I made this chapter a while ago, and it's pretty trashy.
I just want your honest opinion on it, and some tips I could use to improve it.
Thanks in advance.
(BTW you won't be able to understand the Vocabulary because it's the seventh chapter.)
A sweeping river stood in front of Norman and Chellsae, it’s rickety bridge the only path to the sprawling town before them. Norman immediately pinched his nose, the putrid odor of Virmoone could be smelled from here.
Chellsae prodded the shamelfoot across the bridge and to the derelict city walls. A guardsman was dozing in the gate’s only fuctional tower.
“I guess we just go in?” Norman whispered as the shamelfoot pawed through the gate. “Just put this on.” Chellsae handed him one of the bandit’s cloaks. It was significantly bigger than him, but he put it on anyways.
As they passed through the cobblestone streets of the town, they kept on the lookout for anyone that looked like Norman’s mother. There were people everywhere, milling about the markets and inns of the Virmoone. If it wasn’t filled with sketchy criminals and run down, it would be a beautiful place. Cobblestone streets with a slowly winding river, filled with cozy looking buildings and charming bridges.
“Don’t get distracted, this place is where the scum of the land comes to gather. This,” She waved her hand in the direction of the market. “Is the nice part of town. Just wait.”
As they went further into the core of Virmoone, Norman started to see what Chellsae was talking about. Buildings that looked almost abandoned with slanted red roofs grasped on to large stone bridges hanging over the river, taverns stood next to dark alleys. Suspicious figures lingered near the crumbling statues of old kings and queens.
“Okay, we need to find my mother, that’s why we’re here. Any idea where to start?”
“Well, we could go to a tavern. You can find anyone at a tavern. Let’s go.”
They found a bustling tavern on the edge of the river. It was obviously a favorite of the locals, as the place was loaded to the brim with loud customers.
Norman had been to this kind of place before, and knew they weren’t necessarily the safest places around.
“Wait, before we go in, grab one of the bandit’s daggers. Who knows what could happen here, and you don’t want to arouse suspicion with that staff of yours.”
Chellsae shook her head. “Not in a thousand years. No way am I stooping that low.”
Norman sighed. “Your funeral then. I’m grabbing one.”
They entered the tavern and looked around. A few tables, a bar and a tiny stage filled the sagging structure. The walls, an ugly shade of green, were adorned with a collection of weapons of all shapes and sizes. Norman was impressed, it was a wonder that no one had stolen some of the nicer ones. His eyes caught on a blade sheathed in silver thread, a Tetham Bell Long Sword from the Aerelle Island War. It closely rivaled his father’s Ostanian steel custom blade, which was no easy feat.
They were greeted by suspicious glares from the tavern-goers, even the Bejuet soloist stopped playing his winding horn to stare at them. Nervous murmuring started up. Then he realized why.
Chellsae had brought her staff, and part of it was uncovered. “Chellsae,” Norman hissed. “Why did you bring that in?”
She frowned. “Like I said. I’m a wizard, not some knife-wielding criminal. Plus, I didn’t want it to get stolen.”
“From the faces people are giving us, I’m pretty sure it’s going to be stolen anyways.”
They went up to where the bartender was standing. Like most of the people in this part of the land, he spoke in a heavy Croptalk accent.
“What may I a’ be gettin’ you today?”
“Um, actually we don’t want anything, we just want to know-“
The bartender slammed his hands on the table.
“You be comin’ to my tavern and aint’ wantin’ a famously delish Scummug? What be you anyway? The prince and princess? You better be gettin’ a drinkin’ here!”
Chellsae put her foot down. “Look,we are searching for someone and we just-“
“Want to get some information. We’ll buy something as well if you insist.”
The bartender frowned but grudgingly agreed.
“I tell you what, princess, I’ll listen to what you be sayin’. Loemay ov’r there be a’knowin’ everyone’s whereabouts in this here town.” He pointed to a hooded figure in a corner near the stage. “Now you better buy a’ sometin’.”
“Scummug, Baersale, Telford Nectar...” Norman purused the carved piece of wood that served as a menu. “Anything with no alcohol?” Chellsae asked. “Apprentice’s Code.” She added.
“Delfud juice. Be takin’ it or leavin’ it. One litt’le peck for a mugs.”
“Croptalk for sayler.” Norman explained.
Norman handed him the coins, and got the Delfud juice. It was a slimy looking green mixture that smelled like rotting Delfud vines. That was its main ingredient after all.
Chellsae winced when she saw the concoction. “Is this edible?” She whispered, as to not offend the bartender.
“It’s edible. You might not appreciate the flavor, but it wont kill you.”
Norman took a big gulp of the juice. He had drunk it before, but it still made him gag. He looked over at Chellsae, who’s face was now as green as the juice itself.
They thanked the man and started walking over to Loemay.
“What was in that?” Chellsae asked, her face still a light green.
“Rotting Delfud vines, a bit of wheat seed and probably some dying souls or something. That is the worst Delfud juice I’ve ever had. And that’s saying a lot.”
They found Loemay had moved to the middle of a large crowd of people in the middle of the tavern. She was an old woman that appeared to be very wise. Tavern-goers shouted random questions at her, and she answered them for a sayler or two each. Norman shoved through the crowd with a couple of saylers. “Loemay! I have a very important question!” She turned around and spoke to them in a slow, creaky voice that lacked the heavy Croptalk accent of the bartender.
“I would prefer... you call me wise one. But it seems... you have some coins with you... What do you want?”
“Can we speak to you in private, oh wise one?”
Loemay chuckled. “Trying to... butter me up... aren’t you... and yes you may... speak to me in private... but it will cost you...extra.” Norman handed her six saylers. She nodded her head and shooed away everyone else.
“My home village, Iyor, burned down,” He breathed in to stop the tears. “And I believe my mother fled here. The bartender told me you might know her whereabouts. Last I knew, she was wearing a forest green cloak and had a farming scythe with her.”
“Hmm... intriguing... I will... do what I can... come... see me tomorrow... for a... report.”
“One more thing,” Chellsae asked. “Do you know any safe places to spend the night here?”
“Market Street... is definitely... your best bet... maybe the... Gateswall... District might... be good too.”
“Okay, thanks. May the Divine Creators eternally bless you.”
Norman left the tavern in high spirits. Loemay obviously had a reputation for being effective, that was proven by the paying crowd surrounding her.
“So how exactly do you think that old lady is gonna find my mother?”
“Probably some contacts with a group of bandits. No way she’s going to be the one looking.”
“I guess. Now, we need to find an inn so we don’t get robbed or murdered overnight. Market Street and Gateswall District, right?”
Chellsae nodded. “ That is what she said. I believe that is the area that we passed earlier.”
They went over to the market square in their shamelfoot carriage. Surprisingly, only some of the tools and treasure in the back were stolen. All the important things, like the carriage and mount remained. Norman was suddenly glad that Chellsae had brought her staff in. That would’ve been stolen without a doubt.
Arriving at Market Street, Norman saw that the place was almost empty. A few vendors remained, selling their goods to the last customers before dusk. As Loemay had told them, an inn stood adjacent to the market. It was easily the nicest building he had seen in Virmoone, made out of white-painted wood with dark red accents. Engraved above the entrance proclaimed the words, ‘Sailor’s Haven’.
Going inside, he found a nicely decorated lobby made of rich dark wood. An armed mercenary stood guard next to a group of young men and women dressed in all white clothes.
One of the women stepped forward. “Hello young travelers, welcome to the Sailor’s Haven. This is the safest place in all of Virmoone, our job here is to protect the traveling sailors and adventurers that stumble upon this dangerous town and don’t know where to go.”
“Sounds good, how much will it cost?”
“Twelve saylers per person, per night.”
Norman’s mouth dropped. “I can pay a third of that for a inn in a nicer town!”
“That’s the point. This is a safe place, a haven, not just an inn. Trust me, this isn’t a good town to be out during the night. The day here is tame, the night is a free for all. And you do not want to mess with any of the gangs around here.”
“Norman, just give her the money.” Chellsae pleaded.
He handed the woman twenty-four saylers.
“Thank you.” She grabbed the coins.
“ Gelvard! Go get these two their rooms.”
One of the men led them upstairs to a set of doors, a heavy padlock kept them shut. Gelvard inserted a steel key and the doors swung open.
“These are your rooms,” He pointed to two separate doors. “And this is the sitting room. The entire inn is secured with magical protection, as well as a team of guards. Oh, and your carriage is secured next to the inn.” With that, he exited the room.
“We’ll i’m going to sleep.” Norman went into his room.
As he was laying down on the silky bed, Norman heard a voice cry out.
“Woodsong! The shipment is tommorow! Send the prize to Metta before somethin’ bad be happenin’!”
The voice came from the wall next to his bed, and they were talking in code. Norman was intrigued, he leaned up to the wall to hear it better.
A feminine voice responded. “Yes, but Metta won’t be on the snake at Darksky. We have to deliver it ourselves. My vipers will arrive soon with the prize. Copper sent me a dispatch, his vipers successfully raided Fort Praxon.”
“Who do you reckon we’re given’ it to anyway? I heard maybe it’s for the rebellion against King Lanare!”
“Aye, I would say maybe, but i don’t believe those rumors for a second. You mean the ‘rebellion’ led by General Atland? Didn’t he die along with is family during the Mage attacks? Or was he the one that escaped from here to Marna?”
“I do believe that was his wife. Anyway, i’d be leavin’ soon, Fort Praxon aint’ to far away from this inn, we better deliver it to stay on the bright side of whoever be payin’ five million saylers for a rock!”
Norman got up and sat back in his bed. He accidentally knocked over his bag of coins, they splattered all over the floor.
“Furdow feathers! Someone be in the room next door!”
They ran down the staircase and out the building.
Norman knocked on Chellsae’s door.
“Come on! I just got a clue about where my mother is, there’s someone we need to follow!”
Chellsae opened the door groggily.
“I just fell asleep... but I did make you do this before, I guess it is payback.”
With that, they left an inn during the night for the second time in a week.
Please tell us why you'd like to report this post