[center][color=7ea7d8]=Gerald Dachayn : The Streets of Dasma=[/color]

As the day dwell onward, a sizable man trudged through the forlorn city, grasping some of the flesh of a recently deceased horse which stained his gauntlet dull crimson hue. The man quietly deposited the sun-baked meat into his satchel which was mildly swinging with each steady step. The festivities about ringed within his ears as he eyed the excitable crowd swiftly tread past the taller than average man who displayed a beam of interest within the jubilation. The mercenary heard of myriads of such commemorations, but never in his life was given first hand experience.

And of course, with inexperience comes a possible abundance of blunders. However, if the celebration consisted of familiar situations he partook in his journeys, then such a time would not come off as foreign to his eye. As the man continued to bask in the forlorn city, he pondered on where his next prospector possibly was. Altering where his gloved hands location was, Gerald began rubbing the scruff on his face as he studied the current district he was located in. Traversing to the side, Gerald was engulfed within the mild shade of a parched building that appear bleached to the common eye.

Exhaling mildly, the man extending a hand into his bag, the faint clinking of each flask could barely be heard with the sound of people chattering as they spoke about trivial matters that had little to no relatedness for the person he was wishing to make his acquaintance with... of course, with people talking about things such as faulty panacea's they bought, or the creation of forged parchment to enter some ball transpiring later tonight. [color=7ea7d8]"Hmph, no skin off my nose,"[/color] a gruff voice from the beaten armor spoke as he obtained papyrus which was slightly damaged from the elongated travel.

Unraveling the dull, yellow paper revealed a surface compromised of intricate writing, pleasant to the eye but perfectly legible so one wouldn't struggle in identifying each word. After staring the paper down for a couple of seconds, Gerald stuffed the item containing the nobles name back into the confines of his sheltered satchel. [color=7ea7d8]"Jessafel Tellath, an aristocrat seeking assistance; currently located in the city of Dasma, a.k.a the crowned jewel embedded within tiny grains of sand..."[/color] The man melded into the flowing group of people as he spoke about a possible employer. As he continued traversing the dusty paths, more people began mentioning inquisitive things, such as marriage of the princess to a prospective candidate. 

Gerald held no true curiosity within the affairs of nobles, running away from such a detrimental and banal lifestyle. The man could only muse on how anyone could be properly sane from being tied down by the shackles of corrupt politics and rudimentary lies. Despite not heralding any true interest, his mind held a dangerously stupid and obviously venereal assessment which he later dismissed as silly. [color=7ea7d8][i]"Attempting to possibly have an amour with the Princess would sow irreversible entropy within the hierarchy and would disrupt the balance of power between all the nations... even with the two Empires are betwixt with a mundane cold war could cause a possible escalation to conflict. That, and I'm not sure I can properly sneak in and bed her without having her incarcerate me... bah, why am I think about irrelevant things that don't pertain to the reason for relocating myself to Dasma?! I need to seek my future employer first, think about other reckless endeavors later."[/i][/color]

As he dismissed the notion, a smug smile crept upon the former aristocrats face as he was brought back once more to the rationale which gave light to what Gerald became. He didn't make it this far just by taking the sheltered route, so who else would define such a benevolent twist in his destiny other than fate?... However, it was most likely that he would not bed the Princess, nay, coming Queen, lest he was to lose his head in the witless operation. At this point in time as the dust began to pick up with the people gathering around, Gerald brought himself back to speed on what his current predicament was - locating Jessafel. Once he completed whatever arduous duty they conjured up, he would be free to think about recently read books, the current topics circulating around the capital, and just seeing the unknown landscape with his own eyes.

Eventually after some traversing around the forlorn area, Gerald came upon Kings Row where most commoners and merchants alike were congregating, spinning tales and rumors that were either familiar to Gerald's ear or contemporary to the man. Either way, the fascination with the trickling yellow was just as much interest to Gerald as the yellow teeth they sported. However he was certain that someone gleaned the information about the blue blood somewhere... Traversing up to the nearest merchant who appeared rather euphoric over the stream of customers practically giving the woman their coin.

Gerald practically started browsing her wares as she responded to people procuring goods that gave off the appearance of mysticism and reverence to the naked eyes. Of course, to others it gave off the air of fraudulence. Gerald did not distinctly care if the wares she sold were false or not as the man only cared about the information she had. Eventually she responded to the man with baubles and runes engraved upon stone. Gerald displayed no inherent interest in the petty trinkets and instead went straight to the point.

[color=8493ca]"Miss,"[/color] Gerald spoke, holding some curiosity in his eyes for reports on the noble. In an instant, her eyes lit up and she spoke for a few seconds to a minute while micromanaging other customers. She ended up talking about various objects she "found" in some distant lands that no one else could comprehend. Of course, as much as Gerald tried, he could not intercept her as the moment he attempted to converse with the lady, she attempted marketing her junk.

So Gerald just left her stand, sauntering away, much to the woman's displeasure who was practically begging for him to come back. Sighing, the man ruffled his hair for a bit as he tread over to the next vendor, getting the slight feeling that it was going to take a lengthy amount of time before accumulating the knowledge about where to locate Jessafel. But hey, who was he to argue? It only made it a tinge bit interesting since Gerald never really dealt with a situation with pesky peddlers... of course, he also knew that time was money and they were all depriving him of gold they could have if the transaction of information took longer than expected.

Of course, he could eventually take the imprudent route... I mean, that daring attitude got him to where he was today and it was going to certainly take Gerald to captivating new places, and riveting adventures.[/center]