"Oi! You darned little-!" roared a brassy, commanding voice, sounding irritated and, at the same time, somehow quite amused. A fit of giggling erupted from the rooftop. Craning his head upward, the guard's eyes, shielded by his plumed helmet, fell on the two girls on the roof. Different as night and day, those two, and yet they were friends. He always wondered how that had happened. He shifted uncomfortably in the decorative armor he wore, baked by the hot sun. His foot was quite stuck, and in such a way it was impossible for him to un-stick it without removing his armor; which he couldn't do without rescuing his foot. "Let me go!"
The first girl's bright, cheery laughter rang in his helmet. She was like a small sun, bright as day, golden-curly-haired and amber-eyed, and cheery as a newborn babe. Sunny yellow was the color of her flowing skirt, and fiery red her loose blouse. She wore thick boots, loath to expose her small, pale, dainty feet to the dust of the summer road. "Not 'til you give us what we want, Devan!" she grinned at him.
The second girl had not joined in the laughter. Different as night and day indeed; for the sunny girl was day, and this one night. Black, straight hair fell to her shoulders, tied neatly in a ponytail, instead of flowing free like the first girl's. t just barely revealed the tips of her softly pointed ears, revealing that she was at least half, if not mostly, elf. Obsidian-black eyes were set in a well-tanned face, quite the opposite of the amber orbs that contrasted so brightly with the first girl's pale and beautiful face.
Devan sighed. "Fine," he agreed, and a hint of a smile hovered behind the background of his face. "Zena, you and Liyra really can be very stubborn, you know that?" He reached into his huge leather belt pouch and retrieved a very large tangle of extremely strong silk rope. Must be at least a hundred feet of the thin, sturdy stuff, though not all in one line.
"And the hooks, silly!" chided Zena, the sunny one. Devan sighed again, and produced a pair of steel grappling hooks. Zena clapped her hands, laughing. "Okay!" she said. "We'll let you down now." Then she paused. "Ummm.."
Liyra's palm collided with her forehead, in the classic symbol of 'great Pelor, must I do everything myself?' (though in all reality, she didn't worship Pelor at all- Liyra's faith lay with Ehlonna) and she raised an eyebrow at her friend. "Let me guess," she said dryly. "You have no idea how to get down, particularly not without breaking any nails or tearing your skirt."
Zena nodded guiltily. "Idiot," observed Liyra, who was dressed far more sensibly. Black leggings and a pale brown shirt made it easier for her to move, though she was better at most athletic things, and more flexible, than Zena anyway. Liyra was also barefoot, the soles of her feet probably harder than Zena's shoes, and still easy to move and run in. Liyra rolled her eyes and jumped off the roof, landing catlike on all fours before straightening, and raising another eyebrow at Zena.
"Pff. Show-off.." whined the girl. Devan smiled at her. He liked Zena better; Liyra had always rather scared him in an odd way. She dressed in dark colors, had dark eyes that made him want to run screaming when she looked at him just so. And that agility, that grace of hers.. he thought it was unnatural. "Fine, you untie me," he said to Liyra. She nodded, still fuming slightly at Zena. The girl took the tangle of rope and the hooks and shoved them in the leather backpack hanging on her shoulder. It was borrowed, actually.
Then Liyra turned about, made a strange gesture with her hand, and words escaped from her mouth- spoken in hissing Draconic. A force shaped roughly like a hand shoved Zena from behind, pushing her forward and tipping her down. Then it snatched the back of her blouse and slowed her fall sufficiently to prevent damage. "If I ever have to use magic to solve such a simple problem again, I will not deal with you anymore," Liyra said simply, and stalked away.
Zena blinked at her friend, bemused. "Uhm.." she managed, speechless with shock. Liyra was never particularly friendly, but she'd never done that before. What was wrong? Zena was interrupted in her halfhearted musing by Devan.
"Hey! I'm still stuck!" he complained. Zena blinked and hastened to unstick him. "Now I'm late!" he exclaimed, after glancing at the sun. Zena grinned cheerily.
"No problem! Lift your foot." He did so, bemused, and Zena put her hand underneath, complaining as she did that his shoes were dusty. "Now the other one." Devan complied, and Zena was now holding Devan up by his feet. His eyes bugged in utter shock. Zena was holding him up by his feet. He was in full plate, and she was holding him four inches off the ground.
Then Zena proceeded to scare the living daylights out of the guard when she lifted quickly and applied force, causing the man to go flying in the direction of his post, halving the distance he needed to walk as he sailed through the air with a strangled yell. "EEEEE!" Zena laughed good-naturedly in a guards-aren't-supposed-to-get-scared way, and wandered off in search of her nobleman father, because she wanted a snack.
"What?" A voice of utter shock erupted from the girl's normally not-very-silent mouth. "We're leaving Candlekeep?" Liyra looked completely bewildered at this news. What in the name of holy Ehlonna would make Gorion want to leave?
"Yes, dear child," replied Gorion softly. "We must leave as soon as it is possible to do." He was standing before her, on the steps of the Inner Keep, and explaining thi s entire thing thus. He handed her a large pouch, on a long leather strap that had quite a number of smaller, empty pouches besides. "Here is the gold I can spare you; equip yourself as you see fit. When you return, I have a gift for you."
Liyra nodded. For the moment, she was devoid of speech. So she spun on her heel and was gone. Literally. The moment she turned from him, she vanished into the shadows that the huge stone walls created, and was effectively invisible. How does she do that? wondered Gorion, bemused.
Liyra was off through the shades and shadows, and in minutes she stood before Winthrop's Inn. Reaching out a hand, she pushed the door forward, and stepped through. There stood Winthrop, behind his desk like always, with his many supplies and wines. And a ludicrous amount of weaponry. Winthrop liked to intimidate visitors, and make sure no bar brawls broke out. Plus, with that supply, he was making a lot of money now. He'd stockpiled steel weaponry, and the price for the stuff had skyrocketed recently. He grinned at Liyra. "Hey! Don't forget the 5000gp-worth book entrance fee!" he exclaimed, winking cheekily.
"Oh, shut up," snapped Liyra. "I'm in no mood for your mindless chatter. I want a sword." The barkeep blinked at Liyra in surprise. What had gotten into her? She had always been a quiet, rather humorless person, but today she was right snappish!
"Lighten up, Liyra dear!" he laughed, and led her toward his storeroom of weapons. She looked around, and her gaze promptly fell on two things, and two things alone. The first was a dark longsword. It was completely black all over, and marked down by hundreds for it. But it was wonderfully smithed. Unlike most appearance-sensitive knights who came through here with their assorted shiny objects and bags full of looted gold to let their assorted colorfully-garbed mages gape at the library, she had no care for sparkling, gleaming silver.
"I want that sword," she stated firmly. It was three and a half feet in length, exactly the right length for her, sheathed in a fine flexible wood-and-steel-woven fabric, dark in color. Winthrop blinked.
"Costs two hundred gold, m'dear, but I'll make it a hundred for you. Pay me that and it's yours." Wordlessly, Liyra opened the pouch Gorion had given her and counted out exactly one hundred coins of gold, and tossed them onto his table. Winthrop looked startled. He'd not expected her to actually have the hundred gold; he was just being nice. But now he couldn't go back on the offer. He picked up the sword, put it in the sheath that lay below it, and handed the two together to Liyra.
"Here you are," he said with a smile. "Anything else?" Liyra nodded. She had also spotted another thing. A long, dark-wooded shortbow, five feet in length, with a collapsing mechanism that would drop it to a two-foot bundle, and expertly crafted. The girl pointed to the bow.
"That." Winthrop blinked bemusedly at the girl. She was equipping as though to leave Candlekeep, not just practice with what's-his-name! Nevertheless, it was business for him, so he didn't comment. He simply picked up the bow, folded into compact form, and slid it into the shiny leather cover that had a strap to attach to a belt or similar strap. Before it was halfway in, however, Liyra stopped him. "I don't want the new leather," she objected. "Keep it. I want broken-in leather. It doesn't shine."
Yet more confused, Winthrop had nothing to do but waddle his large bulk around until he located a similar case, battered but quite serviceable, that lacked luster at all. He held it out, more or less rendered speechless by this point. Liyra nodded, and accepted it, sliding the folded bow into the case. "That is all," she informed Winthrop. "How much does the bow cost?"
"Uhm.. twenty gold, m-m'dear," he managed, looking awfully weirded out and confused. Liyra produced the twenty gold pieces and dropped them in his hands, before vanishing silently. Winthrop stared in shock at the space he could swear she had occupied a moment before. Liyra was in the shadows again. Darn her and her mysteriousness, he sighed, and waddled back to his work.