Watch What Happens Next

PEACE IS OVERRATED, IT'S THE FIGHTERS WHO SURVIVE @Evan Fields His hands were buried deep into his pockets as Malcolm wandered through the crowded streets of Alderrath. A city he didn't visit often. However, he had almost whole of Dawnmire panting in his neck after he tried to take the salary of a merchant. He never really got caught. Before people noticed something was gone he was already two blocks further. He kept his head down not wanting to be regonized by anyone. Not that much people knew obviously. He was a simple nobody. However, he grew up here in the middle ring. Even though he spend most of his life hiding from all the wandering eyes that were filled with questions over his father and mother. Besides, a lot changes after 6 years. There was not much left from the frightened young boy he once was. Yet, that didn't change the fact that he didn't belong here. He was lower class. Lower than lower class actually. He didn't always quite look it. Today he was dressed in the best leather jacket he owned. At first glance it would look like he belonged here, just like all the others. Malcolm rolled with his shoulders, tensing his muscles. His grey eyes scanned the surroundings quickly. The alley was huddled by citizens. A few stores and stalls were opened. With bright faced salesmen trying to sell their goods. Malcolm narrowed his eyes. Looking for his next victim. He stopped at weapon store. The smell of burned metals stung his nose. The glinstering knives and daggers enlightened his eyes. A slight grin appeared on his lips. Perfect.

MONTY

Although most of the times Evan was working at the back of the shop, a lot of customers had decided to show up so he wasted he a lot of time behind the counter, gathering materials for his customers and discussing about the price. He hated the rich snobs from the Upper Ring or those who had belonged to the Upper Ring before they lost everything and had to move to the Lower Ring the most. They thought they could trick Evan into lowering the price of his materials because he was young, but Evan had worked and travelled through the other rings long and multiple times enough to know what kind of price he needed to set for his materials. His face was still red because of a heated argument he had not so long ago with a middle aged man who accused Evan of swindling because he wouldn’t lower the price of a material that was quite rare to get. Eventually the customer had left the store, cursing how he would come back to make him pay. Evan would like to see him try. He was quite handy with wielding a few weapons of his own, so he could surely stand his ground if he needed to.

The flow of ongoing customers eventually died down and with a sour face Evan noticed that he would have to venture into the city to gather materials because he was almost out. He sighed as he started to write down the things he would need. He also needed to work on that one assignment that he hadn’t finished. It was almost completed, but he had so many thing to attend to today that he was sure he would have to work after work hours to complete the assignment. This soured his mood only more.

His eyes averted upwards when he noticed a customer hanging around his shop. He was looking at the weapons Evan had hang out on display to show examples of what he could make, but he wasn’t showing any signal that he would enter the shop soon. It felt… off. Evan put the paper down and approached the man, pocketing his hands in his jeans to cock an eyebrow at him.

”Are you going to stand there forever with that stupid smile or are you actually planning on entering the shop? I don’t have all day, you know,” he rudely spoke to the man. He wasn’t afraid of losing customers. They would come back to him eventually. They always did.

PEACE IS OVERRATED, IT'S THE FIGHTERS WHO SURVIVE @Evan Fields Malcolm let his eyes glide over the dozens of razor sharp metal items in the shop. Showing off the skills of the smith that made them. He needed a new knive. Or something like that. He was no fighter. There weren't much muscles to be found in his arms. Unlike most other men around here. He had never even used an actual sword. He always managed with daggers and pocket knives. He preferred running and fleeing. Eh, it was the cowards way out maybe. But, it was useless fighting a fight you know you couldn't win. He was swift and had a good memorised map of the city he lived in, he could be gone within an eye blink.
He had only been standing at the shop for a short while when the owner walked up to him. Malcolm instantly narrowed his eyes at the hostile attitude from the smith. "That's one way to loose customers," Malcolm mumbled under his breath. He was no customer though. Well, sort of. Just one that wouldn't pay a dime for the valuable lethal items. "I'm just having a look," he said not breaking eye contact with the other. "I figured that was kind of the whole point of you stalling out your items." he hissed at the shop owner. Asshole.

MONTY

Evan was close enough to hear what the man muttered and he rolled his eyes. As if one customer would make a huge difference. Evan eyed him up and down quickly. His clothes made it seem that he was either from the Middle Ring or from the Lower Ring; it was hard to tell. The leather jacket looked like material that could be from around here. But the rest of his appearance didn’t match with his clothes. His hair, for example. It looked like it hadn’t been washed for a long time. His face was scarred, making him look more like a traveler than someone who was from Ashmoor. Evan averted his eyes back to the man when he spoke his words and a smirk appeared on his face. ”Well, then why don’t you come inside? You could have a better look that way,” he spoke in a polite manner, but his eyes weren’t laughing and gazed coldly at the man in front of him.

He turned around and walked back in the shop, but there was no way in hell he would focus back on his shopping list. He didn’t trust the man and he wasn’t going to let him alone, not near the examples he had made with his own hands. He had always trusted his instincts and his instincts told him that something was off about this man. ”Are you from around here?” he asked, stepping towards one of the swords he had hung up to adjust it a little bit. It made a metallic clang as it fell back into place and Evan stepped back, being satisfied with the new adjustment. Then he turned around and eyed the man, cocking an inquisitive eyebrow at him.

PEACE IS OVERRATED, IT'S THE FIGHTERS WHO SURVIVE @Evan Fields Malcolm instantly noticed that the man didn't trust a single inch of him. He couldn't blame him ofcourse. By the way he looked alone. He looked like a homeless person from the deepest hole in the poorest part of Dawnmire. Which wasn't exactly untrue honestly. The scar that covered his face didn't make him much more trustworthy looking. He nodded a bit at the other when he proposed to go inside. He started to doubt if it was a good idea to steal something from here. The owner already seemed suspicious of him. Perhaps he could just get inside and then watch and see what would happen. Who knows, maybe he would be able to slit a small knife in his pocket. Otherwise he would just have to behave himself for once.
He followed the shop owner inside. His grey eyes glided from left and right. Checking every corner he could lay his eyes on. Quickly he scanned the inside of the shop. Checking for anything that would give him an opportunity. Malcolm cleared his throat when the other asked a question. "Yeah actually, I grew up here." he answered the other without really looking up. He pretended to be just really interested in the weapons he saw laying around. Like he was inspecting their quality rather than the possibilty they had to get stolen. His answer wasn't a lie anyways. He did in fact grew up here. He didn't live here anymore but that was something the other didn't need to know.

MONTY

Evan looked intently at the man as he started to look around. He saw how the man took in every inch of the shop, as if he was really interested. Evan still wasn’t sure what he was so interested for. Was it because he wanted to buy something or because he wanted to steal something? Evan knew he probably shouldn’t judge based on appearance, but he suspected that the man wouldn’t be even able to buy the smallest knife he had. The items that were hanging around to show an example of his craftmanship were quite expensive. Most of them were made of silver and there was on hanging in the corner of the shop that was made out of gold. The less expensive materials, like the bronze dagger that was hanging a bit more to the ceiling in the upper corner of his shop, still did cost some money. If was therefore that most buyers let their swords, daggers or other weapons be crafted out of materials they chose themselves, so that they made sure for themselves they were able to buy it.

The man told him that he grew up here. ”In the Middle Ring?” It was clear that Evan didn’t believe that. Even the poorest fool in the Middle Ring would be able to look better than the man in front of him. ”Because you look like someone who comes from the Lower Ring.” Even the people in the Agrarian Ring looked better than this. He folded his arms, resting his harsh grey blue gaze on the man in front of him. ”Do you even have a place to stay?” He cocked an eyebrow. Living on the streets was hard in the Middle Ring, but in the Lower Ring, with the high criminal rate, it would be something else. It would be like fighting for your life every goddamn night.

It wouldn’t be a life Evan would like to get adjusted to, but he knew that if it came down to it, he would surely be able to survive. He survived his childhood, so a couple of men who wanted to beat him up were nothing compared to what he had to live through here in the Middle Ring every day.

PEACE IS OVERRATED, IT'S THE FIGHTERS WHO SURVIVE @Evan Fields Malcolm knew the man didn't believe a single word he said. Altough, everything he had spoken right now was true. No lies told. Just sweet little white lies.The shop owner seemed to be suspicious of him already. Stealing something here would be a terrible idea. However, Malcolm had another idea on his mind. His gaze darkend when the Merchant said he didn't look like someone from the Middle ring. Which was true. He looked like he came straight from the darkest corner of Ashmoor. "I come from here." he said straight with a slightly frustrated undertone. "In fact, my father is from the upper ring. He's a well respected Jeweller. I'm sure you know him." He gave a short wink. Sad enough, little people knew his father had a son. He lived in the shades of the middle ring, hiding his entire his existing when he was younger. His father was ashamed of him. Scarred of what he could maybe be and how that would wreck his reputation. His father's nightmares came to life when Malcolm was in fact what he feared him to be. Oh God, if his dad could only see him now. Not only a half fish but also a thief. He'd be so proud. Malcolm inhaled deeply and reached for his pocket. He took out a small bag filled with golden coins he had stolen from the other merchant several nights ago. He held it up and gave the guy a self-pleased smile. "I'd like to see your daggers," Malcolm said without lowering his annoying smile.

MONTY

Evan cocked an eyebrow once again when the man told him he was from around here and that his father was a well known jeweler in the Upper Ring. At this Evan couldn’t help himself but give the man a dry look. ”I don’t keep track with rich snobs from the Upper Ring,” he told the man in a tone that wasn’t impressed in the slightest. He hated everything that had to do with the Upper Ring. He hated their fancy clothes, their luxury life and the way how they looked down on people. Everyone there was just a rich snob who didn’t deserve his attention and who didn’t know how to work hard for their money. Life in the Middle Ring was definitely better than life in the Lower or Agrarian Ring, but at least the people here knew how to work for their money.

The man fished out a sack with golden coins out of his pocket and Evan cocked an eyebrow once again. It was clear that he didn’t believe that the man had earned it himself and he fixated the man with a stern gaze, his icy blue grey eyes resting upon him. ”I don’t give a fuck how you earned that money or if you stole it, but I will tell you one thing,” he said, lowering his voice and taking a step forward so that he was standing nose to nose with the man. ”If you try as much as steal one little dagger in this shop, even the cheapest one, I will make you regret that choice. I don’t stick to morals and I’m not a saint. I can wield weapons even better than I can craft them, so get it into your thick skull that you’re messing with the wrong guy if you want to try something.” His voice was soft, but the words were spoken coldly and his gaze was threatening. He flexed his muscles on purpose, but turned around after he gave off that clear message.

”I don’t know what you’re interested in, but with the fancy vibe you’re giving off I’m going to guess that you would like either a dagger made out of silver or gold steel,” he spoke to the man, smirking a bit in mockery as he walked towards the examples he had hung out all around the shop. Of course he was mocking the man, because while that sack of coins could probably afford the cheapest dagger made out of silver steel, it could never afford the daggers made out of gold steel.

But after telling him about his father, Evan just liked to rub it into his face a little bit more that he wasn’t giving off the rich vibe he was trying to give off. And that he wasn’t impressing Evan at all with his words.