less flashy dress coat. He would visit the lower town for that, of course he remembered to bring along some extra gold in a hidden pocket. In a snap he was at the great gate and heading down the hill.

 

[Capn Gregginz]

Eddart couldn’t help but laugh at the King’s royal decree. A ball? With commoners? How ludicrous. He shifted his eyes around the plaza, staring at the sea of enraged nobles that swarmed the area. Some turned to him and raised an eye, why would a member of the prestigious Doherty family find something so awful so funny.


“How can you laugh at a time like this? Our home is about to be wiped out by that… trash outside the walls,” a noble shouted to Eddart. He raised his arms in a sarcastic motion and bowed to the noble. “My apologies,” Eddart sarcastically smiled. “I rather enjoy the fact of uncivilized poor folk attempt to dance at a royal ball.” The riches around Eddart started to become unruly, finding no humor in his words.


“Foolish Doherty, this is an epidemic. Think of the plague they will bring us,” a noblewoman moaned, waving her fan into her heavily powdered face.


“I find this news enjoyable, madam,” Eddart retaliated. “You only see the negatives. Sure, a plague or two may come in. But think of the opportunities that this can bring.” As the nobles returned to their bickering, a deep voice bellowed from behind Eddart.


“I also think of the opportunities that this may bring us.” It was the voice of Jondette Doherty, Eddart’s father and head of the Doherty family. Though he was short in stature, he sounded like he was over six feet tall. He stroked his great bushy beard and tapped his son on the back, a sign for Eddart to step back a little. “Think of the wonders this could do to our economy. Bring all of Eamon into a golden age of wealth and prosperity.” A few of the nobles looked to the Doherty’s with confusion which ultimately turned to surprise. Could this bring them more weath? Most did not agree and continued their ranting, but some stopped and nodded to Jondette’s words.


“I believe it is time for us to be on our way,” Jondette remarked. “I have been out in the sun for far longer than I wanted.” Eddart followed his father’s words and left the area with him, returning to their grand manor.


Protected by the safety of their home, father and son had retreated to the den with glasses of wine in hand. “What a load of shit,” Jondette chuckled staring at the walls of the room. Mounted heads of beasts found outside Eamon had taken up almost every aspect of the wall, the deep blue wallpaper was hardly noticeable. “Think of the possibilities, father. Chaos in the streets because of these barbarians we share a homeland with.” Eddart smirked at his thoughts as he said them aloud. “Stage a few robberies. Scare them out of the city with a few hired thugs.”


Eddart raised his glass to his father who returned the favor. “To… opportunity,” Eddart smirked.

 

[grapedrank]

Emera was lingering in the markets after having handed out her part of the food rations to the folk in the square. There wasn't much for her to do, although she wouldn't have minded a small rest before her patrol, but there was really no point as she would be starting her patrol soon. She was leaning against the crumbling mudbrick wall of a building talking to a farmer that lived on the outskirts of the Low Town and making small talk about the crops, drought and other such things. As she spoke she examined the Claymore she had pulled off of a dead mercenary several years prior and ran a gloved hand over the dings and scratches.


She would need to take the sword to a Smithy soon, her last altercation with a band of smugglers had left it dinged up due to a particular smuggler wearing a heavy armor. The Claymore was still in decent shape, however, more than enough to withstand several more battles, but Emera would prefer to have her weapons and armor in top form whatwith all the people that have been wanting her head as of late.


Emera spotted a noble lingering in the markets, and watched as a young thief came behind him and picked his pockets, making away with much of the man's gold. She pursed her lips in an attempt not to smirk at the sight as the man remained oblivious to it all. The young woman purchased some bruised fruit with a few coins from her coin purse which she kept under the bandages she wrapped over her breasts.


Keeping the muslin bag of coins in her right hand, Emera made her way over to the pickpocketed noble from before and tossed it to him. He caught the bag, stunned and then looked at her as if puzzled and somewhat apprehensive.


"To replace the one that got stolen," she commented lightly. As if on cue, the man patted his pockets frantically and swore as he realized his coin was indeed gone and then glared at Emera as if she were at fault. She raised her hands in a show of fake surrender. "Don' look at me," she spoke. "It was a young thief, small. She got away 'fore anyone could spot her."


"You seemed to have spotted her," the man commented, the glare menacing.


"Aye," she hummed in agreement, "which is why you can 'ave the rest of my coin. 's not much, but think of it as an apology." The noble seemed to relax a little, moving so his back was now against the wall of a building instead of facing a dark alleyway.


"Thank you, Miss.."


"Emera," she finished, the man looked at her as if expecting more and the woman just shrugged in response.


"William Shepard Harrison," the man, William introduced himself, holding out a hand for her to shake despite the fact that he clearly did not want to touch her filth covered hands. She gave him points for trying though, and gave it a brief shake before letting go.


"What brings a noble like you into Low Town?" she asked the man, turning her head curiously.


"I've been ordered by the Royal Guard to scout out areas to hand out the proper apparel for the upcoming ball," he said. Emera guessed that he had figured the area he had been standing was where he was looking to set up their stand until he realized that the area provided a good cover for pickpockets.


"I was curious as t'how the King planned on holding the ball. You realize though, that at least half of the finery will find its way inta the Black Market within the day though, yes?" The noble nodded solemnly.


"If that is to be their choice then so be it, the King is doing this in order to allow folk to attend the ball as equals, not lowers, and it is the people's choice to do with what they are given. Therefore, I am here, being pickpocketed by the impoverished," he said the last part with a sneer as he turned back to the alley.


Emera made a face at his words. "No thanks to the King 'imself, he is partly at fault for the state of my people," she commented but continued on before a debate could erupt of it. "But listen here, sir, if you and your nobles need a safe place to hand out goods, set up near my soldiers," she said, pointing out the several areas where members of her patrol were giving out rations to the desperate folk that needed them. "They'll keep ya' safe and watch your back. They're the best Low Town has to offer," she said with pride.


"Soldiers?" William repeated, confused before realization hit him. "You're the woman who runs the militia!" He exclaimed, eyes widening slightly.


Emera's brows furrowed and she slowly nodded. "Aye," she said simply.


"They have been talking about you up there," he went on, gesturing to the wall, or more specifically what was on the other side of it. "They -- the Royal Assembly, the King's Parliament, whichever you prefer to call it -- they want to do talks, parley, negotiations with folk from the Low Town, your name has been mentioned several times, they definitely want you as one of the ambassadors to the talks."


Emera was stunned, her teeth grinding together, and back getting tense. "I'd have'ta think about it," she spoke honestly. "But you best be high-tailin' it back to High Town if I were you. Dusk is fast approaching and you danot wantta get caught out here at night," she went on.


The man startled and nodded, grabbing Emera's hand and shaking it once more, this time with less disgust than before which Emera was slightly grateful for. "You have been most gracious, madame," he replied as he let go, ever the noble that the man was raised to be.


"Just Emera," she insisted, gritting her teeth.


"Regardless," he waved her off, "I thank you for your kindness and will be sending my men to your militia in the markets tomorrow." And with that, the man bowed and made a hasty retreat back to his side of the wall. Emera waved for a moment before glancing around. She had gotten a few curious stares as she was interacting with the noble, but otherwise, the market was mostly cleared out and she would be starting her patrol.


Pulling out her Claymore from its scabbard at her back, the woman began heading towards the other side of the market square, already aware that her soldiers were going to be starting their routes right about now.

 

[Nightfang]

Seraphim froze as soon as he passed the gate, the difference between the higher and lower city was even more shocking up close, that and he recognized how late it was getting. The air was growing colder and sky darker and he hoped he could complete his business soon.


"I would hate to stay here too late, last thing I want to do is ask Sean for a return favor." He shuddered at the image of his perpetually gleeful brother and pulled his coat closer around him. "What does he have to be so happy all the time..." The merchant stopped talking to himself as he entered the market and walked up to a familiar spot, where a few paupers were spending time. "I haven't been down here since I was a child, my father often snuck me out here to meet with some friends. It's pretty sad how much it's changed." One of the men in a ragged over-coat gave him a cross look.


"What do you want, noble?" He said with a sneer visible through his thick beard.


"I'm just reminiscing while I wait for some old friends." The man snorted, "I don't suppose you'll sell me your coat, will you?" The old man started. "No? How about a trade, mine for yours?"


"Leave me alone," The old man grumbled, turning away. "I don't need a fools charity."


"Huh, fair enough." Seraphim watched the old man walk away.


"You thought 'ed like t' talk to a noble, wot 'appened to that shrew'd merchant I use to know?"


"Sean." Seraphim knew better than to turn and look for his brother at this point, he rarely wanted to be heard in public, much less pointed out to a crowd. "I heard you got a new present."


"Yes yes, a very nice one. 'parently they got it from some merchants travelin' through town. I wonder why that is?" Seraphim felt a sudden weight in his pocket. "I also heard that they're throwin' a party, some sort of birthday? You might want a new hat."


"Thanks for nothing, just remember who's invited and who's not." Seraphim left the park hastily and approached what seemed to be the clothing store, but it could have been selling dishrags for all he knew. He pulled some papers out of his pockets and put the coat on the stall.


"A donation, do you mind telling me what people are wearing down here?" It really feels good to get past that blasted wall. He listened to the clerk while going over the inventory Sean gave him and waiting for the day to pass.

 

[Kattz]

Chimere drummed her fingers in irritation and boredom as paperwork loomed before her. "Uncle, what... is all this? I thought we were just selling a few clothes?!"


"Congratulations little 'Mere, you're first business venture has caught the attention of the King himself. Rather than going along with your original plan, His Majesty's has decided to purchase the garments himself, along with many others from foreign lands according to rumor. It's probably to give it all out to the commoners rather than sell them to them." Her Uncle Andre Beaumont said in his quiet tones. "Oh and it's all hush hush of course. A small surprise for the nobles when they attend the ball, but that's what you wanted isn't it?" He was on to her prank, but she expected that so she ignored his last comment.


"Yes, but that doesn't explain why I'm looking at and signing all of these!" Chimere's fingers stopped their movement and closed into a fist while her other hand gestured to the paperwork piled on the desk.


"You didn't think that this business was all talk and visiting your employees to make sure that they did their work for you? Did you?" Her Uncle was only partially paying attention as he worked on crafting another violin from scratch.


Chimere was really starting get tired of this. She did not enjoy being toyed with by an Uncle who knew exactly which buttons to push. "Of course not but why is it only me alone being left to sort all of this out?"


"Because you heard my father. You are overseeing this little operation."


"With your aid!" Chimere snapped back. "And when is that going to come?"


"I'm giving it to you right now." He was carving a delicate design into the wood.


"How?" She demanded.


This time he finally looked up, serious but with a twinkle in his eye. "I'm giving you my aid currently by telling you to get to work on that paperwork or I tell your dearest Grandfather that you couldn't do something as simple as this." This made Chimere glare at him but do as she was told albeit rather grudgingly. She hoped that there would be some social scandal following the ball that was worth all of this.

 

[grapedrank]

grapedrank updated Rags and Riches with a new update entry:


Information on the Ball and the dynamics of it all.

So I've been getting many inquiries about how the ball works, and wanted to clarify a few things as the ball gets closer.
- My inspiration for this was an old legend about how the two faerie courts in Celtic myth would throw a masquerade every once in a while to promote peace. The one court was rougher around the edges, often considered more brutal and violent, rough around the edges, while the others were considered "graceful" and light despite the fact that they were cruel in their own ways...

Read the rest of this update entry...

 

[Wrath Of Athena]

Rita arrived home. Not that it was much of one. Just a few pieces of would shambled together into a small living area, separated into two sections by a ragged curtain of fabric. But it was the best she and her brother had. Garon, her younger brother, was already in his small bedroll, asleep. He was only 11 years old. All the stealing, all the lying, all the... she didn't want to think it, but... all the killing, it was for him. Her mother had told her to take care of him, and she did. She pulled the bedroll over him fully, then left the small shack. She walked toward the market. She needed to get a dress for the ball, and possibly a book on etiquette. She wanted to be able to make a good impression at the ball when it happened. Now, where was she going to get those? There weren't exactly many options for that in the Lower City. And she didn't want the ridicule she would get from the Higher City. She didn't have any dresses at all, let alone one suitable for a fancy masquerade ball. Dresses had always seemed... Impractical to her. It was hard to run, hard to sneak, hard to fight, hard to... do anything, really, in a dress. It seemed like all one could do in a dress was stand around talking. Perhaps that was the point. Regardless, she found them highly impractical. She preferred a shirt and trousers instead. But, for the sake of this event, she would have to wear one.

 

[TGrape]

Alexander leaned over the railing of his private balcony that provided a wonderful view of the eastern side of the city. As the sun slowly set it cast a beautiful golden hue across the gleaming tops of the noble households, and just over the wall he could barely make out the outskirts of the Low Town. As the sun set Alexander began quietly singing a song he had heard at a ball sometime ago.


Across the wall my love awaits


I'll wait for her as fate ordains


I know that she'll be true


As long as I am too


We'll be united in the Fall


I pray, I pray


"Are you alright, son?" Alexander nearly fell into the streets below when he heard his father's voice appear behind him. He quickly turned around to see King Oxwald Goldenhallow standing gently smiling at him.


"I...I'm fine, father. No need for your concern." The King nodded thoughtfully and stood beside Alexander.


"You're still young, Alexander. You understand that, yes?" Alexander looked up at his father and nodded slowly. "Then you still have plenty of time to find someone you're willing to share the throne with and spend the rest of your life on this realm with."


"And if I don't, father?"


"Then I pray that my fate does not become yours. Stuck in a union where you only see your wife once a week and are greeted with all the warmth and kindness of a ravenous vulture. True, you may have to marry someone you do not love, but at least don't marry someone you hate. This ball is going to show more than the fact that we, as humans, are all equal, it is going to show that we all have equal opportunities. Up until now only a noble was allowed to marry into the royal family, but as of the ball, you will have to right to marry whomever you choose."


Alexander gaped at this statement, certainly he had hoped to flirt and engage in certain activities with some of the incoming subjects, perhaps pick a royal concubine to be his true love during his stuffy royal marriage, but now, now anything was possible. He could find his true love and marry her or him. Alexander suddenly began giggling.


"What's wrong, Alexander?"


"Nothing, I'm just imagining the faces of the noble households when they hear this news." The king smiled down at his son, envisioning the bright future ahead of him.


"I'll have the royal messengers announce it the day of the ball, people will know to be on their best behavior, but they will not have enough time to plan anything devious."


"Thank you, father."


"I love you, son."

 

[Hiddencard]

Dimitri took the straw from his mouth when he caught eye of someone dressed way too nicely for his own good. He was still sitting on top of the roof and lifted an eyebrow as he had noticed a nobel man come through the streets. There was never a doubt when a noble entered the slums. It didn’t take long before his pockets were swiped though, and Dimitri was almost unfortunate that he hadn’t gotten to do it himself. He smirked a little, but the smile fell when someone from the slum went over and handed him money back. Guess there were all kinds of nice people around the slum. He sighed and leaned his hands over his knees.


When the man walked away though he could get a better look at the girl. Ah, now he recognized her, she was the one who led the small group of people in the town. They didn’t refer to themselves as a gang, but personally he saw them as one, just one that was organized in another way than the thieves or smaller gangs that was just in it for the power game.


He climbed down the edge of the house and jumped down from the roof. He landed a little away from her. “That was a pretty nice thing to do,” he commented with the corner of his lip lifting a little. His voice wasn’t blaming, but he clearly didn’t understand why she had done so. The rich could spare coins, the slum could not. It was survival over having an extra dress.

 

[grapedrank]

"What can I say, I'ma giver," Emera commented lightly, turning slightly to face the man who had landed next to her. Her face grew serious though a moment later before she spoke again. "He didn't deserve it," was all she said. Whether she meant that the noble didn't deserve to be pickpocketed or whether he didn't deserve her coin or perhaps some odd combination of the two remained to be seen, but Emera did not comment on it any further.


Emera had always had mixed feelings on the nobility of Eamon. Strategically, their plan of isolation kept the kingdom from collapsing from plague, drought and famine. It was not a flawless idea but it was possibly the best option they were faced with at the time. She understood that. What she did not understand, however, was the reasoning behind keeping the walls up for so many years, letting she and her people to die. A part of her understood the fear and prejudice that they had of the Low Town folk, just as Low Town folk had prejudices of them, but a part of her was still the little bitter young girl who was angry and alone because she was born on the wrong side of a damn wall. She hated the way they looked down upon them all, despised the facades they put on and the disgust at how dirty they were when in some cases, the hands of nobles had more dirt and blood than a y realized. But she respected them, as well. The power, grace, cunning. Their efficiency at getting things done and all their connections. So yes, you could say Emera's feelings on the Riches were quite complicated.


The young woman's calloused hands shifted their grip on the Claymore, as if the muscles in her hands were tensing up for battle as night approaches. Gang activity had been increasing at nights since the rumors of the wall began spreading and Emera had been a part of many more fights than she would care to.


Turning her attention back to the man before her, she finally got a good look at him. He was young, close to her age she assumed. She had spotted him earlier as she was entering the markets (as she is used to scouting places out everywhere she goes and not letting her guard down) but otherwise does not recognize the man.


"Tis' getting late," Emera spoke , "do ya really want to be out here by y'rself?"

 

[Hiddencard]

Dimitri shrugged his shoulders and his hands dug into his pockets. “Maybe he didn’t deserve it, maybe he did,” he said, tilting his head with a casual smile, his eyes roaming with his clear statement that it was the later rather than the first. Dimitri was always thinking badly of the nobles until proven wrong, that’s just how he had always been. He would never physically harm them, he was not that far out in his hatred, but he would also never feel remorse for stealing their lunch money. He honestly just didn’t want to finance some decoration on the wall or a box of saturday chocolates. They didn’t deserve to be mugged, or killed. But losing a few coins. He had never experienced a noble showing him any kindness, not when he was young, and certainly not now. His mind was too clouded up with distaste already.


He looked up at sky when she mentioned it. His whole demeanor shifting less hostile when the subject went away from the nobles and his shoulders relaxed. “Aye, I kind of work at night you see, I will be fine,” he said, smirking a little. She could probably guess what his occupation was from that fact. He didn’t see a reason to keep it secret.


He was just about to head off, but something came back and nagged his mind, and he quickly turned back around. “Why did you help that man?” great Dimitri… just let it go already.

 

[Silvestris]

A ball with nobles and commoners...to Millicent Nathair, someone may as well have told her that the city was going to be painted with pink and purple rainbows, because it made about as much sense to her.


Not that she particularly cared for the politics behind it; everyone was an enemy as far as Millicent was concerned. People were only useful to steal from, beg from, and occasionally buy from. Every so often you might, on rare instances, find someone who can tolerate you long enough so as not to rob or attack you-and, even more rarely, help you, but Millicent had soon discovered that to help a person in need simply meant they remembered you next time they were in need. No relationship was ever truly mutual, if you lived at the lowest end of society. But nobles, she knew, were different. Nobles could afford to be generous, without having to worry about their own needs being sacrificed. Nobles might be in charge, but when brought down to the lower levels, were naïve as children. Nobles had things of value beyond any commoners wildest dreams...and might host balls with free food. And Millicent was more hungry than she had been in weeks. Her mother had told her of people, rich people, who actually stood out on the streets and gave free food to people who needed it. Some commoners refused such offers with obstinacy, too proud to stoop to such levels. They often didn't last the winter. It was a stupid man who hung onto dignity when they could be holding a bowl of gruel, however thin and gritty it may be. But a ball...Millicent didn't know much about balls, except that nobles liked them, people danced in fancy clothes, and there was often food. In any case, the opportunity was too great to miss. But for now, she needed better clothes if she was to attend. She had already spent most of the morning begging outside the theatre, and had scraped together a few pennies. The idea of spending it on clothes rather than food seemed preposterous to Millicent, but, telling herself it would be worth it in the long run, she found herself heading to the market, in a section of stalls which she hadn't visited in years.

 

[Hellkite]

Merek Clipshawe eyed the man cowering before him with disdain, playing with an engraved- and stolen- pen that had been left on his desk. He reclined lazily in his chair, boots on the desk considering the Rag, glancing to his trusted lieutenants in the Clipshawe ring, before glancing back at the debtor.


"You understand, Fabien, how much you owe the Clipshawe Ring in debt?"





The man nodded silently, keeping his eyes fixed on the floor.





"So," Merek studied the Fabien's face, "Can you pay us? Or will we be forced to consider... other options, to resolve the issue?"





The Rag looked up at Merek, "Mr Clipshawe, I'll find a way- some way, anyway. You'll have your money's worth, Sir, I promise,"





Fabien cast around desperately, searching for words. "I'll work the streets, I'll do jobs for you, anything," He looked Merek in the eye. "Please, just don't kill me. Don't go after my family- they were never involved-"





"Fabien please," Merek smirked lightly, "Don't be so dramatic. How can you pay me if your dead?"





Merek oaused for a response. Silence.





"Now, I'm sure we can reach a deal. I'd be willing to overlook the debts you have accumulated," Fabien glanced up eagerly. "Provided you run a few errands for me. Little things, you know. Carry a few packages past checkpoints, keep an eye out for guards, obstruct the milita. That sort of thing. Can you do that Fabien? Or will I have to be more imaginative to get my money's worth from you?"





Fabien nodded, a spark in his eye apparent that had been missing before.





"Good. Speak to the blonde man outside. Explain yourself to him, and get to work."





Fabien smiled with relief, turning to leave.





"And Fabien?" the man turned, a hint of worry returning.





"Mr Clipshawe?"





"Try to run, try to hide, and know that the Clipshawe ring will find you. When you're dragged back, bruised and broken, we'll have a very different conversation, one which you may not survive."





Once Fabien had left, bowing profusely, Merek turned to his wardrobe and opened it, eyeing his clothes, considering which would be best to wear to the Riches ball.