Here's what I have so far...
990 words so far. Getting there slowly.....since I started late x.x
Here's a bit of the story I had written so far:
"What do you want, stranger?" she asked cautiously. No point in being rude, especially since she did not know how powerful the person could be. Again, she wondered about the vial proposed in front of her. Poison, or cure?
"A trade," a quavery voice escaped the folds of the cloak worn. Her interest was rekindled. A trade? She had nothing to trade, and everyone was aware of it. After all, what would a simple swordlady own? Briefly she recalculated her meager belongings hoarded upstairs in her room. Unless this stranger is interested in rags and strings, she doubted she had anything of high value.
"Nay, I do not have much to trade," she replied. She was acutely aware of the rousing interest in the tavern around her. A slight trickle of sweat rolled off her back discreetly. The glances being thrown at her grew more suspicious and sharp, and the air in the tavern grew hushed and distinctly menacing.
"Oh, I but not wish for the trinkets you hoard m'lady," the stranger said quietly. The vial twinkled slightly as the dim tavern light bounced across the glass. Curiouser and curiouser.
"Then what do you wish for, stranger? And what do I get in return for it?" she asked sharply. The sense of unease grew. What exactly does this being want?
"Your first, a task. This vial will be yours if it is accomplished," the stranger said quietly before continuing, "But first, let us leave. The air is getting darker within." With that, the mysterious person turned to leave, forcing her to follow the abrupt stride. It was only after several blocks away from the tavern did the stranger stop. Panting slightly, she cast a quick eye at her surroundings. Dark and dim, it was poorly illuminated by the moonlight.
Here's a bit of the story I had written so far:
"What do you want, stranger?" she asked cautiously. No point in being rude, especially since she did not know how powerful the person could be. Again, she wondered about the vial proposed in front of her. Poison, or cure?
"A trade," a quavery voice escaped the folds of the cloak worn. Her interest was rekindled. A trade? She had nothing to trade, and everyone was aware of it. After all, what would a simple swordlady own? Briefly she recalculated her meager belongings hoarded upstairs in her room. Unless this stranger is interested in rags and strings, she doubted she had anything of high value.
"Nay, I do not have much to trade," she replied. She was acutely aware of the rousing interest in the tavern around her. A slight trickle of sweat rolled off her back discreetly. The glances being thrown at her grew more suspicious and sharp, and the air in the tavern grew hushed and distinctly menacing.
"Oh, I but not wish for the trinkets you hoard m'lady," the stranger said quietly. The vial twinkled slightly as the dim tavern light bounced across the glass. Curiouser and curiouser.
"Then what do you wish for, stranger? And what do I get in return for it?" she asked sharply. The sense of unease grew. What exactly does this being want?
"Your first, a task. This vial will be yours if it is accomplished," the stranger said quietly before continuing, "But first, let us leave. The air is getting darker within." With that, the mysterious person turned to leave, forcing her to follow the abrupt stride. It was only after several blocks away from the tavern did the stranger stop. Panting slightly, she cast a quick eye at her surroundings. Dark and dim, it was poorly illuminated by the moonlight.