An Intriguing Meeting (Gwendolen & Hrafn)

[Mant Liknessa]

80th of Fall 510 Mant shrugged out on the streets, chewing on the final rests of the common meal he allowed himself to buy. Yesterday, he had managed to rent a poor apartment in the bottoms of the castle he could sleep in and store his stuff in. The horse he had put into the care of a local stallkeeper, and his tent and equipment he had stored in the apartment. The strange odour of the city seeped into his nose, and he wrinkled it in a flinch. "How do these humans live with the smell?" He went through the masses that walked the streets, and tried to see if there was anyone that tried to pickpocket him. "I need to update my renting," he thought to himself, and then saw an undernourished and dirty girl carrying a big sack on her back.

[Gwendolen Lawrence]

80th of Fall, 510 A.V.

Gwendolen stood by the wall of the Alban's store, and ate the raw chicken she had bought a few days earlier. Licking her hands a few times to clean up the remaining salt from the chicken, she turned her heel against the store, and began to walk towards the alley where she spent most of her nights in the city.
She had nothing else to do in the city, than to wait for the upcoming winter season and take advantage of the rising price on salted deer meat. Feeling unpleasant walking, she turned her head to the right, and stares the bearded man into the eyes. Gwendolen tightens her grip around the sack, walks towards the bearded man, in hope of friendship, or alike.

[Mant Liknessa]

80th of Fall 510 Mant stares with his steely glare on the girl after she came towards him, and then says to her, slowly and penetrating: "You look undernourished, have you gotten any food today?" He observed the traits on her which proved her choice of little diverse food, and looked rather frowning on her. His beard waved in the short breeze that went through the streets in that minute, and the backpack sat firmly on his back.

[Gwendolen Lawrence]

80th of Fall, 510 A.V.

Gwendolen back at the man and looks down upon herself, to observe her physical condition. She lifts up her head and looks at the man again, answering with a slight grin.
-"Undernourished, you say? I wouldn't consider my condition that. It's just a simple way to save in on food. You see, meat isn’t free." She lowers her eyes to his beard, but
quickly returns to his face once again.
-"What's your name? It'd be hard to discuss with a man, without a name." she says, and quickly continues to talk.
-"You may call me Lawrence. Further information about me is futile, for now."

[Hrafn Alaric]

80th of Fall, 510 A.V.

Hrafn, a weary, tired Isurian smith stepped out. His face was covered with soot and smoke. The clanking of the metallic elements tired him - he was exhausted. He inhaled the fresh air, or atleast as fresh as it gets in this ripe industrious city. Nothing compared to the tired and clogging streets of Sultros - but the air was the thick and ghastly. He walked through the district after locking his Smithy... Well, it was his home as well, but he thought of it as a workplace. It was a sunny day and the birds were loving it. The chirping of the doves form a choir of natural songs.

He walked to the square in the old market district, fortunately, he had brought his hammer along - alas, it rested by his side. He favoured it more than any hammer so it rarely left his side. But this trip was not entirely just for fresh air and a breeze of mind - no. He needed extra workers. His smithy had an extra space, why not? He'd work for a few hours and get a bedroll and a small space. He spotted the girl from a far. She seemed hungry but capable of working hard. He walked in her direction and received a look from the tall, bearded man. He caught Hrafn's eye and Hrafn walked up to him.
-"You good sir. Are you a working man by any chance?" he asked. He was a tad shorter than him, but the Isurian was tall by Isur standards.

[Mant Liknessa]

80th of fall, 510 A.V. "Call me Mant. I have no intention either to embellish my life for you," he said to her. He had his intentions to continue talking, but stopped when he heard someone stopping beside him. Mant turned his glance from the girl and looked - up at the Isurian. His eyes still had the brooding stare, and after he heard the man's question he responded with: "A working man? No. I am not. Why you ask?"

[Hrafn Alaric]

80th of Fall, 510 A.V.

-"I am looking for an apprentice. I won't pay... Yet, maybe if business is booming. You'll work a few hours a day and you get a space to sleep. And you'll learn blacksmithing on the side. Your daughter can come aswell." Hrafn paused to nod in the direction of the girl. His name is Mant or Nant or something similar. He looks like a normal average human but the girl on the contrary had a special aroma around her. Hrafn couldn't quite put his finger on it. He shook his head and smiled to himself and waited for a response.

[Gwendolen Lawrence]

80th of Fall, 510 A.V.

Gwendolen looks upon the Isur who approached them. He was tall, and rather muscular, even for an Isur. Looking for an apprentice, without paying? That was something new, even for her, who had heard most of the grim tales in Syliras. As the Isur had finished his talk, her face took on a slight smile, as she said-
-"I'd advice you to not mistake me for the daugther of that man. Our relationship is nothing else than what has grown between us since our meeting, which happened to be just before you came." She gave the Isur a slight glare, and countinued her speech.
-"Now, I do not know what my friend here would say about working as an apprentice but, discussing business in the middle of the city square wouldn't be proper. What about you treat us something to eat, and we'll discuss this matter further?" She smiled, and scratched her chin in pure enjoyment.

[Hrafn Alaric]

80th of Fall, 510 A.V.

-"Hrm. Yes. Follow me, if you will." Hrafn nicked his head back in a forward gesture as he turned and started walking. He led the duo through the sprawling streets of Syliras. To the right, a customer complained of the price of a mere apple while a merchant shook his head and mumbled nay while shooing him away. To the left two Sylirian Knights stood facing each other, talking about their wives. Hrafn scoffed as he kept moving, occasionally ducking because of the wooden beams being moved around.
-"What are your names, while we're moving?" he asked them both while cocking his eyebrows, he didn't face them but just kept on walking.

[Mant Liknessa]

80th of Fall, 510 A.V. "Well, my name is Mant. You do not need to know more. Currently," Mant replied. He looked at the two knights too, and turned his glance away from them in indifference. His boots resounded against the hardened floor, and he had his neck lightly crooked forward. But not too much, since he wanted to be aware of everything. "What is your name?" He asked some minutes after the last syllable of his previous statement slipped off his tongue. Turning his brooding stare to the Isurian again.