Tyrel - Traces in the sand

[Aphel]

He met a few people, remembered the names, mostly. Some seemed quite comfortable with just idling around, and then there was this Dark Elf with a rapier. Tyrel was pretty sure he was a Dark Elf, demeanor and his attempt to keep his face concealed.
 Amateur.

 The woman in black gave him more trouble. She interfered in the fight – arrows with a broadhead, made of silver. She most likely had access to resources that enabled her to waste this sort of metal on orcs. The feathers were raven, nothing new about that. He'd have chosen plain arrows that every Fletcher sold. Simpler that way. Deniable, too. She could speak in riddles, which was good, and seemed to know a few of the proverbs concerning the Harvester of Mortals.
Means she was at least somewhat educated and could speak another language. Good.

 Then there was Cord, a shy elvish woman, and her mate, a human male called Devarian. Both appeared not to be a thread, so he made friendly.
 There also was Elyees, stubborn, howling like a wolf and not at all shy to show her body around. A follower of Folian. Sharyn was a human-elf woman. Good in a fight, using blade and shield. Showed no hostility or attempt to betray him for trues, which was good.

 Those were the notable people he had met. There were others as well, names to be remembered, motivations to be understood. No imminent thread emerged, however. So he could see to gaining more coins, and trade those for valuable goods: potions, bandages, weapons, armor. There were enough bandits that he could rob, and enough small tasks for the likes of him. He tried to keep a low profile, which was not so easy here. For now, it should work if he made sure the places he slept in were secure and changed his clothes regularly. Do something with his hair, as well. A helm, or a hood would be good, in case things went dicey.

 And that is why he made his way to Hempstead, looking for employment...

[ShiffDrgnhrt]

She watched him closely as he left the campsite, unaware that the interloper who had saved him from the Orcs had sat across from him.  She smirked to herself, and not long after, continued to stalk the elf.

The elf, who had been careful not to reveal his name when she revealed herself originally, had slipped when among the 'throngs' of adventurers who sat around the campfire.  Now she knew he was called Tyrel, and that he considered himself a warrior.  But what sort of warrior would he be?  She planned to find out...

As he entered the City of Gold, she stayed back.  She knew the city was impossible to sneak in to (from the land), so she adopted her merchant disguise and entered through the main gates uninhibited.  Moments later, the shadows became her cloak again, and she snuck through the alleys looking for the elf-warrior.

[Aphel]

It was hard to find proper work in this place, maybe he needed better clothes, so far, he was only observing the market, the sellers and buyers. Mercantile contracts, mostly - one didn't need to follow the path of the scouts to see that there were some more shady deals being made as well. On the surface, all was clean and easy guard work, but some things he just found to be ... smelling of bad people and bad places. There were some contracts for more adventurous types as well, go fetch the mystical footstool of the great Ilsarian artist Namesoundselvish. Work for rich people.
He wondered what kind of credentials or coin one needed here to get the good, proper work. The kind of employment as a real guard or as trader. The waters were murky here, where the rich couldn't see it. A temple of Deliar, nicely dressed guards, high walls and old coins. He was a guest in the place, and he behaved as such. Kept his weapon under his cloak, but still visible. Proud guest from a different, far different place. He asked for ships to various places, but nothing turned up. He had to go to a different place then to find a ship willing to take him back to Tilmar or Huajing. He only heard bad things about Fort Vehl, that would be a place he would look in later, when he had better gear. A map of these parts would be nice, but he didn't have the coins, not after the fee he had to pay at the gate. But being honest and polite still did the trick, even if one was an elf of dark colored skin, tattooed all over.
He visited the places of their history, here in this city. The memorials. Read the more or less well kept writings in the stones.