Dustwrought Origins Prompt #2: Foibles

Svaelfyr flipped through the pages of the leather-bound ledger he kept at the workshop's front desk. It wasn't the full official ledger, Svaelfyr was too worried about that potentially walking off, but it was the one that kept track of the shop business. "Yes, that should be everything. Everything in this order, packed and ready to go. When Rylen gets back if you two can deliver this order…they paid extra for that. I just have a meeting with another client." Svaelfyr trailed off and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"Oh, more work? You're getting popular."

"Sorry, an old client…they want changes made to their order. I was almost done with it too." Svaelfyr sighed and his shoulders drooped at the thought. "But it will be fine." He finally committed. "Rylen should be back in a few hours."

"A few hours?" C'zahra frowned. "I'll just take it myself." She shook her head thinking that waiting would be a waste of time.

"I just wouldn't want you to run into any trouble." He commented and looked from her back to the ledger. "Also wasn't sure how good you were with the cart. It'll be fine to wait."

"No, it's fine. I'll do it," she asserted and glanced out the front window. The pair of chocobo were stabled near the company cart, on which the goods had already been loaded. "Just help me hook them up."

Between the two of them it only took a handful of minutes to get the harnesses on the chocobo and prepare the cart. "Okay, I should be back in a couple of hours then." She said walking the birds towards the gate.

"Okay, well see you when you get back then." Svaelfyr waved her off as she turned out of the workshop's yard and climbed into the drivers seat.

Several hours later Rylen strode into the workshop a heavy bag over his shoulders. "Svaelfy I'm home!" he hollered and dropped the bag with a dull thud just inside the front door. "Oh, hello ma'am." He said as a prim lalafell marched past him. "Let me get that for you…" He added and grabbed the door holding it open for her. "Thank you for your patronage, come again!" He grinned and watched her exiting the yard before closing the door.

"I hope she never comes again." Svaelfyr commented staring at the now closed door.

"That bad huh?" He gave the hrothgar a heavy pat on the shoulder. "Okay what's this thing I have to help deliver now? Got all my laundry done." He extended a hand towards the bag threatening to spill over.

"Is that what you were doing?" The craftsman's brows furrowed then he shook his head not caring about the answer. "C'zahra took them since you were busy."

"Oh, sorry. When's she due back? We can all go out for drinks after to celebrate a couple of jobs well done!"

"Well let's see." Svaelfyr turned to look at the chronometer by the entrance and frowned. "Well that can't be right. She should have been back already." He scratched his head and peeked out the window to make sure the sky matched the time. "Huh?"

21. Solution

The sound of repetitive friction mingled with that of metallic instruments striking a hard surface. Svaelfyr’s workshop was busy, but aside from the commotion of the work being done, a surprising level of calm pervaded the room. Rylen and Svaelfyr were both quiet, focused on their separate tasks in their own corners of the space. The hrothgar craftsman was busy shaping the brass fittings for a commissioned dining table, while the highlander was working on components for a more personal project. He was (with Svaelfyr’s guidance) building a new weapon rack for himself.

“I feel like I’ve been sanding since the Sixth Astral Era.” Rylen muttered while he continued running the sandpaper block back and forth across the board’s surface. “Mmmhmmm.” Svaelfyr mused, unwilling to pry his gaze away from the components at his workstation. Squinting through his magnifying goggles, he turned the bit of metal over in his hand and used a small file to round out one of the imperfections. “Sanding, planing, filing... it’s an inescapable constant, I’m afraid.” “You’d think a machinist would figure out a way to speed this part up a little bit.”  Svaelfyr paused for a moment, considering his white lie carefully. “Not yet, as far as I know.” He figured it was better to let his friend finish the build the old-fashioned way (rather then letting him loose with any power tools just yet.) “Think of it as an endurance exercise.” Rylen snorted at that, then glanced at the back of the hrothgar’s head with a rueful smirk. “Well, I think I’m finally done.” Rylen used a rag to wipe away some of the sawdust before running his hand along the freshly rounded edge. “And that was the last piece. Do you want to take a look?” Svaelfyr hesitated for another pause before he shook his head and resumed his work. “No, I trust your judgment. If you think the pieces are sufficiently sanded and you haven’t missed any spots, you can move on to the next stage.” “Staining, right?” Rylen slung his rag up onto one shoulder and wiped his brow with the back of his hand. “Correct.” “Alrighty. So where’s the stain?” “It’s not mixed up yet, you’re gonna have to do that yourself.”  Svaelfyr turned to nod towards the jar full of vinegar and steel wool, with a tea pot sitting beside it. “And you can start by putting the kettle on.” 

14. Attrition

The partial collapse of the ruined tunnel had caught them by surprise, and the hrothgar’s reflexes weren’t quite quick enough to save his leg from getting caught in the fallen debris. Everything below Svaelfyr’s knee was pinned beneath the rubble, and no amount of struggling on his part (or pulling from the others) would set it free. With the imminent threat of afternoon rainfall flooding the passage, Rylen did everything he could to lift the fallen pillar off of his wounded friend.

There wasn’t any kind of pry bar in sight. He had to resort to getting his hands beneath one edge of the pillar and trying to deadlift just far enough to allow Svaelfyr to pull his crushed appendage free. But no matter how he tried to approach it, and regardless of all the strength he possessed, he just could not get the pillar to budge. After yet another failed attempt, Rylen cursed loud enough for it to echo off of the cavern walls. He then kicked at one of the pebbles and screamed another expletive, in defiance of Svaelfyr’s efforts to keep heads level. “One more time...” C’zahra waited out the highlander’s outburst and spoke in a cool, soothing tone. She had been crouched at Svaelfyr’s side, channeling healing spells into him that were constantly being undone by the crushing force of the fallen pillar. “Count to ten, get your breath back, and go again. We’re with you.” Svaelfyr had one arm draped over his eyes, wincing through bared teeth. It was all he could do to shut out the overwhelming pain as the shock began wearing off. His foot must have still been attached and intact, because he could sure feel the agonizing way its nerve endings screamed at his senses. Anyone can win in a fight when the odds are easy. Rylen did as instructed, pacing the edge of the chamber and breathing deeply to try and center himself. He used the back of his coat to wipe some of the sweat from his hands, then deliberately grabbed some piles of chalky debris in order to coat them in the fine sediment. It’s when the going’s tough, when there seems to be no chance...  “Alright...” He steeled himself with a sigh as he moved to get into position again. Squatting down low, he centered his balance and wrapped his hands beneath his end of the seemingly immovable object. His chest rose and fell with several more deep breaths, and he closed his eyes to try and concentrate. That’s when it really counts. Then, at the very last moment, the familiar warmth of restorative conjury began to fill his senses. C’zahra shifted her focus from Svaelfyr to him, lending her abilities to bolster his efforts. ”You’ve got this, big guy.”  Invigorated, Rylen clenched his jaw and went to work. Every muscle in his body tensed. His back strained to keep straight, and every ounce of power he could spare was devoted to driving with his legs. He ignored every sensation of protest that his body threw back at him, and strained with everything he had.  Even with the presence of the white magic to protect and repair his body, he could feel his consciousness begin to slip. His strained groan rattled through bared teeth and he felt the splitting sensation in his head. And that was when the pillar actually shifted a little bit. The sounds of trickling pebbles helped confirm it to be true. It’s moving! It’s moving! Rylen kept going, letting that motivation drive him.  He could feel his body breaking, and the way that the magic struggled to knit it back together.  Can’t stop now... with this momentum... this might be my last chance! Forgetting to breathe, he continued to strain with everything he had left. More... just a little more! And as a very modest reward for all of his efforts, the pillar finally lifted. Barely.

12. Miss the Boat

With the precious vessel in hand, Rylen frantically raced through the stone passageway, trying desperately to retrace the path they had taken on the way in.  Was it two lefts and a right or three lefts and a right? Mercifully the hallway was devoid of major obstacles, allowing him to focus on the all-out sprint to escape the threats persuing him. The crescendo of heavy thumping footsteps on the stone behind him didn’t make matters any easier.

After scrambling on the stone to round one last corner, the brilliant rays of daylight spilled through the dusty chambers, lighting the way to get outside again. Rylen burst through the opening into the light of day, revealing an expanse of carved stone, a massive balcony jutting out into the canyon beyond it.  A small airship hovered at the edge of the tone structure, with engines already firing and the its anchoring ropes unfastened. Svaelfyr was at the helm, and C’zahra perched at the gangway, holding onto the rigging with an anxious expression. Keeping to the instructions he’d given, the Embers had prepared for take-off, and the ship was inching farther and farther away from the platform already. Rylen had left his weaponry on board the airship, allowing for a little bit more maneuverability, even though his heavy armor still weighed him down. With every step that carried him closer to the ship, another sentinel rounded the corner, adding to the seemingly endless army in pursuit of him. To make matters worse, a couple more dropped down from above, landing with heavy impacts on the stone in order to try blocking his path. Rylen tucked the vessel more securely under his arm and kept running. He had no other options, knowing that the numbers would quickly overwhelm him if he tried to stop and fight them all head-on. He had to get a little creative with the last few enemies in his path. A juke helped him avoid one, and then a spin move to escape the grasp of another. One of them even got close enough that he had to reach out and keep it at arms length with a hard stiff-armed shove to its chest. And from there, it seemed like he was home free. Ignoring the way his muscles protested and the air burned in his lungs, he kept going, leaving the sea of cursed creatures at his back. C’zahra gripped hold of the ship’s edge and stretched out a hand, just as it became clear that the airship’s deck was more than a few yalms away from the platform edge. Time seemed to slow down as Rylen took the last few steps towards the edge. He was going to have to jump. At the very last moment, he made the judgement call to throw the vessel mid-step. It sailed through the air first, crossing the gap as C’zahra put her body in the way to stop it. A loud sound hissed through fanged teeth as she caught the heavy stone chest, letting its force and momentum knock her to the deck. Rylen himself pushed off from the ledge one heartbeat later, and fully extended his body as he reached out for the safety of the ship deck ahead of him. It felt like an eternity spent hanging in the air, and he could almost swear he felt his fingertips brush the wood of the deck. But it wasn’t enough.

7. Pawn

Rylen’s heavy armor rattled with each step as he led the charge through the crumbling corridors of the abandoned garrison. He kept his shield raised and his sword arm at his side, hustling at a brisk pace while trying to keep his eyes peeled for any obvious traps or obstacles along the way. Pixie sprinted along at his side, chakrams held out in outstretched arms that trailed behind her. Her rhythms had helped to enhance the group’s ground speed, helping to make up for their foe’s enhanced abilities during the pursuit. C’zahra and Svaelfyr kept up a few paces behind. Evidence of a long ordeal was visible on all of their gear, with scorches and rends marring the various pieces of armor.

The hallway opened up before them, revealing a widened chamber that trapped their fleeing target in a dead end. The hooded figure halted before the featureless stone wall, then turned to regard the party of adventurers that approached them. Rylen had no intention of slowing down, and lowered his shoulder in order to try and barrel into the robed figure, shield first. Before he could get close though, a wall of aetherically charged crimson flames shot up from the stone floor. The spell bisected the room, dense enough to repel the barrage of ranged attacks that the other three loosed upon their hooded foe. "Not another step, plundering filth...” A sinister, unnaturally enhanced voice called out from beyond the flames. “Oh would you give it up already!?” Rylen growled through a clenched jaw, pacing along the wall of flames and occasionally striking at it with his blade, to no avail. “You’re outnumbered and out-gunned.” Svaelfyr reasoned, while cocking his handgun or effect.  “All we want is the stone! Lay it down and you can leave here with your life.” C’zahra added, weary frustration evident in her voice. “Is that all?” The voice broke into a sickening laugh that echoed throughout musty chamber. Slowly the intense wall of flames began to recede. As the aetheric obstacle rescinded, the party was greeted by an entirely new sight. The hooded figure was joined by the presence of four new summoned companions. Quadrupedal creatures resembling carbuncles with bared fangs and much more hulking, feral figures. The companions were tinted an unnatural violet hue, with a smokey quality that billowed around their forms. “That’s new...” Rylen commented, readying up for the final clash that awaited. “Come and take it...” The foe taunted, closing his grimoire with an audible snap.

3. Temper

Rylen couldn’t help his persistent, excited grin as he marched through the crowded streets of the shopping district. His brisk pace betrayed his eagerness, and he almost bowled over several other market goers in the process. It was all he could do to keep from pumping his arms or actually skipping as he moved. He shoved the door to the metalworks shop with so much force that not only did the little bell jingle, but the door itself slammed against the inner wall behind it. Several patrons inside jumped with a start, but the hrothgar behind the counter didn’t seem anywhere near as surprised. Ignoring the alarmed looks he was getting, Rylen greeted the inhabitants with a loud and unapologetic, “Is it ready?”

Svaelfyr lifted his head up and adjusted his glasses, offering an impassive glance. Ignoring the question, he offered a very subdued response. “Ahh. Rylen. Be with you in just a minute.” His attention was then returned to the conversation he was already having with his other patrons. Rylen bit his lip, then moved to get in line. Even while doing so, he could not relax or keep still. It was obvious that his impatience and excitement was overflowing from within him. The man was all but vibrating while he waited. As soon as one customer left with their order, Rylen asked again, “Is it ready?” Again he was ignored, as the other remaining patron in line took priority. Again he had to wait. When he’d finally made it to the front of the line, he felt like he was about to explode. “Is it-” “Yes, yes.” Svaelfyr interrupted, dipping down low behind the counter for a moment. When he stood back up, he did so laying a long wrapped bundle on the counter before him. “Made the finishing touches this morning.” Before Svaelfyr could even finish speaking, Rylen dropped a sack of coins on the countertop and scooped up the item in question. The payment had already been counted out exactly. Like a child celebrating Starlight, he untied the twine and pulled back the parchment paper to reveal the sheathed blade waiting within. The wrappings were dropped to the floor, and Rylen immediately pulled on the pommel to reveal a few inches of the tempered steel within. An odd calm took over the room as he stared at the craftsmanship. His eyes widened, and the light from one of the windows reflected off the polished surface. Slowly he pulled the blade free from its scabbard and stepped into an open space. There wasn’t enough room to fully swing the blade, but he could at least test the weight of it. “You’ve outdone yourself, big guy.” Rylen commented, mesmerized.  “I aim to please.” Svaelfyr responded as he claimed the payment pouch and began counting the contents. “Though I’d appreciate it if you could avoid traumatizing my other customers the next time you decide to stop by.”

1. Cross

“Alright, let’s see the stance.” Rylen slowly paced around the newly constructed practice ring, keeping his eyes fixed on his pupil. Svaelfyr cricked his neck to one side before shifting to adopt a defensive position, balling his hands into fists. “Like this?” “Turn a little bit more.” Rylen corrected, “Get that left foot more forward, and your hands closer to your face.” Svaelfyr adjusted as instructed. To no one’s surprise, he was a very quick study.

“Better.” Rylen nodded, “Imagine biting the tips of both of your thumbs, that’s how close you want them to be.” “Do I have to actually bite them?” Svaelfyr asked with a frown. “No. Not today, at least.” Rylen chuckled, “It’s actually not a bad drill if you need to correct yourself though.” “Noted.” “Alright, so the first punch is real simple. The jab.”  Rylen began to slip on his leather striking pads. “You strike with your leading side, and keep your balance. So in this case, that’s your left arm. Nothing too crazy, just out and back, real sharp.” Rylen held up one of the strike pads and gave the Hrothgar a nod. “Alright, now jab.” Svaelfyr extended his arm and hit the pad as requested, keeping a focused look on his face. Though his form was a little shaky, there was clearly a lot of strength and potential there. “Jab. Jab.” Rylen got him to repeat the action several times, calling it out each time and getting an answer in the form of the punches that thumped modestly against the leather pad he held. “Next one’s pretty simple too.” Rylen proceeded, still circling the ring in slow pacing steps. “For this one, you punch with the other arm, the one in line with your rear leg. You pivot with your back foot, turn your hips, then your shoulders. You want to keep it quick and sharp like the jab while also putting more of your body into it.” “And what’s this one called?” Svaelfyr asked. “The straight.” Rylen answered, raising the striking pad for another drill. “Sometimes known as the cross.” Svaelfyr nodded and raised his fists, readily. “Straight! Straight!” Again, Rylen called out the punches, and Svaelfyr delivered them as requested. Soon enough the lesson progressed into simple combos. “Jab... Jab... Straight!” Rylen called it out over and over again, “Jab... Jab... Straight!” He kept it going until the lactic acid had started to build up and the hrothgar began to show his fatigue. ”Don’t tell me you’re tired already!” In the background, a very bored looking Zahra lounged on the sofa and turned over a new page in her book.

Happy Starlight from the Dustwrought Embers! https://fc-dustwroughtembers.carrd.co/

Dustwrought Origins Prompt #1 - Beam

It was late in the afternoon when a heavy, impactful thud tested the hinges of the exterior door to Svaelfyr’s workshop. Rather than an ordinary or deliberate sounding knock, it seemed more as if something large had just accidentally collided with the flat of the heavy wood paneling. The disturbance was immediately followed by slow, fumbling attempts to turn the brass door knob from the other side. With each effort, the handle stopped just shy of its full rotation before falling back into each neutral, resting position. A few more clumsy thuds followed (as well as some muffled swearing coming from the other side.) Eventually, the handle turned far enough for a discreet click and the door slowly creaked itself open. The familiar figure of a haggard and disheveled highlander then eased its way backwards through the narrow opening he’d just created. The reason for all the difficulty was revealed once he’d fully crossed the threshold. “I brought you a present.”

Svaelfyr, who had been deliberately ignoring all the commotion going on at his door, finally looked up from his workstation to witness the inevitable conclusion to his boisterous visitor’s grand entrance. His brows raised as his ordinarily unreadable features expressed a flash of genuine surprise and alarm. “Twelve above, Rylen. What is that?” The Hrothgar almost dropped his cross-pein hammer.  Hearing the heavy door close behind him, Rylen turned around to reveal the literal boulder he had just carried into Svaelfyr’s shop. At a size comparable to a prize-winning gourd, the hunk of rock had visible veins of a metallic grey mineral erupting from its outer layers of sediment. The struggling was kept to a minimum while the highlander just kept his back straight and his arm muscles tensed. His pride was undeniable, with a bright grin spreading from ear to ear. “Who knows!” His ignorance over his own geologic offering did not in any way diminish his enthusiasm. With a heavy grunt, the highlander trudged the last few steps and set the immensely heavy rock down on an open section of workbench. “Don’t ask me to identify rocks. I’m no geographist.” “That’s... that’s not...” Svaelfyr’s first urge was to correct the man, but he gave up on that futile notion almost as quickly as the impulse had occurred to him. Instead, he simply adjusted his glasses and moved around to take a closer look. “I’m not equipped to refine raw ore here... but that doesn’t mean this specimen can’t still be of some value.” Rylen didn’t seem deterred by the apprehension, opting to slowly pat the top of the rock like a proud father. His brilliant smile never faltered either. “Where did you say you found this?”  “I didn’t say.” “Well can you tell me now?” “Tell you what?” “Tell me where you found it.” “Ahh, in Dravania.” “I figured that much, but where specifically?” “Bout an hour’s ride north of Tailfeather.” “Near the mountains?” “It’s all mountains around here, Svaelfyr.” “No, I-... I mean, was it around any exposed stone formations, cliff sides?” “Oh, yeah. It was.” “Did you mine it yourself? I didn’t realize you had a pick.” “Nah I just found it.” “You found it?” "I did.” “Really? So it was just laying there?” “Sort of.” “What does that mean?” “It was laying there on the footpath, on top of a dead guy. Probably the miner who knocked it loose, judging by the gear they had on.” Svaelfyr hesitated, with visible concern having returned to his features. He opened his mouth to try and speak, to bring up any kind of response to such an unsettling revelation. He had nothing. Rylen just offered another merry smile before clapping the hrothgar on the shoulder and making his way back out into the side street he’d just come from.  “Okay, bye!” The door slammed shut behind him, and he was gone just as soon as he had appeared. 

Prompt 28: Bow

Rylen, C’zahra, Svaelfyr, Astraut, Rolph, Rex, and Daedaena. They were all present, and they had all been celebrating for hours. The assembled members of the Dustwrought Embers had been making use of the space on the basement level for a surprise nameday party that wasn’t even being observed on the correct day. That didn’t seem to slow them down one bit though.  After a lucrative couple of work-weeks, they were all in high spirits and ready to cut loose. Moogle-shaped cakes were eaten, ale was guzzled, stories were shared. Boisterous laughter erupted every so often, and no attempts were made at stifling the volumes involved. The hideout’s remote location meant there was no risk of disturbing anyone, no matter how hard or late they decided to party.

Sometime after the multiple karaoke rounds spent gathered around the orchestrion, Rylen pushed the last performer out of the way and took his place in front of the gathering, standing near the fireplace. ”Can I get a drumroll, please?” Rex happily obliged. Now in party-mode, his usual blue dragoon armor had been replaced by a swanky checkered waistcoat ensemble with a matching bowler hat. His enormous hands pounded on the the surface of one of the tables with a building intensity. Reveling in the momentary spotlight, Rylen held up his sloshing, recently refilled beer for the group, so that they could all see how full the tankard was. He then set it down on the nearest table and put his hands behind his back. It was time for his party trick. Keeping his feet planted, he bent his upper body forward and grabbed the lip of the enormous 2-pint tankard between his teeth. Once he was confident in the strength of his mouth’s hold on the object, he slowly began straightening his back again, lifting the mug up in the process. His head then proceeded to tilt back, and the contents of the drink spilled back into his mouth through the small gaps remaining. Huge, rapid gulps forced his adam’s apple to bounce up and down while he chugged the contents of that enormous drink. It took less than ten seconds for him to swallow every last drop of the foaming beverage, before he spat the tankard out and caught it by the handle on the way down. After a triumphant slam of the empty mug onto the table, he pumped both fists in the air and gave a weary-sounding battle cry for the group. “WOOOO!!!” His performance was met by a resounding chorus of... tepid, quiet clapping from the group. Their unenthused response didn’t seem to faze Rylen one bit though. With a little bit of the escaped foam and ale dribbling down his chin, he bent at the waist again for a deep bow to his audience. A much quieter “Woo...” followed while he stumbled across the room to find a nice place to sit down for a little bit.

Prompt #25: Silver Lining

“Oh.” The group stood around in a loose semicircle, staring at the smoking crater where their employer used to be. “The fuck happened?” Rylen slowly stowed his weapons, striding up to join the others. “They just ran in.” Svaelfyr said with a shrug. “Just ran in?” Rylen wiped his brow, giving his friend a bemused look. “That’s what I said.”

“Damn...” The highlander crouched down, peering into the smoldering pile of displaced dirt and scraps of viscera at the base of the crater. “Isn’t that your job? Protecting people from attacks like that?” C’zarha flicked an unimpressed glance his way. “They were supposed to just stay at the back and shoot their arrows.” Rylen countered, having to squint slightly when he glanced back up at the others. “How was I supposed to know they’d pull a stunt like that?” He rose back up again, squaring up as an argument started brewing. ”What about you lot? Did you not see them making the charge forward from the back?” That was when all three voices started bickering in unison, all making different accusations and spouting defenses at the same time. It was completely incoherent. Meanwhile, Astraut quietly made his way down into the base of the newly formed depression in the soil. He crouched down, using the end of his dagger to quietly sift through the few scraps of remains left behind. A focused scowl crossed his features while he searched, until the unmistakable glint of a red soul crystal peeked out from among the macabre debris. “Hey guys.” His voice cut through the arguments happening in the background, as the three other treasure hunters paused to give him their attention. Astraut held the stone a little higher, revealing the iconic symbol of a small harp etched into the side of the precious stone. A proud smirk lit up the elezen’s stoic features. “At least we have this.”

Prompt 23: Soul

"Hah! Looks like my beginner’s luck finally decided to show up!” Rylen sat back after dropping his final card on the grid, giving his opponent a chance to tally up the totals and confirm the results of the game. “Looks like... my seven and two there make nine, and then the five and four there make another nine. That’s a plus, right?” The garishly garbed Elezen sitting across from him furrowed his brow,  studying the board more intently. “It is...”

“And I think that means-...” “The combo goes into effect, yes.” The elezen tried to keep his expression measured, as Rylen swapped the colored tokens for several cards in a row, signifying the highlander’s capture of each of those additional cards. “Think I’m finally starting to get the hang of this!” Rylen beamed, looking down at the board. “Either that or I just got lucky, this ruleset is so hard to get my head around.”   He slowly slid the piles of coins over to his side of the table, savoring the sensation of ‘beginner’s luck’ that he’d just reaped the benefits of.  The two had been playing each other for several rounds throughout the night, and though Rylen had a strong selection of available cards in his deck, he had maintained the ruse of being a wealthy beginner who had very little experience to work with. As the hours went on, Rylen played one poor hand after another, making intentional mistakes and luring the boastful red mage into placing higher bets in anticipation of several guaranteed wins. He’d been wagering with his own coin, but was also using Svaelfyr as a stakehorse to help inflate the betting pool. On top of all that, Svaelfyr and C’zahra also helped contribute with multiple distractions throughout the night. They acted as a boisterous, drunken couple in the bar, alternating between various interruptions throughout all of the games. Sometimes they loudly laughed, other times they would break into huge fake arguments with one another. At one point they came over to spectate, making insulting comments about the two players and generally doing everything they could to set their ‘mark’ on edge. Though their attempts at acting and improv weren’t exactly theater-quality, their shy, fumbling efforts were effective in putting the red mage off his game. The mark in question was a regular at that particular Thanalan dive bar, one who often loudly spun tales about his daring exploits and unmatched dueling prowess. It was some one Rylen had always suspected of being all-talk, and this was the night where his group had put a plan into action. “Well, I’m still really enjoying this. What do you think, one more set? Best of three?” Rylen looked across the table as he thumbed through his hand once more.  "Of course, we’ll call this the last one.” The red mage reached up for a moment, nudging his floppy red hat up far enough to scratch the side of his head. He was visibly flustered, eager to get that pile of gil back on his side of the table. He knew the highlander had to have just gotten lucky with that last hand, and he could cash out and walk away the victor with much heavier pockets. “Not gil though, I already went all in last round. Shall we wager for cards?” “That’s hardly fair.” Rylen gave an amenable chuckle and tapped his nose conspiratorially. “Though you have the greater experience, we both know my cards fetch a higher resale price than yours.” “What then?” “I was thinking something more like this...” Rylen reached into his pocket and held up an amulet with the unmistakable design of a summoner’s soul crystal. The transluscent gemstone glinted in the light, with a subtle, swirling glow encapsulated within.  “What do you think, shall we wager mine for yours?” The red mage paled at the thought, swallowing hard as he considered the proposition. ”If your abilities are anywhere near as proficient as described...” Rylen tilted his head, watching his mark with a measured glance to mask the excitement rising within him. "You probably don’t even really need yours to fight with anyway.” What Rylen failed to mention was that his contribution to the bet was a replica soul crystal that Svaelfyr had helped him to forge. The red mage would never get the opportunity to look at it up close and figure that out, though.