Truths Unearthed


 * Wildcat Haven - Crown's Refuge


 * Generally referred to as the "Old Quarter" by those that inhabit Crown's Refuge, the south-eastern region of the freehold - known as Wildcat Haven - is where the independent city deep withi the northern Wildlands all began. Although not central, the original wooden home of Talus Kahar XIV still stands as a monument within the south-western area of the region, dedicated to all that the late Emperor of another realm sought to accomplish.


 * Wide avenues and smooth-cobbled streets are the order of the day within the "Old Quarter", with the entire sector having been given over to various warehouses and service buildings. Thus it is here that one can find the local bath house (popular with the Syladris), the main Tavern (popular with the Humans), a small collection of Inns, a handful of trade stores, a number of warehouses and grain silos, and a myriad of other buildings and facilities dedicated to the logistical side of running a freehold like Crown's Refuge.


 * Although it shares much in common with Wolfbane's Row to the north, Wildcat Haven lacks the compact lattice of buildings and streets in favor of open spaces and breathing room, making it equally suitable for either Human or Syladris to traverse. Also unlike Wolfsbane's Row, more have been taken into consideration regarding the physical nature of the Syladris themselves, with most (if not all) buildings and services offering entrances, furniture, and enough space for anyone to take full advantage of what's on offer.


 * Avenues lead back to and from their respective pathways towards the north and west, while the perpetual elegance that is Tempest Spire ascends towards the heavens in the northwest.

Mareten is idly moving along, his armor creaking and a big heavy pack on his back. The young smith glances over at the bath house with a frightened glint in his eyes.

Her eyes bright and a merry whistle issuing from her lips, Zia strides into Wildcat Haven from the east, hands thrust deep into her pocket and a slight spring to her step. Damned be the weather and the time. Her spirits are more suited to a midsummer's morning, perhaps, than a frigid pre-spring evening.

Mareten glances up at the woman and gives her a short wave. "Ello." He calls out before looking around.

Zia returns the wave, heading in the smith's direction with a cheery greeting on the tip of her tongue.

It stays on the tip of her tongue.

Catching sight of the look on the young man's face, some of the merriment dies, and the whistle certainly does. Her brow furrows, and the greeting isn't quite as bright as it might have been. "Ai, evening, Master Mareten. Is something the matter?"

"Na.. just umm... first times Iz been back ya know.." The smith's armored shoulders shrug. "Soliderman Luckias say comes dis way.. Iz comes.. reckon goin a helps with somethin."

Zia sighs. "Ai, I can't say I do know," she says, softly. "Never having . . . never having done what you've . . ." She trails off. Grasping the horrors that come from battle are sometimes unreachable, to those who haven't been in one before. "This doesn't have anything to do with- with Eliare, does it?" Her tongue stumbles a little over the name.

Mareten shrugs. "Iz aints know nuffin. Just was says to comes dis way." Mareten scratches his beard and nods. "Ayup.. hopes it aint nuffin likes dat."

"Light, no," Zia mutters, glancing about at Wildcat Haven. "I wasn't there, but I saw enough, aye?" Another sigh, and she folds her hands together behind her. "How long ago were you called?"

"Eh, reckon was this mornin." Mareten replies with uncertain shrug. The smith rubs his beard and looks around the part of low lazily. "Whats ya doins arounds here?"

"Ai. You've been out here all day?" Zia asks - but it's more of a rhetorical question than anything else. Chances are, if he arrived this morning he's been out here all day, yes. A light smile plays about Zia's lips at the question, and she glances quickly at the smith. "Do you want the honest answer to that, or the convincing lie?"

"Ayup.. allz day." Mareten cocks a brow up and he grows a tad confused by the response. The smith looks the woman over for a moment then shrugs. "Umm.. both?"

Zia grins. Concocting a lie and a truth gives her something to think about other than Eliare, and what mayhem he might cause. "All right," she says. "Then I'll say that I'm either out here on a very important business transaction, or I'm here for the fun of it, because I didn't feel like doing what I probably should be."

"Well umm good for ya either way." Mareten says with a bit of a smile. The smith pats his armor for a moment then looks around once again. "Dere a place Iz can sends some letters arounds here?"

Half a smile is better than a frown, a whole smile better than a half a smile. Feeling that she may have accomplished -something-, even if it has nothing to do with erecting a pantry, Zia glances around. "I . . . I have no idea, really. I could tell you where to find a courier in Fastheld - half a dozen if you'd like - but I don't know the Refuge as well."

"Ayup, well Iz gets Soliderman Luckias to helps writes some. Should tells some folks Iz aints gonna be founds for some days." Mareten replies.

"No?" Zia lifts a brow slightly, and she pauses a moment. "I've delivered letters before, and if you wrote them up I could take them back to Fastheld, when I go. Who are you writing, if I might ask?"

"Aints right em yet. Just ta umm a few Nobles pokin around me works, en umm.. some.. folks Iz knows." Mareten stammers out, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

Zia's had some experience in the past with reading people, and she thinks she can hazard a guess now. "One of the nobles being Varal Mikin, aye? You work for him? And . . . I'll be sure to let Muri know, aye?" She smiles lightly. "Anybody else I should tell? And anything else you'd like to say?"

Mareten raises a brow way up and coughs. "Ummmmm..." The young smith fidgets and looks down at the floor.

Zia watches the smith carefully, affirming her guess. "Aye, then," she murmurs, half to herself. "I thought so. She'll worry, though, so don't get yourself hurt, aye? Is there anything else you'd like me to say to anyone?"

"Na..." Mareten replies with a slight nod. "Thanks ya." He murmurs a moment later.

Zia nods. "All right, then," is all she says, and then she looks away, down the long, cobbled streets of the Refuge. Enough's been said, and she lets the subject drop. She isn't -really- the type of person to go for torture. Really. (Well, usually, depending on who's getting tortured). "'s beautiful, the Refuge, isn't it?" she comments vaguely.

"Kind of." Mareten shrugs and looks over at the baths and shudders. "Reckon Iz shoulds goes looks for me boss man."

Looking back to the smith, Zia follows his gaze to the bathhouse, and wonders what's so terrible about it. From the outside, it looks like any other bathhouse she's seen. "Aye," she agrees. "Probably." The bardess starts off down the path, and pauses to glance back over her shoulder. "Mareten? I was serious when I said not to get yourself hurt, aye? Take care of yourself." She turns again, with a small wave. "Light's keep."

Mareten nods his head. "Ayup.. Iz tries nots ta. Thanks ya." The smith bobs his head. "Lights watch ya." He murmurs then starts up the street.

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