With Class In Black I Trade You

(Im writing a story and this is what i got so far, message me all you dames and gents with some input)

Chapter 1


Things weren’t always this way, blackened like they have become. Tunare thought, sitting at the bar. With the usual brutes and drunkards around him, he sipped his water in silence, pondering his next move. The Resistance hadn’t been too active up until a month ago, now it seemed there was always something to preoccupy his every minute. Half of the people around Tunare were his comrades and the other half were the reason he was there.
Gothora has always had its city Guard and military, but since Baron Scoph came into power, it seems the whole country of Vahvuus is dying. There were dungeons all through the city streets, well under them, which was something the old Baron Baldur would have seen as blasphemous to their Laws. Personal freedoms had been mostly revoked and as if that weren’t enough, there was a new and constant disease and darkness in the air. Not a metaphorical disease, but a very literal one that infected more and more people every day. It was a disease that plagued Tunare even now, as he sat at the candlelit bar with his lips to the glass, sipping slowly. He had to consume things slowly; else the coughing would start again. Radiation poisoning, from when the Baron’s personal chemical company Veritas nuked Tunare’s home town of Axura. That was three years ago and a lot has changed since then.
Tunare’s leg itched where his dagger was always discreetly stashed in his boot as he waited to meet his new contact.
“I’m on the job, even when I’m supposed to be resting.” He said to himself. It had been how long now, three days since he last slept? Tunare wanted nothing more than to meet up with this supplier of sorts, and find a place to bed down for a while. Pulling a cryptic note out of his pocket, he read the information again. The supplier was a female, about 5’3”, and that Tunare would know her when he saw her. That’s all the sheet said, no hair or eye color, no distinguishing markings or characteristics, and no name.
How frustrating. Why can’t they simplify things more? He thought swirling the water in his glass and tapping his foot rhythmically on the floor. Since he was tall, he didn’t have to use the footrest the bar provided. He pushed his dark hair out of his face and stole a glance at the clock on the wall. 2 a.m.
“Need something stronger, friend?” Came the voice of the bartender. He smiled at Tunare as he approached, which Tunare returned with a grin of his own. For some reason, he couldn’t remember the bartender’s name, though he knew he’d seen that blonde hair, those gray eyes, and that devious smile before. A fight started to break out between some of the bigger guys, something about women Tunare was sure. And, as quickly as it started, the bartender ended it with only a glance in their direction.
Tunare just shook his head. “No, friend. I’m just waiting on someone.” The bartender’s eyes flashed for a moment then faded back to normal. He made a drink and slid it down the bar to a waiting patron, nodded once and looked back at Tunare flashing his super white canines in a grin. The bartender knew more than he was letting on, but Tunare couldn’t figure out what. He appeared nonchalant on the outside, but his mind was running rampant. It turns out that his radiation poisoning had its pluses, because Tunare could read people easier than most could and the bartender, whatever his blasted name was, was giving off a very anxious aura. Despite that, Tunare noticed he looked cool, calm, and collected.
Before Tunare could ask him about his mystery contact, he walked down the bar and returned with several empty glasses and mugs, which he dunked in a steaming sink.
“Who are you waiting on?” the bartender asked casually.
Tunare searched the man’s face before he answered. The bartender appeared to be roughly Tunare’s age, though somehow he seemed battle-worn. “To be honest I’m not really sure but I’m supposed to know her when I see her.”
“Ah, a blind date?” he winked at Tunare with a sly smile.
Tunare chuckled and looked up at him, “You could say that, I suppose.”
It wasn’t protocol for Rebels to disclose information to non-members, but the slender, stormy-eyed bartender knew more than he let on. Plus, the dim lights and casual atmosphere in the bar seemed laid back and trustworthy. Tunare felt like he could share all of his secrets and they would just fade into the walls. It wasn’t too long, however, until he got ripped out of his daze.
“Don’t get too comfortable.” A voice said softly. Tunare looked around from side to side but he wasn’t sure if the voice was his consciousness or the bartender.
“Um, what was that?” He asked blinking once & swallowing the rest of his water. His throat was starting to burn, along with his entire body, which meant that he needed to get out of there and get an anti-toxin. The bad thing is, Tunare was almost out of cash and the anti-toxin he needed wasn’t cheap.
“There’s a Storm coming,” he told Tunare, “that’s what you’re waiting on, friend.” With that, he turned and went through some well-worn doors into what Tunare guessed to be the kitchen. A storm? If the bartender was right and the weather was going to get bad, then Tunare needed to leave almost immediately; he heard rumors that when it rained in Gothora, it did so with a vengeance. That the rain came down so hard you couldn’t see your own feet on the ground. As for the thunder, well, deafening doesn’t express it. If you don’t wearing ear protection, blood will flow from the damaged ears of the poor soul that wasn’t protected.
“There was someone once that went out into a storm, the worst one in history actually, am I right?” Tunare queried, shifting on his stool.
The bartender called back after a moment’s hesitation, “Yes, you are. She was about 11 if I remember right.” They seemed in their own world as he deepened his tale, the entire bar and its patrons melting away to an encompassing black and blue realm.
“What happened?”
He could hear the bartender moving about in the kitchen. “Not a lot of people know the whole story but from what I heard,” The bartender walked out and leaned on the counter in front of Tunare, lowering his voice. “she did it as an act of Rebellion. Poor thing, she got knocked down by the thunder’s boom, and when she stood up,” He shook his head sadly, his eyes darkening as if reliving the story. Before continuing, he mixed a drink and downed it in one fluid motion. “that blasted lightning got her!” He nodded once for emphasis and refilled Tunare’s water glass.
TheStormNamedSenna TheStormNamedSenna
18-21, F
Dec 11, 2012