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rainbowfic2023-08-29 08:09 pm
scifirenegade) wrote in rainbowfic2023-08-29 08:09 pm
Entry tags:
Fool's Gold #3
Name: To the Purple Bear Inn
Story: Ironden
Colors: Fool's Gold #3 (sleight-of-hand)
Supplies and Styles: Canvas, Pastels
Word Count: 1008
Rating: G
Warnings: N/A
Notes: Pre-Canon, featuring Bromira and Handriel Trays. This is how they met, basically.
Summary: Mira is to be given a job, and has to go to a very specific inn. She does not end up being robbed by a very incompetent thief.
Sometimes, Mira wonders about the way she got where she is.
She was walking along the streets of her hometown, Ironden. A town populated by humans. Well, mostly populated by humans. Some dwarves have made it their home over decades, and they are usually well-liked and respected in the community.
People like Mira aren't so lucky.
It was only after she defeated, all by herself, that strange creature that attacked the town. That creature that, when defeated, melted into nothingness, or it appeared that way to her. Only after that, she got the respect she longed for since she was a child. No longer a monster, Mira was a hero.
Yet, she couldn't lie, some of the words hurled at her in the past still wounded her.
Back to the present, Mira moved through the cobblestone streets, searching for that Purple Bear inn. "They" got her a "job", and she was supposed to meet them there. She didn't know who "they" were, or what the job entailed, but she was eager to find out. Always ready for an adventure, she was.
Mira observed her surroundings, a part of town she had only gone to once or twice in her youth — youth, she wasn't an old lady —, plus she didn't remember any inn by that name. Maybe it opened recently, or, when she did visit this place, she was too drunk to remember. She passed by a small group of scraggly-clothed men, drinking ale and singing bawdy songs; they were harmless. No one could be stupid enough to dare steal from or attack her; half-orcs are tough to beat.
At last, she saw, down that road, a wobbling sign painted purple. That had to be it. She scratched that nasty itch on her shoulder that had been plaguing her since the mysterious creature attacked and—
Someone bumped into her and kept running; didn't even apologise. Rude. Trying to calm herself down, she stopped and put her hands on her hips as she drew in deep breaths.
Hold on...
Her money pouch wasn't on her belt.
A thief.
She need not run long after the pickpocketer, for when she went around a corner, the man had tripped and fallen on his face. Sprawled onto the floor, as flat as a pancake. As Mira approached him, he whimpered.
"How very dare!" she roared, and grabbed him by the collar of his hood. She pushed him against the wall. Her free hand clenched into a fist, and it trembled; she wanted to punch the jack-rat, but at the same time, not. Self-control, Mira...
"I'm a- I'm so sorry..." the man — of vaguely elven features, she noted — stuttered and quivered. Her money pouch wasn't in his hand, but on the cobblestone, the coins were spilt out.
The singing folks stood further away, appreciating the situation. Mira thought they were more interested in the fight that might ensue rather than the money. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. Deciding to let the pathetic man go, she put the half-elf back down. He collapsed clumsily, flat as a pancake, on the floor. Mira wondered if she needed to expand her metaphors.
She kneeled and reached for her coins, never taking her eyes out of the man. When she spotted the thief lift his head and stretch his arm towards one gold coin, she smacked his hands away and felt the rage burning inside again.
"Oh no, no, no! I'm trying to help, you see," catching her gaze, he stood with a jump and bowed. "It was an awful mistake to try and rob the one and only Bromira!"
"Oh, please don't tell me you're my number one fan..." She muttered and scratched her head.
The onlookers seemed to lose interest and were now going about their night. Mr Thief, however, kept talking. He was giving her one of those smirks she loathed, "Wonderful work you did with that gooey beastly thingy, by the way. And again I must apologise for such loathsome behav—"
"Will you stop?" A deep breath, "Please?"
The man was frozen stiff when she said "stop" and looked at her wide-eyed.
"Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll go my way, and you go your way. Before I change my mind," she grabbed her coins and stuck them in her money pouch.
Mr Thief pointed towards the purple sign at the end of the street, "But wait! You were going there, weren't you?"
Mira stood and brushed the dirt from her trousers, "What if I was?"
"People come here for two reasons: play dice or get a drink. And they usually get a drink at The Purple Bear."
She quirked her eyebrow, "And who says I'm not here to play dice?"
"You don't seem the type..." Mr Thief came closer, and Mira glared at him. He took the hint and stepped back. He was still too close for her liking. "I saw two interesting fellows enter that inn. The type that pays handsomely for the quests they give out. But, I also saw some suspicious people going there. Big guys, with muscles and everything. They smelled like trouble."
Two fellows who give quests and pay good money? Must be "them".
And big guys, with muscles, that cause trouble? Mira had handled worse. Much worse.
"If they cause a ruckus, I can take them out in no time," back in her good mood, she cracked her knuckles.
"Need a hand? Or two? I can cause a distraction if needed."
"If they're just as good as your pickpocketing skills, I don't think you are much use."
"Miss Bromira, I'm a charmer by nature. I only pickpocket when desperate," he was smirking again.
She didn't punch the stupid smile out of his face. Instead, she settled for a strong pat on the back that made him stagger forward, "Well, maybe, if you promise not to be a nuisance. And if you know my name, then I must know yours."
"Han," he wheezed. "Call me Han."
"Nice to meet you! Now, don't call me Bromira."
Story: Ironden
Colors: Fool's Gold #3 (sleight-of-hand)
Supplies and Styles: Canvas, Pastels
Word Count: 1008
Rating: G
Warnings: N/A
Notes: Pre-Canon, featuring Bromira and Handriel Trays. This is how they met, basically.
Summary: Mira is to be given a job, and has to go to a very specific inn. She does not end up being robbed by a very incompetent thief.
Sometimes, Mira wonders about the way she got where she is.
She was walking along the streets of her hometown, Ironden. A town populated by humans. Well, mostly populated by humans. Some dwarves have made it their home over decades, and they are usually well-liked and respected in the community.
People like Mira aren't so lucky.
It was only after she defeated, all by herself, that strange creature that attacked the town. That creature that, when defeated, melted into nothingness, or it appeared that way to her. Only after that, she got the respect she longed for since she was a child. No longer a monster, Mira was a hero.
Yet, she couldn't lie, some of the words hurled at her in the past still wounded her.
Back to the present, Mira moved through the cobblestone streets, searching for that Purple Bear inn. "They" got her a "job", and she was supposed to meet them there. She didn't know who "they" were, or what the job entailed, but she was eager to find out. Always ready for an adventure, she was.
Mira observed her surroundings, a part of town she had only gone to once or twice in her youth — youth, she wasn't an old lady —, plus she didn't remember any inn by that name. Maybe it opened recently, or, when she did visit this place, she was too drunk to remember. She passed by a small group of scraggly-clothed men, drinking ale and singing bawdy songs; they were harmless. No one could be stupid enough to dare steal from or attack her; half-orcs are tough to beat.
At last, she saw, down that road, a wobbling sign painted purple. That had to be it. She scratched that nasty itch on her shoulder that had been plaguing her since the mysterious creature attacked and—
Someone bumped into her and kept running; didn't even apologise. Rude. Trying to calm herself down, she stopped and put her hands on her hips as she drew in deep breaths.
Hold on...
Her money pouch wasn't on her belt.
A thief.
She need not run long after the pickpocketer, for when she went around a corner, the man had tripped and fallen on his face. Sprawled onto the floor, as flat as a pancake. As Mira approached him, he whimpered.
"How very dare!" she roared, and grabbed him by the collar of his hood. She pushed him against the wall. Her free hand clenched into a fist, and it trembled; she wanted to punch the jack-rat, but at the same time, not. Self-control, Mira...
"I'm a- I'm so sorry..." the man — of vaguely elven features, she noted — stuttered and quivered. Her money pouch wasn't in his hand, but on the cobblestone, the coins were spilt out.
The singing folks stood further away, appreciating the situation. Mira thought they were more interested in the fight that might ensue rather than the money. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. Deciding to let the pathetic man go, she put the half-elf back down. He collapsed clumsily, flat as a pancake, on the floor. Mira wondered if she needed to expand her metaphors.
She kneeled and reached for her coins, never taking her eyes out of the man. When she spotted the thief lift his head and stretch his arm towards one gold coin, she smacked his hands away and felt the rage burning inside again.
"Oh no, no, no! I'm trying to help, you see," catching her gaze, he stood with a jump and bowed. "It was an awful mistake to try and rob the one and only Bromira!"
"Oh, please don't tell me you're my number one fan..." She muttered and scratched her head.
The onlookers seemed to lose interest and were now going about their night. Mr Thief, however, kept talking. He was giving her one of those smirks she loathed, "Wonderful work you did with that gooey beastly thingy, by the way. And again I must apologise for such loathsome behav—"
"Will you stop?" A deep breath, "Please?"
The man was frozen stiff when she said "stop" and looked at her wide-eyed.
"Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll go my way, and you go your way. Before I change my mind," she grabbed her coins and stuck them in her money pouch.
Mr Thief pointed towards the purple sign at the end of the street, "But wait! You were going there, weren't you?"
Mira stood and brushed the dirt from her trousers, "What if I was?"
"People come here for two reasons: play dice or get a drink. And they usually get a drink at The Purple Bear."
She quirked her eyebrow, "And who says I'm not here to play dice?"
"You don't seem the type..." Mr Thief came closer, and Mira glared at him. He took the hint and stepped back. He was still too close for her liking. "I saw two interesting fellows enter that inn. The type that pays handsomely for the quests they give out. But, I also saw some suspicious people going there. Big guys, with muscles and everything. They smelled like trouble."
Two fellows who give quests and pay good money? Must be "them".
And big guys, with muscles, that cause trouble? Mira had handled worse. Much worse.
"If they cause a ruckus, I can take them out in no time," back in her good mood, she cracked her knuckles.
"Need a hand? Or two? I can cause a distraction if needed."
"If they're just as good as your pickpocketing skills, I don't think you are much use."
"Miss Bromira, I'm a charmer by nature. I only pickpocket when desperate," he was smirking again.
She didn't punch the stupid smile out of his face. Instead, she settled for a strong pat on the back that made him stagger forward, "Well, maybe, if you promise not to be a nuisance. And if you know my name, then I must know yours."
"Han," he wheezed. "Call me Han."
"Nice to meet you! Now, don't call me Bromira."
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Mod hat on: please don't forget to tag your stories! I've added your author tag, but the rest are up to you.
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ETA: would it be possible to greate a tag called "color: fool's gold" and another called "story: ironden"? And to change the author tag to "author: scifirenegade"?