Young Writers Society

*Oooh. Is something interesting going on at Fallacre? Can't wait to find out...now on with my characters. And yes, Gwen is not first for a change.*

Christophe:

I arrived at the outskirts of Westhaven later that day. The place seem quiet until I reached the market square and saw a pretty girl who looked a lot like my sister slip down an alley. I pulled the wagon to a stop, confused.

Was that her? I shook my head and climbed down off the wagon to find someone to talk to about setting up a stall. No, it couldn't be her. Gwen--no, Morwenna... She hadn't look so worn down last time I'd seen her.

I sighed and wandered over to a helpful young man. I hadn't seen my sister in three years.

"Hey," I said to the young man. "Can anyone set up a stall here or do they need to ask for permission?"

Gwen:

I went back to Brandon's room the next day. On my way, I saw a wagon pull up in the market square. The man who climbed down from it looked a lot like my brother, Christophe... Was he crazy enough to look for me? I thought and noticed him watching me. I quickly rushed down a dark, damp alley.

I shook my head and took the back way to the inn. No, it wasn't him. No one knew where my brother was.

I slipped into the inn, ignored the looks I received from the inn keeper and rushed up the stairs and knocked on the door to the painter's room. He opened it almost immediately and I rushed past him into the room.

"What's wrong?" he asked as I raced over to the window and pulled the shutters partly closed. I glanced back at him and sat down in a nearby chair. "Gwen?"

I took a deep breath and looked up at him. "I think I just saw my brother in the market square," I whispered. "He's not supposed to be looking for me..." I sighed and wiped at my eyes, suddenly realising that I was crying. "God, is he stupid or something? We're not meant to...to even know where the other is! We're...we're... Oh lord."

Brandon looked alarmed when I looked up again. I sighed.

"Gwen," he asked, "Whatever do you mean by this?"

Jane

Jane was quite anxious to find more younger company. Some people to relief her from the dreadful encounters with bickering old ladies. Jane was actually very bored of these things, the quiet of her room was good enough. She followed her friend inside.

"Oh, yes, I shall do that then. Do you mind me dropping by, tomorrow? I can only come after eleven, though, I have youngins to take care of before." She nodded as she appeared to move to her kitchen. It was a very delightful home, Jane noticed, and gave Charlene a gentle smile. She politely declined the tea request.

"I must take my leave, it is quite late." She waved her friend goodbye and was on the road to get home. She soon reached it, and after the wonders of a quiet family dinner, she rested on her bed.

***

She made her way out of of Mrs. Jennings house. She had taken care of the twin sisters, Charlotte and Clarisse, that morning. They had very different characters, even if somewhat alike lookings. Well behave, nonetheless. She passed by a man int he horse who seemed upset or something of the sort. Driven by her nice personality, Jane turned to ask, "Are you looking for someone?" He did seem like searching the streets by the corner of his eye. She could do one good thing before reaching Charlene's, could she not?

*I'm gonna make her brother later*

Christophe:

"Are you looking for someone?"

I looked towards the person who had spoken. It was a girl. She had light brown hair and sophisticated air to her.

"Erm, yes," I told her and looked towards the alley. "I'm looking for a young lady by the name of Gwen Sable."

The girl frowned for a moment and then her eyes lit up and she smiled.

"Why don't you try the bakery?" she said an turned to walk off.

"Wait!" I called out and she turned back to me.

"Yes?"

"The bakery?" I asked, watching as she frowned. "Anywhere else?"

"Um," she said, thinking. "You could try the artist's room. She might be there. I saw her sneaking off towards the Inn yesterday. I don't think she realised that anyone was watching her." She pointed towards a low building just up from the alley I'd seen the girl disappear into. "That's the bakery. And I'm Jane. Would you like to come to a ball?"

I stared at her. "Ball? What Ball?"

"The ball my father will be holding soon."

"Oh, err... Yes," I said. "I would love to come."

Jane grinned at me. "So, what's you're name?"

I hesitated. If I said Sable would they link me to Gwen? I was sure now that Gwen was my sister... And she was seeing an artist? Whatever for? Apart from the obvious. I sighed.

"Christophe Sable, at your service," I said and bowed. "Merchant and Gypsy." I clamped my mouth shut, startled. Why had I said that?

"Sable?" she said, frowning. Then she gasped. "You're a Gypsy? Tallow must hear this!"

"Wait! No!" I said but Jane was already running off somewhere. I swore and kicked one of the wheels on my wagon. Damn my slip up!

But there was one thing I had learned from that little conversation. Gwen was really Morwenna and my sister. I had finally found her. She was actually here!

*Wow. This is the most I've written for Chris so far, I think... Hmm...*

Brandon

The night had gone by rapidly, a bit too rapidly he had to say for he left his eyes had closed for just a minute. But that little time spent with his eyes closed, was enough for him to feel his body rest. He woke up early in the morning, quite a habit he had had since he was just a child. The morning light was beautiful, excruciatingly beautiful, it had such mystery in it that it made his whole being feel magic in it.

The room was exactly the same as he left it, the paintings, the brushes, the table everything, but she was missing. While he was picking his brushes and colors, a knock on the door distracted him. For some reason he ran to the door as fast as he could, maybe because he was expecting her. And yes it was her but there was something different in her. Gwen rushed to the window and closed it and when she turned around, there were tears in her eyes. It was a sad picture to see, it was sad to see such lively eyes look so dark now. He asked her what was going on, but she answered him with confusing rants, rants to which he could only understand the last part.

"What do you mean by that?" He asked her.

"He-he-he can't know where I am, it's too dangerous. Oh God! I can't believe he's doing it." She said, wiping away her tears. " I can't believe it! I thought he was more intelligent than this" Gwen continued.

"Gwen, Gwen, calm down for a minute, can you? What's going on, Gwen, what's happening?" Brandon said getting closer to her and putting his hands on her shoulders.

"we're gypsies" She said.

Charlene
Jane left late at night, but early enough to give Charlene some space to rest and get ready for her busy day. Jane said she was coming again but now that she had taken some rest, she could go with her to deliver the invitations.

The morning was clear, not too much sun and heat which meant it was a good day to go shopping for fabrics and things to put on a dress, Jane's dress to be exact. Even thought Jane belonged to an unreachable class for her, she considered Jane her friends, well, years and years of working for her had done something good.

Unlike the day before, the market was peaceful, not too many people and not too many people shouting and yelling .Even though the day had been great yesterday, she had to accept that calm and silent places where more of her thing than big crowded places.

Gwen:

"Gypsies?" Brandon asked, watching as I swiped at more tears.

"Yes," I said as calmly as possible. "But my brother is here! He's not meant to be! Oh lord, he'll get us killed! That darn tyrant must be looking for us!" I dried my eyes and sighed. "We're in so much trouble..." I moaned.

"Wait, Gwen. Calm down!" Brandon said and shook me gently. I looked up at him and sighed. "Please explain to me what you mean by Tyrant, trouble and Gypsies. Is there something you're not telling me?"

I took a deep breath and looked up at Brandon. "Oh alright," I muttered. "But what I tell you must not leave this room." He nodded so I continued, "My brother and I are Gypsies. i'm sure you know what those are." Again Brandon nodded. "Well, we're not just any old Gypsies. My brother and I are the children of an old Gypsy King. He was murdered about three years ago; I'm sure you heard rumours about that."

"Oh, the whole country heard about that," Brandon said and then fell silent, letting me continue.

"Yes, well," I muttered. "The man who killed him has proclaimed himself as king and is tracking down the remaining memebers of our family--unfortunately that's just me and my brother. Which is why it's so bad for him to be finding me. One wrong move and the tyrant will find us and kill us all!"

Branon swallowed and stared at me. "You mean...the whole of Westhaven?"

"Yes," I said and started crying again. What was wrong with me? "He-he can't find me."

"Okay," Brandon said slowly. A moment later and there was a knock on the door. "Who is it?" he called out.

"Um," said someone on the other side of the door. "I was told I could find Gwen Sable here if she wasn't at the Bakery."

I grabbed Brandon before he could move to answer the door and whispered in his ear; "That's him. That's my brother. Please don't let him in."

Name:Stephan Norwood

Age:21
Gender:Male
Occupation: His father is currently training him to take over his business, though his true call is the militia. He likes to practice with swords and to defend his country.

Location: Westhaven
Appearance: He is rather tall, and well built, with a solid construction (meaning muscles). He has soft light brown hair, darker than his sister's, and he has green eyes, unlike his sister.

Spoiler

Personality: He is very light and easy going. He is very humorous and is almost always playing. He can be very serious at some situations. He is very loyal to his people, and is not so much of a dreamer like his sister. He has his boundaries and good sense of responsibility, though she keeps those hidden.

Other: Up for love. He has a scar on his right arm, wound from a sword accident.

Stephan
Jane had left the house very early. He could not see how she managed to do so. Stephan was definitely not a morning person, for he had only bore to go outside when the clock hit eleven o'clock. Why was the sun so damn shiny all the time? He walked quickly towards the market, he was to meet someone there.

*ScarlettFire, could Christophe and he be good friends?*

Jane
Jane turned around. What was she going to tell Tallow? Why had she even thought of it! She turned around on her feet and moved to the man to apologize, though he was out of sight now. He sounded like a good person. Well now, she hoped Charlene knew this person or at least his sister, or maybe it was his wife.... So that she could deliver the invitation. She had asked him to come, but didn't give any details.

Moving quickly to Charlene's house, she knocked on the door. No one answered. Where would she be? The market, yes, should be a place for her to search for her friend. She moved, starting to feel a bit tired, and reached her friend. "Good morning, Charlene. Where to?" She asked quickly. Her friend seemed to be done with the shopping.

*Sure. Just remember that Christophe is meant to me on the run, so this would mean that Stephan is also in danger, along with the rest of his family... Trust me, the guy after Chris and Gwen is one nasty piece of work... >.> Does Stephan know about Chris's past??*

Peter

Though he was suspicious, Peter let the man into their small farmhouse. The small kitchen was cold, as they had been gone all day. He instructed Ana to light a small fire in the heart which she did reluctantly.

"So who are you exactly?" Peter asked, sitting across from the man at the small round kitchen table.

"My name is Tallow, I'm a troubleshooter for the mining company up in Hollsworthy Hills," he explained.

Peter nodded. "And you want what with my farm exactly?"

"It is no secret that your farm is in trouble," Tallow said. "I'm here to offer to speculate the land, and if it proves to be something the company wants then I'm prepared to offer you money for it."

"I see," Peter said. He thought over the offer for a moment. This farm was his, actually his. His family hadn't owed money on it for years and years. His parents had owned it, farmed it, and made it successful. Could he give up that sort of history?

Ana coughed loudly from where she stood at the doorway that led into the small sitting room.

"Let me consult with my sister," Peter said. He stood up and started towards the door.

"If you don't wish to sell, I am also prepared to offer you a position at the mines," Tallow called after him.

Peter nodded and continued out of the room. Ana pulled him as far away from the doorway into the kitchen as she could.

"You can't sell the farm!" she insisted, her tone hushed. "Mother and father lived here! We can't just give it up because we aren't doing well!"

"Calm down, Ana," Peter said. "I'm not going to sell. At least, I don't think I am. I...I have to think about it."

"Peter! How can you even think about something like this!"

He grabbed her by the shoulders and moved her into a sitting position on top of a wooden chest. The chest distracted him; it was his mother's. It was always locked, they didn't know where the key was, but it held some of their parent's most prized possessions. Everything they considered dear. Peter sighed. He couldn't sell the farm.

"I won't sell," he told Ana. "But he's offering me a job up in Hollsworthy Hills. We could use that money."

"If you go, what will happen to the farm?" Ana asked.

"You could keep it running, couldn't you?" Peter asked. "You could hire some cheap farm hands to plant and harvest. Maybe you could invite Charlene to stay with you while I'm away."

"Peter..." Ana looked up at him, tears brimming in her eyes. Ana was never one to cry, never. Not since their parents disappeared.

Peter walked out of the room, and back into the kitchen. Ana would be upset, he had known that. Maybe he could pay to board her somewhere in the city, and he could go work and return when he had enough money to keep the farm going. He could let the animals go into the woods nearby, they would be fine and they could round them up when he returned. Ana could take her horse and Peter could take his. It could work out perfectly.

"Tallow," Peter said, sitting back down at the table. "I won't sell the farm, but I will accept the position at the mines."

When he finished speaking, he heard Ana's footsteps pouding up the small staircase to where her bedroom was. Peter's heart sank, but he knew it was for the best.

*sorry that's so long!*

I made a DT (discussion thread) here so we can chat about the storybook or just stuff.

Charlene

So Jane had found her,she wasn't lonely anymore, bored with so much shopping for fabrics and things to make dresses.

"I just bought somethings for your dress, Jane" Charlene said with a smile on her face, a smile that she very well knew was contagious, especially to those ones who she thought were her friends.

"Oh, that's wonderful. I'd love to see it" Jane said with great eagerness. Well, now Charlene knew it was better for her to keep somethings to herself for it might ruin the surprise. The ball was near and the gown had to be perfect, but Jane couldn't know.

"Yes, you will, but we have to deliver the invitations" Charlene said as she guided her friends through the market and to the local shops and houses where some of her friends lived. "Well, we can try the bakery, there's Gwen there"

"Gwen, Gwen sable?" Jane asked. " There was a young man asking for her earlier, a gypsy from what I got"

"A gypsy?" Charlene exclaimed. "Well, that's...weird, I didn't know Gwen had any acquaintance with the Gypsies." That made Charlene wonder, she Gwen as the bakery girl, how come some gypsy was looking for her? That was dangerous, not only for Gwen but for the whole town.

"Le't s go hand this in" Jane said eagerly, distracting Charlene from the distant memory she had of the gypsies.

Brandon

"Good morning, mister..." Brandon said when he opened the door. He couldn't let the man or actually young man in, for it would have been the end of both him and Gwen.

"Cristophe" The young man said. They looked alike, there was no possible way in which they could say they were not brother and sister. They had similar features and their dark eyes showed the same mystery with the only exception that the strength of his stare was excruciating.

"I was told that a girl, Gwen Sable, came here and I could find her here." Cristophe continued, looking past Brandon, trying to see if there was any trace of his sister.

"I'm so sorry, mister, but I haven't I know no girl with such name" Brandon said, trying to sound polite and convincing. He wasn't a good lier but her had to try his best or Gwen was going to be put in great danger.

"Oh, but..." Cristophe started before Brandon interrupted him.

"I'm sorry mister, but I have some work to do. If you need to find her I would suggest you go to Tallow, but for now mister I can not help you." Brandon said, but he noticed how Cristophe flinched at the sound of Tallow's name. Of course, they were gypsies, Tallow never allowed gypsies to stay at Westhaven for he knew it was too much of a danger.
So Brandon closed the door and went back to Gwen who was sitting in the couch with her head in her hands.

Tallow

He nodded - this waqs, really, what he'd expected, right down to Ana's reaction to her brother's new job. It wasn't likely that the farm had much of obvious value underneath it, except possibly some obscure magical details that the chairmen might be interested in. And those could wait for another day. The more immediate shaft seven problem was as good as solved, at least temporarily. The boy would work hard; paid miners always did, and that would make up for two, maybe even three of the indebted workers they had lost.

"If you wish," Tallow said, standing up from the table, "The company can spare some funds to help your sister run the farm."

Peter eyed him warily, picking up on the possibility of being lured into debt. "I don't think so," he said slowly, his tone calm, but with a hint of warning. "Ana and I can find all the help we could need in Westhaven."

Tallow shrugged, understanding. The farmer was smarter than he had expected. If he could find any more replacements, perhaps Peter would make a worthy assistant. The high pay would probably be enough to entice him into a temporary position, staying on until Tallow was reassigned to another mine.

"You'll start tomorrow, then." He replied, "Report to shaft seven upon your arrival. Living arrangements will be taken care of, unless you'd prefer to travel to and from the hills on a daily basis. That's your affair." He stopped at the door, glancing over his shoulder. His dark green eyes fixed on Peter's, measuring his worth. "One last thing. Do you happen to know any information as to what took palce at Fallacre? Or, perhaps, the whereabouts of the gypsies in Westhaven?"

Common speculation was that Tallow's immediate superior at Hollsworthy viewed the gypsies as thieves and pests, and wished to keep them well away from his lucrative operation. A select few, Tallow included, knew the truth, and had standing orders to bring in any gypsies they could find. After all, their hidden royalty was a severe threat to the man Gibson and Mills had, alongside various other powermongers in the region, helped to put on their throne.

Why the chairmen wanted information on the abandoned village, however, was a mystery even to Tallow. And that made him uncertain about going there. He had faced enough horrors in the mines, and would likely have to face more soon. If his employers were cagey about the truth of that village, though, he would have to treat it with even more care than the tunnels.

**I've got no idea what to post for Joseph just at the moment, so that will have to come later.**

Gwen:

I heard my brother asking for me and it broke my heart not to reply. How could I when we were both in trouble?

I buried my head in my hands and tried not to make any noise while Brandon talked to him and sent my brother away.

I heard footsteps and looked up to see Brandon standing there watching me.

"That was hard to do, wasn't it?" he asked and sat down next to me.

I nodded and looked down. "Yeah. We were close back with the caravan. After...after our father died we sort of drifted apart." I sighed.

Christophe:

I turned away from the door and went back downstairs. So the artist was a dead end... Or maybe he was lying? No. My sister was here somewhere.

I shook my head and left the Inn, heading back to my wagon. There wasn't much point in looking for her. My sister would find me.

And why had he mentioned Tallow? I sighed and looked up. Someone was waiting by my wagon... Was that Stephan? I groaned. Was he crazy? What if Tallow saw us together?

Resigned, I joined him at the wagon.

"Stephan, is that you?" I asked.

Peter

He shook his head. "No, I don't know anything about gypsies. And I wouldn't go messing around with that village. Strange things are said to happen there."

"Do you know of these strange things?" Tallow asked.

"No," Peter said abruptly, barely waiting for Tallow to finish. "Not personally. We've all heard the stories, though. Deaths, disappearances, strange creatures. I'm sure it's all a legend. The town just failed and people moved on to a more prosperous place."

Tallow nodded and started towards the door. "Well don't forget to report to the mines tomorrow." He left the farmhouse and Peter waited a few moments before going up to Ana's room.

Ana

She couldn't believe Peter was going to do this. Working in the mines? They had all heard the horror stories about those mines! How could he leave her? How could he leave the farm? Their parents farm.

"Ana?" Peter asked, knocking softly on the door.

"Go away," Ana said.

Peter came in anyways. "Ana, I'm sorry, but we have to. Now I want you to go into Westhaven and ask Charlene if she will come stay with you here while I am gone, unless you want to stay in town in which case you'll have to help me let the animals loose. Try to find some cheap farmhands while you are there," he explained.

"You aren't even giving me a choice?" Ana asked.

"No," Peter said. "Now go."

Ana glared at Peter, and left in a huff. She brought her horse out of the stable and set off at a gallop toward the city. By the time she reached the city walls, she was thinking more reasonably. It made sense for Peter to leave to work so they could have money to support the farm, but she wished he didn't have to.

At least she could still stay at the farm. She left her horse in a stable owned by one of the local inns and started off toward Charlene's home. It would be sort of nice to have her close by for a while.

Roseanna

Peter was going to work in the mines. I heard people talk about it. People died in the mines. Lots of people. And he would too. Unless...

I sneak down to the main mine enterance. I put all the dynamite I can into a pile, make a fuze line about twenty feet long, lite the fuze, then run. I get far enough away that only a few peices of small rock hit me. The entire main enterance to the mine is closed. But there were others.

My night went one finding every possible opening to the mine and exploding it so rocks covered the enterance. Thankfully, the mine was far enough away from town no one would hear, I hoped. But I was wrong.

the guard wasn't a good guard. I could tell. And why on this earth did whoever sent this person send only one? It was beyond me.

"Who are you and what are you doing?" He asked.

"Im santa claus and I am delivering presents to all the good girl coals and boy coals." I say sarcastically.

He shakingly holds a sword to my neck. I grab it out of his hands. I point it back at his neck.

"YOu didn't see anything." I toss the sword back to him.

Joseph

A new dawn, a new long day of fruitless labour in the armour of the watch. That was what Joseph was quickly discovering his next hours of sunlight to be. "You just try to do your information gathering while you set up security for this party." The captain said, buckling his swordbelt on. "We both know you're not the most competant in the ranks, and its glaringly obvious that you're not the most intimidating."

The middle-aged man scratched his stubble a little, glowering at his reflection in the grimy helmet he was holding. "I'm sorry about dumping this on you, boy, but I need all the mean looking guards I can get. Hollsworthy's in uproar - not just the miners over their pay, but everyone over the state things're in."

Joseph sighed and shrugged. "I understand, father. I'll get it done." He pulled on the last of his uniform, then carefully balanced the oversized helmet on his head, setting out on the road to the Norwood estate.

As he reached the centre of the town, he came across Jane and Charlene, evidently preparing themselves and the town for the party, likely oblivious to the frantic state the guards were in. "Good morning Miss Norwood, Miss Westwood." He said, tipping his helmet a little.

He had never been good at relaxing around most of the people in the town, almost trapped by his own formality, and his embarrassment at himself. "I'm, er, sorry, but the captain needs more people than expected in investigating various problems with the mining company. Myself and two others are all that can be spared to help with your party, at this stage. Is there anything I can do to help?"

Tallow

Disgusted, the troubleshooter forced himself not to kick the quivering guard who had reported the explosions. "Why on earth did you investigate this alone? You say you heard several explosions, and didn't think to wake anyone else up?!" He threw out an arm, pointing at the collapsed main entrance to the mine. "Look at this! You've set productivity back days, at best!"

"Please, Tallow!" The guard yelled, backing away towards the entrance, "Don't hurt me, I woke up two for every explosion I'd heard - sixteen in all - and came to look at this one on my own! I don't know where the others are!"

Tallow frowned. Sixteen desertions over something like this was highly unlikely. That meant it had to be something worse, a conclusion he didn't like drawing, but one that he could not avoid under the circumstances. He turned to the crowd that had gathered around the entrance. "Check everything, people. If there's a single breach that isn't an entrance, I want to know about it!"

A thin, uncalloused hand rested on his shoulder as the miners scurried off to their duties, gently pulling him back a step. The voice that addressed him was soft, smooth and, above all, completely assured of its own superiority. "Mister Greymeer. There's no cause for this anger. What happens, happens."

A shiver ran down Tallow's spine. People rarely, if ever, had to deal with Chairman Mills. Gibson, with his ruthless efficiency and hunger for control, was bad enough. But Tallow could not even comprehend what Mills was. One thing he was certain of, though: the man was far from human, no matter what he looked like.

"Sir. I wasn't informed you would be inspecting the mines." He glanced over his shoulder, taking a half-step away from the stick-thin old man.

His comment earned a thin smile. "The silver mine's virtually collapsed, Mister Greymeer. That warrants my attention. You might have expected myself or Chairman Gibson."

Tallow watched him carefully. There's no way, none, that a message could have been taken back to headquarters, with time for him to get out here as well. It happened last night!

"Have you made any headway with your other...assignments?"

Tallow shook his head. "The townspeople are recalcitrant as far as gypsies are concerned. They want no trouble. The same goes for Fallacre, but even more so. I expect they know at least something along those lines, but they refuse to speak outside of hints about stories they have heard."

The chairman's face darkened for a few moments, and he muttered something that sounded like. "Of course. That's to be expected." Then, brightening suddenly, he looked at Tallow. "In that case, I suggest you throw yourself back into your investigations, Mister Greymeer. No need to concern yourself with a little thing like what's happened here."

Tallow nodded and started heading towards the outskirts of the camp. Following orders to the letter was his job description, and not questioning the information his was given (as well as his discretion) was why the pay was so high. But something like this, a flat dismissal of eight collapsed mine shaft entrances and sixteen missing mercenaries, that warranted attention. At the very least, he had to know if anything had cracked its way out of shaft seven.