The Sword and Staff [All Welcome]

[Storm Veritas]

Generally Storm had made a point to engage women of all sorts, although he certainly preferred they bring either intelligence or beauty to the table. The pretty ones he had very temporary uses for; the sharper witted ones were far more engaging. Philomel was at least a little of both. She was beautiful from the hips up, if you could get by the horns and stay focused on pretty face or whoppers that seemed to float beneath her collarbone. She was also far too well-traveled to be dumb. Phi was a sharp one, and her coy line of questioning surprised him. He knew she was playing him.

"Which establishment?" Storm rubbed at his chin as he looked carefully at her pretty face for some sort of tell.

Maybe you didn't see me come down the stairs, but I'm bone dry. If I could miracle my ass from place to place, I'd be busier than just going bar to bar...

...err, well, nah screw it, I'd still probably pub hop if only to be more picky with the whores.

"Unlike our friend Shinsou, I can't disappear and pop around from place to place. I hope you don't think all of us humans are the same!" Storm grinned again, hoping that he hadn't upset the towering faun. Her beauty masked some sort of unholy power; he didn't want to pick a fight with all that business.

"If you'll pardon the crudeness, I've been at this establishment a bit longer than everyone else, but was feeding some other vices when the crowd began to rush in."

His eyes dropped down; perhaps she'd buy that he was gambling, but there was no use trying to outright lie to her.

"And yourself? What brought you and yours here? Just seeking shelter, or something more interesting?"

[FennWenn]

The swanky guy handing out free drinks was here. Fenn gave him a reserved wave, stared into his coin-bright eyes, and scooted away a few inches.

The faun chatted familiarly with Storm as she dripped water out over the floor. He sensed… something building between Phi and Mr. Storm McSwank Veritas over here. It was another one of those things Fenn could notice but not identify. A contest was missing to him; the two's conversation hinged on esoteric to his pointed ears. They twitched in annoyance. Oh well. Gently, the fae scooped up Phi’s fluffy white-brown Mao rabbit and set it in his lap. It was a big rabbit. A big, well-behaved rabbit. He stroked the agreeable creature and continued to stare warily at the new stranger. Handing out free drinks or no, Fenn wasn’t sure how to feel about this man yet.

With a quick tap on the table, a patch of frost appeared. FENNIK GLENWEY, the boy scrawled in it. It was a formal introduction, and a cold introduction, in more ways than one.

Uncertainly, he stole a swig of an unattended drink. Slurp.

[Philomel]

Mao blinked huge eyes, and sat there with a silent shiver running down her back. Ears twitched, sensing for danger, but as she looked around and realised that indeed she was safe and had been rescued by the Food-Giver Philomel. There was no Rock-Teeth-Protector Delath here - he was the one that truly made Mao feel safer - but there was a faun, and there was a Hot-Fur also known as Veridian. Therefore she settled into Fenn's lap with a very un-rabbit like ease, having forgone the instincts of her kin a long time ago. When she was born as the daughter of a rabbit-god. When she had been rescued by a faun.

The matter, was, however, she was illiterate. She also had limited intelligence. So she did not see and recognise the words. It took Veridian to huff in frustration over the fact Fenn was trying so hard to make friends with everyone and anyone who came. He looked up and saw Storm conversing with Philomel, and it might take time for him to notice. Veridian thought it good to at least start off with names. Twitching his tail left to right he paused before letting hot breath, made hotter by the fire inside him, fog over much of the table. Then, settling beside Fenn he very awkardly stretched out with one paw and wrote in large, messy writing.

'THAT STORM. HE FRIEND. I AM VERIDIAN.'

Then he looked to the boy, looking at him with deep, intelligent eyes and waiting for the response.

Philomel meanwhile was pausing.

"You came so bright and cheery that I assumed you had had company. No, I don't seem to presume anything of humans. You do know most of my friends, clients and comrades are human. I am from Radasanth after all." She picked up her drink and leant towards Storm with a glint in her eye. "The reason I asked was ... Well you do know what it is I do for a living, right? Shin dear must have mentioned it."

She drank a small amount, then set it down.

"That was not the reason I came in here, though. Rarely do I actually provide any service anymore, and there isn't really any business that needed to be done in the city." She shook her head. "No, actually I'm in town because I need a new set of armour." She shrugged. "Weird, I know."

Then she smiled at him. "It is nice to properly meet you. You are definitely more down to earth than Shin dear has let on."and

[Nicolette]

Her smile was genuine, despite the craziness of the inn. To say that this was not her scene would be a gross understatement, and she was quite taken aback by the behavior. None of the taverns she had visited in Salvar had doubled as a circus. Then again, those patrons had known that quasi-royalty sat among them. Odds are likely that they were on their best behavior. She was well liked, and far from a dictator who might drive her people into submission, but they probably avoided being their rowdy, genuine selves in her presence. Besides, as hectic as the crowd was, and as unimpressed she remained regarding some of the behavior, she was shamefully intrigued as well. This was the sort of entertainment she generally sought in novels. "I do appreciate the offer, Atzar, but Master Cain has already placed me on his tab. I would hate to insult him by refusing his hospitality."

She wondered if he would even notice though, given the small throng of strangers that had gathered around him. Was it simply his ostentatious ways, beckoning for other travelers to gawk as if he were some street performer? Or did he know these people? Nicolette's expression did not waver, but her amber eyes narrowed just slightly as she regarded him. There was so much that she still did not know when it came to the sandy-haired scholar. Was that enough to deter her from joining his guild? "Still," she continued suddenly, swinging her gaze back to the man seated beside her, "I would like to remain here, and enjoy your company a bit longer. If you have no objections."

When the newcomer approached the pair, and asked to join, Nicolette's smile remained. His appearance was a surprise, as there was something just a bit unusual in his discolored skin, but she was too well-educated to react. A diplomat's face was fit for a poker game, Alexander had joked once, given its inability to be read by even the most trained eye. "Welcome," Nicolette greeted warmly. "You are more than welcome."

Yet another stranger clomped down the stairs. He seemed to glow, cheeks flushed pink, a broad smile on his face. It would not be difficult to guess at where he had come from, but the woman shoved the thought from her mind immediately. It was not her place. Instead, she loosed a soft laugh and shook her head, blonde hair cascading over her shoulder. "Consider that the third gentleman to offer me a drink this evening."

[Rayleigh]

Someone greeted her, the cheerful words bubbling over the noise of the rowdy tavern. Rayleigh paused mid-swig, tipping the glass down to peer over the rim at the newcomer. Speaking of which, whose glass was it? She had finished the wine, and emptied the glass that had been abandoned, half-empty, on the table top. Was this now John's drink? Or had the waitress brought by another? She could hardly be expected to keep track, given her miserable mood, and the rapid rate in which she was consuming the alcohol.

Hyperion? Madison's friend? Her first thought, though muddled by the wine, and the beer, and whatever was in this glass, was is Maddy here? It had been a long time since she had seen the woman. Their last encounter had been incredibly brief, another tavern, in what felt like another time. When she thought on it, Rayleigh could faintly remember Hyperion there too. At the time, Ray had been working as a waitress, taking some of the pressure off her good friend, and owner of the establishment. She knew nothing of this striking woman, who was dressed a bit like an exceptionally stylish priestess. Truth be told, the mechanic knew little of Madison either, though she had always hoped to learn more. Their love of tinkering united them, despite whatever differences kept them apart for months at a time. Spending more time with Maddy had always been a priority, but it had never seemed to happen.

The figure before her seemed to radiate joy, trembling with it. Though Rayleigh could not see her face, she envisioned one of those smiles that split a person's face in half. It was too much. "Hi Hyperion," she answered plainly, gaze drifting back to Vincent to remind her why she was angry in the first place. Hold onto that mad. But the other woman did not appear to take the hint, nor was she frightened away by Rayleigh's foul mood. On the contrary, it seemed to draw Madison's friend another step closer. "Look," Ray began, her face screwing into an expression of mild discomfort as a headache began its slow pulse. "It's good to see you again, but now isn't the best time, because-"

Hyperion lunged, her arms wide, her masked face unreadable as it drew closer and closer to Ray's own. "Oh fuck," the brunette choked out as Hyperion's arms circled her shoulders, holding her close in a grip far too sturdy for a lady of the church. "John," Ray whimpered, her foggy mind failing to comprehend what was happening. "Help, help, help." Can't compute. Her mousy frame was rigid, tense with confusion and unease. Hyperion, however, seemed to hum with power. And... warmth?

"Let me go," Ray said weakly, with the conviction of an addict refusing another hit. "Please." There was a soft hushing noise in her ear, and after a moment's focus, she realized that her attacker was soothing her. She struggled again, only once, before succumbing to the hug. It was as if the contact was chasing the haze from her brain, and heightening each sensation. Each raw, exposed, vulnerable sensation. She had been embraced before, by Vincent, who had proven to be a habitual hugger. But this was different, comforting in the way a mother's hug might be. Not that Rayleigh would ever know that. Her mother had died before the girl could utter her first cry. The thought drew a tight-throated sob from Rayleigh, and before she knew it, her own short arms had wound their way around Hyperion. Her fingers dug in, anchoring herself to the complete stranger, as her face pressed against the fabric stretched tight across Hype's shoulder.

[Storm Veritas]

The boy was adorable; a bundle of mischief and energy that looked almost cosmic in its innocence. His name appeared to be Fennik, and he was stealing drinks. The adult in Storm wanted to shepherd the boy away, to keep him from trouble in the midst of all this mania. The ten year old that lingered beneath the graying hair and faint crow's feet remembered drinking when his parents left the house; was he so much older?

No, but there weren't a half-dozen capable killers for you to piss off, either. Better close to the boy; he may need help soon enough.

With a friendly smile, the wizard pulled his own tall glass of mead a touch closer, pivoting his body against the bar betwixt both Philomel and his new fascination Fennik. He could keep a wandering eye on the boy while giving the faun the attention she rightly commanded. Fennik was doing him a favor; a distraction could keep the gaze of the mage from settling inappropriately in the long, promising crevasse between the hypnotizing breasts of Philomel.

Eyes off those milk-wagons, you damned fool. You're too f*cking old to embarrass yourself like that.

His demure attention turning back to Philomel, he carefully considered her words.

"Yes, I had myself some company, I guess my poker face is slipping." He laughed at himself, a bashful nod as he quickly checked to ensure shoes were still attached to his feet. "As for you, well..."

"I think you scare the shit out of Shin, actually. Hard to tell; maybe you just intimidate him. I can't blame him; his experience is a bit limited, and you strike quite the impression." The electromancer was concerned he was rambling, circling back to the girl. He'd return conversation to the woman; Storm had learned many ladies found themselves to be a wonderful topic of conversation.

"He certainly didn't spell out your old occupation, but it doesn't really matter. Far better to quicken heartbeats than to stop them, no?"

[Atzar]

What Nicolette decided to stay with Atzar for a while, he nodded. “Be my guest,” he assented. He found the young woman to be a pleasant, relaxing companion, especially when compared to the eclectic, increasingly-raucous crowd that milled about the room.

He turned his attention to his stew. It was a rather plain meal – meat, potatoes, vegetables, not much seasoning – but it was warm and filling. The hungry wizard spooned it down with the occasional swallow of beer, eyes watching the action all the while. He observed with something between amusement and anxiety as a woman with four eyes and a mask stalked random people, ferociously doling out… hugs? Atzar didn’t know what to make of that.

As he neared the bottom of the bowl, a newcomer arrived. Trailing mud and soaked through, the middle-aged man’s blotchy skin didn’t present an image of good health. So when he offered his bottle of booze to the mage and his friend, Atzar eyed it suspiciously. “What is it?” he asked. But Nicolette agreed to his company, and the man sat down.

“A round for the room!” The new voice sounded from the far end of the bar, near the stairs. Coins clattered on the countertop, followed by a roar as patrons took the man up on his offer. The mage noted that his own drink was starting to run low, and he waited for an opportunity to signal the suddenly-harried bartender for a replacement.

One he had finally met the bartender’s eyes and received the desired nod of acknowledgment, he turned to the mottled-skinned newcomer. “What’s your name, stranger?” he asked. “I’m Atzar.”

[Philomel]

Veridian waited with an unusual amount of excitement, tail swishing manically from left to right. His change from being pride-hurt to this now intrigued, happy little pup was something of a turn for him. But Philomel in her neraly ten years with him had seen more peculiar things. Through all of her close romances (there had been a girl called Astarelle for a while, probably the closest Philomel could claim in any way to a true feeling of romantic love) she had seen Veridian grow more and more jealous with each one. Shinsou was/had been merely the latest to aggravate Veridian in what could be a challenge to the main male in Philomel's life.

Aside from Delath the dragon of course. And aside from Vaeron.

Philomel threw the thought of her daughter, so close nearby, out of her head. For now, she wouldn't that about that. Celandine was happy and healthy at least. Instead she focused in on Storm, her eye keeping Veridian and his scrawled words in the corner of her eye.

"I intimidate Shinsou?" she asked, rather surprised. "I scare him? I do not see why not?" She grinned slightly, taking up her drink again and taking a medium-length long draught. Pausing then, she proceeded to point out no less than three females and one male out of the damp and mixed-emotional crowd that made up this enjoyable pub.

Lowering her voice she listed off names. "Mandrake," she pointed to the young man, a rare beauty, "Stefanie and Esper," she gestured at two human women, one flirting, the other standing and watching, "And Partalia," last was an elf, with long flowing hair, slumped in a corner looking utterly bored. Philomel looked back to Storm. "I could tell you their histories, where they came from and why they have been better off under my scheme than any other hand." She shrugged, "To put it short, I started off as one of them, though with a little murder thrown in, and knew there needed to be a change in the world."

A wide smile appeared across her face, "That is my occupation and history spelt out to no real detail and a few words for you. How was it? And how was your company?"

[Jethro]

Upon hearing his recruiter order a round for every one on his dime Jethro turned and raised the tankard in thanks "You are most gracious!" he shouted in full voice before ordering a boilermaker and placing the brimming pitcher of mead back on the bar he gave a dancers bow to the young lady in his presence. "Thank you for the invitation" then he turned to the ladies companion "It's a pitcher of mead, it might be over kill but over kill is under rated. Please have a drink." He smiled his teeth were white at any rate and took a seat.

"My name is Jethro. It's nice to meet you Mr. Atzar." He poured out a glass of the warm mead for each of the pair he had sat with. "What is your name lady?" He asked in a most cordial tone. His boiler maker was delivered in a timely manner. Now most people drinking such a drink tends to power the entire thing down in as few drinks as possible. Jethro how ever was different treating it as a sipping drink meant to be savored rather than to be used to get drunk on. He smiled at the pair raising on last cursory toast to the electromance who bought him his drink.

[Venex Apara]

After seeing the redheaded woman, who apparently just happened to be in the same tavern as them (seriously, what are the odds?), Ven went silent. He didn't doubt Eteri, he could feel her fear. Genuine fear. Fear that one does not attain on a fluke nor can be replicated. No, she was the real deal.

And he hated her for that. His emotions had a face to attach too. How he wished he could teach her a lesson. He wanted her to suffer for what she did. He wanted her to hurt. Not a quick one, but one drawn out for a long time.

This train of thought was unlike him, but when dealing with such situations, Ven figured he could make an exception here.

But how could he? He knew nothing of the the deadly red flower before him.

Who was she, and why did she do what she did? Ven eyed the masked figure conversing with the Red Rose as he has now dubbed her.

The masked figure would probably be his best bet at gathering information. Plan for later as Eteri noticed his silence.

At the mention of Archie, Ven smiled. He hasn't seen the old bastard in a bit, but he was glad he was helping Eteri. Archie wasn't one for charity, so for him to do that meant a lot to him.

He'd thank him next time he saw him.

Then Eteri asked the big question about how he's been. This Ven had to think about before answering. "Well, I've been ok I guess. It still feels weird, but nothing I can't deal with. I've also been having weird dreams, and my eyes keep having this throbbing sensation a lot recently."

Ven's eyes widened, then he he corrected himself. "That's not from you. I've been having that since I took that weird job from Archie, the one that left me beat up. Speaking of, my arm is still sore from what happened when we went out the window. You pay for the next round of drinks."