WhiteAngel25 — Roleplayer Guild

The misty rain seemed endless on nights like these lately. The moon was shining bright in the starry sky. A young woman's figure moved at a relaxed but quickened pace. Her dark gray, wool-hooded cloak concealed her features at the moment. It kept the dark brown light leather armor and daggers underneath dry. One couldn't be too careful when scouting potential jobs. Faline was always willing to scout ahead. This way, she knew the information firsthand. Posing as a simple mercenary for these last few months, Faline gained favors and weaved a tight web, all without many of her employers not realizing that she was of the Nightingale family.

The water collected within the cobbled streets as Faline made her way to the Lock And Key Tavern within the town of Somerset, one of the trade hubs of the Ellezag Plains. Her uncle, Nikolai, had all up and disappeared three, almost four, months ago after his last letter on his supposed business trip. 

Faline had spent said months tracking her uncle's whereabouts and following a handful of clues he left behind. She had heard of rumors of the Plague out here. The royal guardsmen took anyone who showed signs of sickness to an outpost, but every village she passed through acted as if they heard no clue of such things. 

Even more, rumors had it that the Governor of the Western Ellezag Plains was on the brink of madness. Common folk struggled to keep themselves alive, whether it was food or shelter. The taxes were so incredibly high that the commoners were selling their children to workhouses. It was their only way of ensuring their children had consistent food and a bed to sleep on. 

Faline opened the door to the tavern. The place was alive with laughter, chatter, and banter with card games. She lowered her hood, her fiery locks tumbled down her back, stopping just above her waist as her vibrant green eyes scanned the room. She wasn't the only female mercenary here, just probably one of the more competent, if she was being honest. 

Faline meandered through the lively bar scene as she turned to request a drink from the bartender, only for her eyes to catch the sight of whom she assumed was the tavern owner or a man that fit his description anyway. This man was tall, athletic with light hair so fair that it resembled that of fresh snow and ice blue eyes to pierce through one's soul. He was dressed from his neck down in steel armor with his sword at his hip. 

Sir Dorian was the fifth son of the Governor. He was neglecting his duty to turn in his father, or so it seemed. Stories told that he was planning a revolt against his father and turning him into the Emperor. Faline watched for a while as he drank and played card games with others.

Once the game was finished, Faline stood up from the bar after finishing her drink of ale and made her way over to the table. 

 "Can I join a round?" She asked with a tilt in her voice. Faline flipped a coin down on the table in front of Dorian with her thumb while the other players were made scarce. The token in question had the symbol of a bard on one side and a rogue on the other that she received from finding her uncle's pack about a week ago. The engraving was from a blacksmith from Somerset.

The man smirked and nodded as he swiped the token on its first bounce off the table. He stood up and led Faline to a back room. "Once the others are here, I will explain," Dorian addressed as Faline raised an eyebrow. 

"Others? How big is this job?" Faline asked as she crossed her arms. "I normally work alone."

"I think you will find this job will need multiple hands in the fire, so to speak," Dorian replied with a knowing look in his eye as he left the room to sit back at his post. 

Faline looked around the room as the wooden door closed. It wasn't anything fancy. There was a fireplace with two seating sets, a few tables, a couple of walls lined with bookshelves, and then a few bunkbeds just off the room through a corridor. She sat on the sofa in front of the fire. She put her pack on the ground by her feet and pulled out her journal to go over for what felt like the millionth time. The soft, leather-bound book was packed with notes and clues left behind by her uncle.
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The Original Cupcake Queen

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