On the rain-slicked cobbles of the busy marketplace, the gibbet looks starkly out of place.  The faded pennants and tattered banners, on the surrounding buildings, lend the scene a festive air, quite at odds with the grim angularity of the wooden structure.

Some of the people moving among the stalls are clearly uneasy about the incomplete framework, keeping their gaze averted from it, or making odd gestures if they have to pass close by.  Others seem less concerned about it, pausing to watch the men, dressed in the uniforms of the Cadiniagart military, still working on it.
This message was last edited by the GM at 08:35, Sun 13 May 2007.

Trista had forgotten the rains of only a short time ago; though in truth they hadn’t touched her with Berd as her traveling companion. Now the thunder rumbles an appropriate backdrop for her mood. Scenes from a black-and-white movie play out in memory as people are carted to their deaths.

Life hangs in the balance. Not her life. Not even the life of someone she knows, but somehow she feels the overwhelming urge to protect. Zane’s legacy lives on.

She strides quickly and assuredly, giving Berd an even ride. Trista suddenly becomes aware of Berd’s presence; she hadn’t given him the choice but simply left. Her jaw tightens, the only break in her blank mask of determination.


The woman continues to down the passages, her stride quickening as she enters the Market until her eyes land on the gallows, bringing her to a halt.
This message was last edited by the GM at 08:39, Sun 13 May 2007.

The dark man watched as the woman with the black hair and blue eyes enters the market. His eyes follow her as she looks for whatever it is that she is looking for.

But it was not the woman that had caught the man’s eye; it was the creature that sat perched on her shoulder. The man's head tilts to one side as he studies the drake. No, there cannot be two of them; at least he had not seen another like him in all the years since... It had been a long time... No! I'm not going to think about that now.

Was it a chance meeting? "HA!" The man laughs loudly in his own mind; There is no such thing as chance. What brought the both of them to this world, this market, at the same time... he couldn't say, but he doubted it was chance.

The man's head tilts to the other side as he adjusts his mind to what it once was, so that it feels like the mind that the creature would know. Then he reaches out with that mind... Not a trick he can do himself, but if the creature was truly the one he knew...
This message was last edited by the player at 17:24, Sun 20 May 2007.

They stare up at the gallows, and Berd's eyes glitter.  One of them seems to fade, vanishing into utter blackness, while the other begins to shine an odd, unfamiliar colour: a brilliant, clear blue.  Odd runes dance within that curious eye as Berd stares, and his ancient voice resonates for an instant across the bridging.

And this, too, was once mine.  So many symbols.  So many meanings.

Then his eyes bleed back to their customary state, one turning golden from azure, the other brightening to the same hue.


His serpentine neck swings his head around, and the burning eyes face the dark man across the square.
This message was last edited by the player at 10:06, Sun 13 May 2007.

Devlin steps closer to the woman, the serpent, and the gallows.


And then aloud he says, "And why is such a beautiful young woman interested in such an ugly thing as this?" he asks, indicating the gallows with one hand and exposing the black metal gauntlet that covers most of his right forearm.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:33, Sun 20 May 2007.

Trista, wrapped in her mournful memories, doesn’t simply stare at the gallows as a whole, she studies it in minute detail, contrasting it to the macabre tree from years ago. Both somehow hold court with devastating dignity. Both either hold the eye or demand retreat into silent prayers. Both have the strength to bear death.

Berd’s words over the bridging gravely ring and the woman solemnly nods. Shortly after the small dragon’s eyes leave that ancient thought, alarms go off and Trista’s body tightens. Her eyes lose the past and sharpen on the present.

Danger.


At Berd’s twist, Trista follows suit, her muscles slightly relaxing in the light of Berd’s obvious excitement for the newcomer. A dark man clad in black stands across the square. Trista’s curious eyes take in his lean form

Trista turns her body to face him as he steps forward and asks his question. The compliment, so casually included, does not go unnoticed. Her eyes climb the gallows before returning and landing on his unusual arm covering. There’s open curiosity in those storm eyes of the woman’s, but she says nothing.

Instead, she looks him in his black eyes, “Unfortunately, it holds memories I should forget, but of course, can’t. Someone here will be facing that thing soon.” She shakes her head, not wanting to say more in this square. Not aloud.

Her stance softens and her lips curve, “You must be Devlin.” She offers her left hand to him, aware his right may be awkward, “I’m Trista. Berd seems quite excited to meet you once again. And so am I… his moods are quite infectious.”

Berd remains seated upon Trista's shoulder as they move closer to Devlin.  His eyes burn, and he chirrups a welcome.


As Trista offers her hand to Devlin, Berd sits up straight, fanning the air with his wings.  His scaly lips peel back in a thousand-dagger smile.


The little dragon stares up at the gallows, and his eyes darken a touch.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:38, Mon 14 May 2007.