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Description
The grey and brown old city district of New Eden.

Cobblestone sidewalks that have seen much better days. A two lane road that forks at the end. Small businesses and shops, built into the large old brick buildings, line the streets. A huge cathedral looms over all of this. The occasional car or delivery truck passes through. This is a relatively quiet area, especially this time of morning. Only about dozen pedestrians walk the street, about their own business. A far cry from the mad chaos of the city above.

Tiran and Gamling walk, side-by-side, down the street. Gamling with his usual hurried, bouncing gait and Tiran, his trademark confident, unconcerned swagger. Tiran wears a brown jacket over a black, long-sleeved, compression shirt.

Gamling: So, uh, ya got any questions? Ya been kinda quiet.

Tiran: Just thinking about the way life seems to open new doors just as others close.

Gamling: Seems like I showed up at the right time, huh?

Tiran: (Casually looking around) Seems like it...( Looks down at Gamling) ...Seems like it.

Gamling smiles nervously. Tiran stops at a restaurant labeled 'Gianna's' with metal shutters down in front of the windows and the door. Tiran knocks on the shuttered door.

Gianna: Hey, moron!

Tiran and Gamling look up. sticking her head out of a window on the second floor is a short haired, brunette, brown eyed woman.

Gianna: I said ten o'clock!

Tiran: (sigh) It's nine forty, Gianna.

Gianna: AND? I said Ten!

Tiran: O.k, we'll wait, then. Fine with you?

Gianna: Oh fuck it, I'll be down in a second.

Tiran lifts his hands in a shrug and sighs.

Several minutes later, Tiran leans against the metal shutters of Gianna's restaurant. Gamling stands patiently next to him.

Gamling: This is the longest 'second' I have ever experienced.

The sound of metal clacking can be heard as the shutters lift. The front door opens. Tiran turns around.

Tiran: ' Bout time.

Gianna: I said Ten o'clock, I meant that shit.

Gianna stands in the front doorway, white tee shirt stretched tight across her enormous bosom. Her wide, thick hips filling out a pair of blue jeans. She wears her trademark sassy grin. Tiran grins back.

Gianna: Sup, boy. Got somethin' for me... (Looks over at Gamling) ... Or is this just a casual visit.

Gamling: What's that supposed to mean?

The three enter the restaurant. It's quiet. The chairs are placed atop the tables. The decor is brick and wood with dark carpeting on the floor.

Gianna: Tiran sometimes surprises me with stuff I can use in my recipes. He finds interesting and rare ingredients that would typically cost me an arm and leg to acquire.

Gamling: Interesting.

Gianna: Damn right. I was the only place in town serving REAL Varsquid at a reasonable price last year...And let's not even begin about the spices and ingredients he's brought me. Thanks to this guy...(Pats Tiran hard on the chest) ...I've been able to build a bit of a reputation down here in my humble establishment.

Gianna walks around an ornate stone wall to the kitchen area. The sound of pots and pans can be heard.

Tiran: Still crazy busy on weekends?

Gianna: (From the kitchen) Oh, like you wouldn't believe.

Gamling: (To Tiran) Maybe you'll find something of interest on your trip you can bring back.

Gianna: What trip?

Tiran: As usual, Gamling has me doing odd jobs for him. Money's pretty good this time, though.

Gamling: Especially if you win.

Gianna: Win what?

Tiran: A fighting tournament.

Gianna: Ya serious?

Tiran: Yup. Long story.

Gianna: Well, I some time.
Why don't you tell me while I go upstairs for a minute.

Gianna walks up the staircase to the second floor.

Tiran: There's a fighting tournament. Gamling's contact thinks the show-runners are suspicious. So, I fight, while two agents disguised as my entourage scope the event out. I get to keep whatever I win, plus my pay for taking part in the operation.

Gianna walks back downstairs to the restaurant. She is now wearing an ornate forest green outfit with drawstrings across the chest, long olive sleeves with the shoulders cut out and a red sheet-like wrap tied around her waist that hangs low, almost to her feet, in the back. She wears dark olive colored leggings and brown boots.

Gianna: What do you think?

Tiran: This your work uniform?

Gamling: You get my seal of approval. You're as apitizing as one of your dishes.

Gianna: Yeah... Slow down, fuzzy.

Tiran: You look great. This apart of your new outlook what with your sudden popularity?

Gianna: You betcha. (Walks into the kitchen) You gotta look the part, you know. So what's up with this job? Sounds fishy to me. Some mystery men use your entourage as cover to enter the tournament grounds...? Yeah, I don't like it.

Tiran: Gotta admit, the money'll make you overlook those details. Besides,all I gotta do is fight and that's what I do best anyway. Whatever Hamling and his friends are up to... ( Leans back. Throws his head back.) ...It's none of my concern.

Gamling: ...And that's why I like you, Tiran.

Gianna: (Sigh) ...And, that's what frustrates me about you, Tiran.

Tiran: (Looks over at Gianna) What?

Gianna: You ever wondered what you could be if you actually gave a damn? Like, really cared to make a difference?

Tiran: There's plenty of heroes in the world, G. (Closes eyes, puts hands behind head and leans back.) ... And they don't need an amateur like me out there playing savior to the masses.

Gianna: You're selling yourself short, Tiran.

Gamling: Takes more than strength to be a hero. It's not a life for everyone who can swing a sword or cast a spell. That's why mercenaries exist.

Tiran points to Gamling in agreement.

Gianna: Well, as someone who has made substantial use of your abilities, and as a result- seen your potential, I just felt the need to put my opinion out there.

Gianna places a large bowl, filled with a piping hot mix of stewed meats vegetables and noodles, on the bar next to Tiran. Then another in front of Gamling.

Gianna: Dig in boys.

Gamling takes a long sniff of the delicious-looking meal. Tiran takes his bowl.

Tiran: Oh, we will.

Description
The grey and brown old city district of New Eden.

Cobblestone sidewalks that have seen much better days. A two lane road that forks at the end. Small businesses and shops, built into the large old brick buildings, line the streets. A huge cathedral looms over all of this. The occasional car or delivery truck passes through. This is a relatively quiet area, especially this time of morning. Only about dozen pedestrians walk the street, about their own business. A far cry from the mad chaos of the city above.

Tiran and Gamling walk, side-by-side, down the street. Gamling with his usual hurried, bouncing gait and Tiran, his trademark confident, unconcerned swagger. Tiran wears a brown jacket over a black, long-sleeved, compression shirt.

Gamling: So, uh, ya got any questions? Ya been kinda quiet.

Tiran: Just thinking about the way life seems to open new doors just as others close.

Gamling: Seems like I showed up at the right time, huh?

Tiran: (Casually looking around) Seems like it...( Looks down at Gamling) ...Seems like it.

Gamling smiles nervously. Tiran stops at a restaurant labeled 'Gianna's' with metal shutters down in front of the windows and the door. Tiran knocks on the shuttered door.

Gianna: Hey, moron!

Tiran and Gamling look up. sticking her head out of a window on the second floor is a short haired, brunette, brown eyed woman.

Gianna: I said ten o'clock!

Tiran: (sigh) It's nine forty, Gianna.

Gianna: AND? I said Ten!

Tiran: O.k, we'll wait, then. Fine with you?

Gianna: Oh fuck it, I'll be down in a second.

Tiran lifts his hands in a shrug and sighs.

Several minutes later, Tiran leans against the metal shutters of Gianna's restaurant. Gamling stands patiently next to him.

Gamling: This is the longest 'second' I have ever experienced.

The sound of metal clacking can be heard as the shutters lift. The front door opens. Tiran turns around.

Tiran: ' Bout time.

Gianna: I said Ten o'clock, I meant that shit.

Gianna stands in the front doorway, white tee shirt stretched tight across her enormous bosom. Her wide, thick hips filling out a pair of blue jeans. She wears her trademark sassy grin. Tiran grins back.

Gianna: Sup, boy. Got somethin' for me... (Looks over at Gamling) ... Or is this just a casual visit.

Gamling: What's that supposed to mean?

The three enter the restaurant. It's quiet. The chairs are placed atop the tables. The decor is brick and wood with dark carpeting on the floor.

Gianna: Tiran sometimes surprises me with stuff I can use in my recipes. He finds interesting and rare ingredients that would typically cost me an arm and leg to acquire.

Gamling: Interesting.

Gianna: Damn right. I was the only place in town serving REAL Varsquid at a reasonable price last year...And let's not even begin about the spices and ingredients he's brought me. Thanks to this guy...(Pats Tiran hard on the chest) ...I've been able to build a bit of a reputation down here in my humble establishment.

Gianna walks around an ornate stone wall to the kitchen area. The sound of pots and pans can be heard.

Tiran: Still crazy busy on weekends?

Gianna: (From the kitchen) Oh, like you wouldn't believe.

Gamling: (To Tiran) Maybe you'll find something of interest on your trip you can bring back.

Gianna: What trip?

Tiran: As usual, Gamling has me doing odd jobs for him. Money's pretty good this time, though.

Gamling: Especially if you win.

Gianna: Win what?

Tiran: A fighting tournament.

Gianna: Ya serious?

Tiran: Yup. Long story.

Gianna: Well, I some time.
Why don't you tell me while I go upstairs for a minute.

Gianna walks up the staircase to the second floor.

Tiran: There's a fighting tournament. Gamling's contact thinks the show-runners are suspicious. So, I fight, while two agents disguised as my entourage scope the event out. I get to keep whatever I win, plus my pay for taking part in the operation.

Gianna walks back downstairs to the restaurant. She is now wearing an ornate forest green outfit with drawstrings across the chest, long olive sleeves with the shoulders cut out and a red sheet-like wrap tied around her waist that hangs low, almost to her feet, in the back. She wears dark olive colored leggings and brown boots.

Gianna: What do you think?

Tiran: This your work uniform?

Gamling: You get my seal of approval. You're as apitizing as one of your dishes.

Gianna: Yeah... Slow down, fuzzy.

Tiran: You look great. This apart of your new outlook what with your sudden popularity?

Gianna: You betcha. (Walks into the kitchen) You gotta look the part, you know. So what's up with this job? Sounds fishy to me. Some mystery men use your entourage as cover to enter the tournament grounds...? Yeah, I don't like it.

Tiran: Gotta admit, the money'll make you overlook those details. Besides,all I gotta do is fight and that's what I do best anyway. Whatever Hamling and his friends are up to... ( Leans back. Throws his head back.) ...It's none of my concern.

Gamling: ...And that's why I like you, Tiran.

Gianna: (Sigh) ...And, that's what frustrates me about you, Tiran.

Tiran: (Looks over at Gianna) What?

Gianna: You ever wondered what you could be if you actually gave a damn? Like, really cared to make a difference?

Tiran: There's plenty of heroes in the world, G. (Closes eyes, puts hands behind head and leans back.) ... And they don't need an amateur like me out there playing savior to the masses.

Gianna: You're selling yourself short, Tiran.

Gamling: Takes more than strength to be a hero. It's not a life for everyone who can swing a sword or cast a spell. That's why mercenaries exist.

Tiran points to Gamling in agreement.

Gianna: Well, as someone who has made substantial use of your abilities, and as a result- seen your potential, I just felt the need to put my opinion out there.

Gianna places a large bowl, filled with a piping hot mix of stewed meats vegetables and noodles, on the bar next to Tiran. Then another in front of Gamling.

Gianna: Dig in boys.

Gamling takes a long sniff of the delicious-looking meal. Tiran takes his bowl.

Tiran: Oh, we will.