Young Writers Society

"I was in the Packlands. Last thing I remember, I was on the outskirts, trying to avoid a patrol."

James looks at her with a bit of a helpless look, feeling at a loss for how to help her. "I... yeah I don't know that place. I wish I did though."

"Chances are it's overseas or in another Realm." Please, Avren, let it be the former. I still must fight.

"Well... let's hope for the best, then." James replied with a wary nod.

"Yep. You know where we can get those lockpicks?"

James stared off for a moment, thinking of where they could go. "If you think you could trade for it I bet you could find someone with some in the tavern." He nodded in the direction of the Tavern across the street: a tall building built out of logs, with a crudely carved wooden sign reading 'Bubbler Tavern.' What that meant, James didn't have the slightest idea. But that was the name, and somehow, it was a thriving business. Probably had something to do with it being the only Tavern in the small town.

"You staying out here or coming in?"

James makes a face, not really wanting to go in. He was mostly hesitant of running into any familiar faces, but the risk was just as present outside of the tavern. After a moment of consideration he reluctantly took a step forward to follow, his movement looking more like someone had pulled him and jerked him into motion, but once he started walking, walked normally.

"I'll just hang around. Find me when you're done."

Tasha nods and takes off her sword and jacket, leaving them with her horse - both make her conspicuous, and the insignia will just attract unwanted attention and questions she doesn't want to answer.

She slips inside, sauntering over to the bar and looking around for the shady figures of the place.

James followed behind, slinking into the back and leaning on the back wall. Though he didn't show it, he was repulsed by the smell of booze wafted over from the bar and hated the misty, muggy air of the tavern. He simply watched the room, eyes occasionally landing on Tasha to keep tabs on her.

At the end of the bar, there was a shady figure who already had their eye on Tasha, noting her searching gaze. He watched her and waited for her to make her way to him.

She saunters over, looking every bit the unlawful scoundrel. She doesn't look at him as she leans on the bar next to the man, however - she'd rather keep this subtle.

The man, scrawny and lean, breaks eye contact, reading her body language clearly. He takes a sip of his beer and gives he only a little side-eye.

"Looking for something, lady?" He asks after a gulp of beer.



James stared out into blank space, still very much alert of his surroundings but also very sick of the environment. He noticed a figure slide up beside him and though he didn't turn his head, he feared the worst. Could've been one of Rita's crew, or somebody else who wanted his head. Or worse, a bounty hunter who recognized him. His eyes flickered to the side, and once he caught sight of who is was, turned his head.

"Oh god," his voice lowers with a mix of annoyance and dread. "You again."

Cowell, a burly fellow, crossed his arms and shrugged with a warm smile. "Fancy seein' you here, Ti-"

James cut him off. "Don't."

"Ok, so I have a proposal. What if, you come with me and we turn you in, but we fool 'em and I help you escape, and we split the money."

James looked at him with the most extreme expression of incredulity and offense he could muster.

"Sure, we'd both be wanted then, but-" Cowell continued, but James cut him off again.

"I hate you."

Cowell shrugged again, sliding away slowly. "Considerrrr ittttt." He laughed as he walked away from him. James stared after him with an intense glare for a moment before returning his generally unimpressed gaze to the ceiling.

She listens but doesn't look up, instead responding to the man.

"You seem like the kind of man who could help me obtain something...well, let's just say it may not be used for the most lawful of practices."

The man raises a brow, intrigued. "And what would that be?"

"Just a few lockpicks."