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[h3][b]Guillan- Market District, Dusk[/b]
[b]Y'Vanna-[/b][/h3]

     Y’Vanna made her way through the twisting paths of the marketplace with ease now as the people had all but abandoned theirs stalls and storefronts.  Windows and doors were being pulled closed and latched for the night. The last light of the day was upon as the sun now kissed the vast horizon of the sea, just before it would plummet beneath its waters.  Most of this light didn’t make it to the market, and the street torches were being lit.  That’s when she saw it.. The perfect market.  An elderly woman with a large basket under her arm, and a snotty little brat of a child tugging and pulling at the other. A slim grim fell upon her face and her pace quickened.  The hunt was on.  She knew to be mindful of the constables and the citymen lighting the pyres, but she was also a seasoned enough to know that hesitation was responsible for the knicking of many a picker, and there was no hesitation in Y’Vanna, or her will.


     She slowed once she got in closer, at a range that she could make her move when the pass was a go. The pads of her feet fell silently against the soft trodden earth beneath them. One last glance over the shoulder, her hand extended towards the basket.  She could see the strings and sash of the coin purse as it lay there amongst an assortment of vegetables and grains. Just as she did the young child, a girl, that she could see now tugged frantically at the woman, causing Y’Vanna’s hand to slap the basket.  Y”Vanna was frozen with shock as the woman and child both looked to her..  The woman’s face twisted with disgust.

[b][color=f7941d]“What are you on about, then?”[/color][/b] The woman shrilled with excitement.

     Y”Vanna barely heard the words as they rang out from her mouth.  This was hardly the smooth transaction that had played out in her mind just moments before. Stunned. Finally the words seemed to meet with the face before her, and her senses came to, one after another. Her brow furrowed and she had only a small moment to act upon.

[b] [color=f7941d]    “Oh feck it..”[/color][/b]  She said as her hand grasped the coinpurse. She clawed at the leather pouch so quickly that she almost swatted it from the basket entirely, and barely managed to get a couple of fingers around it..


     She took off running, swift like a gull on the winds of the tides. The woman left some paces back shrieked and howled, and the child followed suit. There were constables in earshot, this was certain, and before long she heard their whistler sound off, blowing hard and beckoning company. She cut at the nearest ally, the coinpurse tucked firmly under her arm now and she could feel its girth and weight. She could hear the heavy footsteps and chainmail as she rounded another corner. They were bigger and less agile than she, and it wouldn’t be long before they’d give up in their pursuit of her.  They were many in number, but if you added five of them up they’d hardly have the brain of a normal man.  Oafs, the lot. At least that’s how she had  always seen them. 

     It wasn’t long before she had outpaced them and she could no longer hear them nipping at her heels. A large crash and shouting noises verified their distance.  She chuckled softly as she slowed to a walk before finding a small cut to rest up in.  She knelt next to a small lodge, in between it and a shack just beside it. She pulled the purse out and rolled its weight between her fingers and palm. She undrew the string to reveal it’s contents.  3 whole coins and 7 bits, not a bad score.  Now she had enough to purchase some more dust from her fence in the slums. Gail was his name.  She hadn’t been in Guillan long, but she had taken acquaintance with Gail.  He was not the usual [i]dealer[/i], or [i]peddler of evils [/i]if that’s what you like.. He had always seemed a bit more gentle, and his kindness could hardly be masked. A very genuine fellow, be him odd, she thought.  He had always been fair with her, and she always tried to look out for him in return. She stopped along the way to pick up a fresh loaf for him. She liked to get him sweets and breads whenever she could. She made her way down into the slums. Cluttered hovels and shacks everywhere, one nearly atop the other. The smell of the bread was enticing, and fresh.  She couldn’t help herself and finally gave in, pulling a small piece off of one end.  She finally made it Gail’s hovel but he wasn’t home.  No matter.. there was still a bit of time to kill before she would implement her plan, and besides, maybe Gail would be interested as well,  for a cut of the action of course. She sat there patiently outside his door, waiting upon his arrival, as the cinnamon bread tickled her tongue. The sun had finally set, and the streets of Guillan were dotted by torchlights.