pre-session 1: nayeli
Mar. 8th, 2018 09:04 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rechainingDevyn had been in Carcallon for some time, gleaning information, doing their work. A small attic room was hers, a place to hide their small amount of belongings while they watched and waited. Their presence had been requested to keep an eye on the growing tensions between a few of the upper echelon - then word came by letter of the growing threat along the coast.
Sarevok.
The name was enough to get heads turning when asked. Devyn never bothered to be so obvious. Whispers in corners of taverns allowed enough information to flow long before they ever needed to know the man's name. He was a terror, raiding towns, driving business to a screeching halt. Seafarers and nobles alike were frightened; farmhands out in other hamlets were beginning to roll into Carcallon for sanctuary, soon to move on, afraid if they waited too long, they would fall to the man wanting to call himself the new Lord of Murder.
With care, Devyn penned careful letters and saw them off during the day. Kept up their typical work, rubbing elbows with nobles and sharing their heated concerns. At night, they kept to inns and taverns, playing well into the evening for a meal and coin.
Tuning the lyre between playing, Devyn's eyes flicked up as a shadow fell across their chair. "I take requests for a silver," they murmured. "But it's usually at the discretion of the hostess."
Sarevok.
The name was enough to get heads turning when asked. Devyn never bothered to be so obvious. Whispers in corners of taverns allowed enough information to flow long before they ever needed to know the man's name. He was a terror, raiding towns, driving business to a screeching halt. Seafarers and nobles alike were frightened; farmhands out in other hamlets were beginning to roll into Carcallon for sanctuary, soon to move on, afraid if they waited too long, they would fall to the man wanting to call himself the new Lord of Murder.
With care, Devyn penned careful letters and saw them off during the day. Kept up their typical work, rubbing elbows with nobles and sharing their heated concerns. At night, they kept to inns and taverns, playing well into the evening for a meal and coin.
Tuning the lyre between playing, Devyn's eyes flicked up as a shadow fell across their chair. "I take requests for a silver," they murmured. "But it's usually at the discretion of the hostess."
