Fetch Quest

[Ceidon]

This thread is open to all. If we get to 200 posts before calling it quits, I will abuse my powers and give everyone with ten or more posts a little something extra (exactly what is TBD). There's an OOC thread here (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?25546-Fetch-Quest) detailing the quest. There are only two rules: 1) keep your posts short (no need for quality) and 2) there is no posting order, so post when you can. If you have any questions, post in that OOC thread or shoot me a PMThe Iron Horse Saloon in Jadet was unusually busy that evening. Last week, a large deposit of Dehlar was discovered up north in the Comb Mountains and the small coastal town in Corone was playing host to a cadre of traveling miners looking to strike it rich. Ceidon Lore, adventurer extraordinare, had just returned from Lornius on business with the Order of the Golden Dawn and was pleased to see all the commotion in his usually dull hometown.

Always at the center of attention, Ceidon sat on a stool at the bar with a 40 oz. mug of Coronian Light Ale in his hand. He was sharing a laugh with two usually short bearded dwarves while their mercenary, an orc, stood silently behind them. "Does he ever talk?" Ceidon asked with a snort. "Only if you're a hairy dwarven midwife," one of the dwarves replied. Ceidon didn't get the joke, but laughed hysterically anyway.

When the laughter subsided, Ceidon took a swig of his ale and spun around in his stool. Most of the regulars were scowling from the corners of the bar, clearly annoyed by the town's visitors. One regular, though, was eating up the extra attention. Town drunk, Gary Etrl-Berry, was surrounded by at least ten people. "Do ya'll want to hear a story?" He asked. No one in his group answered. "C'mon guys," he slurred. Ceidon felt bad for the guy, so he yelled out, "Tell us a story, Gary!"

Soon his dwarf companions joined in. "Yeah lad, tell us a story." Within moments the entire bar, sans the regulars and a few mercenaries, had turned to Gary and were eagerly awaiting his tale.

[Allennia]

Allennia could think of only one thing when a loud, boisterous voice filled the tavern. She knew better than to say it aloud, lest someone take offence. One thing she had learnt in her short time outside her secluded kingdom was that somebody always took offence.

She watched the man she assumed to be ‘Gary’ intently. Her brow furrowed, beading with sweat caused by the fiery whiskey she had selected from amongst the few clean bottles behind the counter. After three days ride through the shale forest, it was exactly what she needed. Tall tales and drunken bravado, on the other hand, were uncouth distractions for which her noble inclination had little tolerance.

“This should be entertaining,” she relented. She leant her arm on the back of the rickety chair, set her gauntlet at ease, and hoped to find some sort of relief from the tedium of duty, honour, and station.

[Wilfred]

All ears turned towards the drunk, save for one rather green pair. The orc became aware of a heavy panting sound around his knees, and looked down into the most ludicrously wide grin he had ever seen. A black-and-brown mottled dog was sitting by his feet, staring happily up at the mercenary, its tongue waggling back and forth from a gaping maw. The animal licked its chops - making a sound like two raw steaks being slapped together in the process - and began to sniff the orc's boots. He frowned, and pushed it firmly away with one heavy foot. The dog merely grunted, picked up some unidentifiable debris it had previously looted from the waste out back, and slunk away under Gary's table.

"Alright, lessee 'ere", Gary slurred, as a wet slurping noise at his feet grew in intensity. "This 'un's fer all a youse newcomersers... ers. 'S impotent. Ver' impotent".

The two dwarves sniggered behind their mugs, and even the orc cracked a faint smile. Gary took a deep breath, hiccuped, made a slightly panicked-looking face, promptly took a few more gulps of ale, and continued.

"Y'all ever hear of The Grinning Man?".

[Krausus]

Arron wanted nothing but some good food and fresh ale. So he wandered into the tavern in the little seaside town and sat down next to a man. He flipped a couple gold coins onto the table and yelled "Get me some ale and a good bowl of thick stew!"

Once his food and drink arrived he plowed through it. He shouted for another mug of ale and tried to talk to the man next to him. Who was apparently telling a man named Gary to tell a story. "Hello, good ale right?" Arron said. After the man didnt reply he gave up and listened to the man tell his story.

[Ceidon]

"Was that a dog?" Ceidon mumbled when something brushed past his leg. He shook his head and turned to Gary, who'd just begun his story.

"Aye, the 'Grinning Man'. He's a real person you know. Name was Derek Garrett. T'was a miner from right here in Jadet" he burped the first syllable of the town's name, causing more laughter. "Bout 10 years ago, ole' Garrett come back from the mines one day looking like he'd seen a Thane. His hair was standing straight up an' it looked like he'd aged 20 years in a hour. The thing was, though, when he came back he had this shit eating grin locked on his face. It was like his jaw was broken..."

Ceidon's attention weigned. He'd heard this one before. In fact, the Order did an investigation on the "grinning man," coming to the conclusion that old Garrett was exposed to a deadly amount of magical radiation when one of the Alerarian drilling devices malfunctioned. Ceidon yawned and took a quick glance around the bar. His eyes immediately fell on the beautiful young lady sipping on a glass of firewhiskey. She must be one of the mercenaries. As a bachelor, Ceidon knew most of the twenty-something women in Jadet, and none of them were as striking as this young lass.

After taking another sip of liquid courage, Ceidon climbed to his feet. He motioned to his dwarf companions that he would be right back, and walked over to the lady knight. "Hey," he said when he arrived, but before he could finish, Ceidon tripped on a bar stool and went sprawling to the ground. His drink, unfortunately, went flying right at the woman's chest. "Oh no!" he exclaimed, jumping to his feet. "I'm so sorry. Let me get you a napkin." Ceidon reached over the bar to grab a napkin, knocking over two more drinks in the process. "Woops, sorry." he said. "Here you go," he said, turning back to the woman, napkins in hand. "I'm Ceidon Lore!" he said with a sheepish grin.

"...you want to know what I think really happened?" Gary finished in the background. "I think ole' Garrett found himself some bit of evil magic in that mine that done killed him."

[Ashley]

The bartender approached the newly occupied stool at the main counter, where a young cheerful looking little elf sat, staring up at him with a cheeky smile.

"You're not allowed to be in here little miss." The man put his hands on his hips, and glared at her sternly.

"Why's that?" She replied with a cute mock pout, rocking back and forth childishly in her seat.

"It's too rowdy. Not a place for little elves. You might get yerself hurt, or worse, and I can't have that giving me a bad name, so scram."

Ashley giggled, ceasing her rocking back and forth, only to begin swaying her legs. "Oh please." She couldn't help but let out another giggle. "You think I can't handle a couple of drunk oafs?" The look she gave him almost had a hint of condescension. She raised up her gloved hand, and summoned a little wisp of wind that began to dance across her fingertips. "I wont get into any trouble, I promise." She gave him another childish grin, and reluctantly the bartender let her be, going off to serve the other patrons.

It was then that the commotion in the tavern quieted some, and Ashley turned her head to listen to the tale of the town drunk.

[Aurelianus Drak'shal]

Sitting in a shadowy alcove, at the back of the crowded bar, Aurelius chuckled to himself.

Every time one of these backwood little anthills 'as somethin' go tits up, he mused, throwing back another shot of Aleraran T'keela, they always blame it on "evil magic".

Sadly, it was rarely as exciting as all that. He turned his serpentine eyes away from the drunk story-teller, and back to the card game he was enjoying with two other cutters who had arrived with the recent influx of miners. They were grinning away like a prize pair of gullies, not realising the half-demon was cheating them of their meager wages. So far, since he had set foot in this neck of the woods, Aurelianus hadn't had to spend a single penny of his own jink- in bars like this, there was always someone addle-coved enough to play one of his games.

Shifting in his seat, bladed armour scratching into the wood, he kept his ears parked, listening to the tale more out of idle amusement than actual interest. Perched on his shoulder, hissing quietly in its master's ear, Junior toyed with one of the copper coins from Aurelius' winnings-pile. Its tiny scalpel-fingers scraped against the metal, while the needle-teeth lining its maw clicked against the coin in an infuriating staccato rhythm. The familiar- an albino elf foetus, animated through real evil magic- stretched the crow wings emerging from its pale back, and let out a bored yawn. More than one patron glanced at the vile little creature, before turning away in disgust.

Inhaling a lungful of smoke from the cigarette dangling between his lips, he laid out his cards for the other two to see. A winning hand. Again. They cursed fluently, and finally called it quits, leaving the table grumbling under their breath. The tiefling smirked, gathering his small mound of coins in front of him before he started shuffling the cards again. He paused at one point, to throw a small strip of dried meat to the dog that was wandering about. He liked dogs. He did. But, with his half-breed heritage most animals disliked him. Aye, but then again, most people 'ate your guts too, the little voice in the back of his head chimed in merrily. He ignored it, scanning the crowds for a likely body to peel.

Surely there was another sod in here with pockets that could use lightening.

[Lasair Anubail]

Lasair glanced around the crowded bar filled with all sorts of humans, tall and short, drunk and sober and plenty of those in between. She’d been in plenty of places like this before, they were the best place to meet someone after all. Oh, and to get herself in lots of trouble, which she seemed to do quite often these days. Ever since leaving Dheathain, though if she thought hard enough about it she’d probably realize she got in plenty of trouble before leaving Dheathain. She just didn’t bother to think about it.

Most of the seats in the place were taken, but she spotted a table where a couple men quickly vacated and a rather interesting looking fellow now sat alone, playing with some little pieces of paper or some such. He looked like no other race on Althanas she’d ever met before and immediately her interest was peeked.

“Come on, Godhand, let’s go meet him!”

Grabbing the twelve inch plushie by the waist, Godhand barely had time to let out a garbled ‘gah’ before being hauled off the counter, away from his prized ale and dragged towards the table. She slipped her slight frame into the seat opposite the strange looking guy--were those really spikes for hair?--and did the one thing she was exceedingly good at; ignoring all danger signs.

“Hi!” She said rather cheerfully. “I’m Lasair, what’s your name?”

[Libertine]

“You’re cheating,” snarled the man across the table.

Sceatt smirked a little and tried not to feel too self satisfied. This was difficult. Particularly when you’re a person practically made of pride and self satisfaction the way most living creatures were made of pounds of meat and gallons of blood. The most she had succeeded in was not purring like a cat.

Goddamn it and she was cheating, but the thing about cheating was that everyone did it, and the dishonest man always fell for it faster than you could say go fish. Even Fate cheated, except that son of a bitch refused to let his self be cheated back, though Sceatt figured there would be a way around that eventually, and preferably by her hand.

The occasional honest man wouldn’t cheat and couldn’t be cheated, but Sceatt saw no honest man in her near vicinity—just a dog, many a drunkards, the rare woman or two, and other miscellaneous creatures. Your usual tavern mix, thank you very much. One of them was telling a story about a grinning somebody or the other, and Sceatt caught a word of ‘evil magicks’ somewhere, but none of it sounded very interesting.

Instead, she stuffed another sachet of hard won coins into her brassiere with agonizing slowness, inch by slowly inch. Then with palms out and a not very reassuring grin, she swept her eyes across the table.

“Another game, gentlemen?”

[Aurelianus Drak'shal]

The tiefling raised an eyebrow, looking over the slight little thing that sat opposite him.

The first thing to grab the half-demon's attention was the pair of butterfly wings emerging from the chit's back, shimmering in the dim light of the tavern. The second was the plush doll in her arms- it turned it's head and stared at him. Perched on his shoulder, Junior let out a short screech at the doll, managing to glare malevolently despite the fact its eyes were stitched shut. Aurelius brought up a finger to hush his familiar, before running a hand over the shaved sides of his head; ever since the ride up in Radasanth with Otto and the other Coronian Armed Forces, the plane-touched warlock had changed his appearance slightly. Not that it'd make a blind bit of difference- he was, if nothing else, unique looking.

"Look, luv, if you're not 'ere to play cards, then there's no point parkin' your arse there. I'm 'ere to make jink, not mates," he sneered, blowing a thin stream of smoke from between his lips. He turned his cold, snake-like eyes to the rest of the room, but there seemed to be no other takers for his rigged games. He sighed, running his black, forked tongue over his fangs. Well, that's that then.. And besides, if the chant held true, the creature before him was one of the Fae- one of the few races Aurelius hadn't managed to meet in his time on Althanas. A wicked smirk spread over his face as more of the chant came back to him- it was said, in whispered circles, that the blood of the Fae was rich in magickal potential.

Well now, maybe we can get some and find out.

"You can call me Aurelius, luv," he said, idly counting the coins he'd won over the course of the night.

Aurelianus tucked his deck away in a coat pocket, hanging from the back of his chair, leaving his vicious-armour on display. Everything about him screamed "threat!".. and yet, here this chit was, smiling away almost manically opposite him, still waiting for a name apparently. She's obviously barmy, then, he thought. He waved over a bar-wench, and pointed to his empty glass.

"Three T'keelas when your ready, luv," he said, taking another draw from his cigarette. He turned his gaze to the girl-- Lasair, he thought she'd said. "And what are you drinkin'?" he asked.

[Lasair Anubail]

“Oh, I’ll have some more fire water, please! Straight up, no diluting it with any real water, and Godhand would like another pint of ale, since he already finished the other one!” Lasair told the bar wench.

“I didn’t finish the other one,” Godhand grumbled as she released him, “you dragged me from the bar before I could even get a drink in! That’s a cruel thing to do to an old man like me.”

The twelve in replica of Godhand Striker stretched out and climbed up to his favourite perch on Lasair’s shoulder. Her other two plushies were currently sleeping in her bag, and by sleeping she meant they were in a drunken state of stupor, or a stupor of drunk? She didn’t know. Avery mentioned something about taking Tristram’s pants off, Tristram got offended, they got in a fight and bam! She relegated them to time out in the Never-Ending Rucksack.

“Aurel--Aura--I’m just gonna call you Aur, that’s a cool name. Can I ask you something? You seem like an interesting guy and I’ve been places in Althanas but I’ve never seen someone that looks like you.”

The Godhand plushie leaned down close to her ear. “Uhh, love, I really don’t think you should be hanging out with this one. Remember Dan Lagh’ratham, sweet?”

Of course she remembered Dan. She threw an ice bomb at him during the war between Imperial and N.W.O., but he’d mumbled something about small fry to her and walked away. Then she’d ended up fighting some old guy named Teric Bloodrose instead, he punched her in the stomach! It really hurt…either way, she remembered Dan. She wanted to make a plushie out of him. He’d looked pretty cute. Probably make a real nice, squishy plushie for her growing collection.

She ignored Godhand, who thankfully had something else to concentrate on when the drinks returned. Taking a sip of her fire water, Lasair shivered as she felt the burn go all the way down her stomach and then spread out to her limbs. Even her wings felt it.

Fortified by alcohol--not that she needed it--Lasair went right back to asking Aur questions.

“Are those spikes on your head real? Do they hurt? Are they sharp? Can I touch one!? Pleeeeeaaaasssseee!!!”

[Wilfred]

The wet gnawing sound beneath Gary's table ceased as the strip of meat bounced across the stained old floorboards. A wet nose peeked out from under one of the occupants' chairs, pointed at the treat and sniffing in a short, sharp staccato rhythm. Slowly, the dog eased out, its eyes set warily upon the tiefling idling nearby, and inched towards its prey. The going was slow and careful, until the barmaid moved in between Aurelius and the beast - whereupon Wilfred seized his chance, and the meat, and swiftly darted away.

Just half way across the tavern floor, Wilfred stopped dead. His whole frame perked up; head high, one front paw suspended in midair, ears oscillating wildly in an attempt to pinpoint the high-pitched giggle with had just carried through the room. Wilfred snapped around to face the establishment's bar, and the short figure of a young elf at one of the seats. All caution now forgotten, the dog began to trot happily up to the counter and the girl, tail wagging back and forth all the while.

He dropped the hunk of meat at the foot of the seat, looked up at Ashley with his usual wide grin, and gave a short, expectant little bark.

[Aurelianus Drak'shal]

Aurelius blinked.

Had she really just said all of that? His mind took a moment to register how much he hated this chit, before he sank his drinks. The tiefling paused, realising his hand was resting on the grip of one of his Baatorian knives, sheathed at the small of his back- he knew he could move faster than pretty much any cutter in the room. It'd be easy to nick her and be halfway out of the room before anyone noticed she was in the Dead-book... but, as he threw back the three shots, he held back for the minute. Since his rather bloody escape from Coronian's "best and brightest", he was keeping a low profile- working behind the scenes, the Anarchist had been finding like-minded individuals, and setting up faction cells across Corone. Eventually, he would have at least one in every city. But for now he was starting small.

He took a deep breath, stubbing out his cigarette, before lighting up another one in the same breath. For once, murder was not the easiest option.

"You reach for my quills, luv, and you'll pull back a bloodied stump." His serpentine eyes held the Fae's vacant gaze, ignoring her almost nauseating cheeriness. "And if you call me "Aur" one more time," he sneered, his sharp fangs catching the light of the room, "I will take you out back and my dick won't leave your arse 'til rigor mortis sets in."

Satisfied he'd made his point clear enough, the tiefling took his hand away from his knives, and started stroking Junior. The foetus let out a tiny hiss, its pinions shivering and stretching out wide, the scalpel-fingers scratching over Aurelius right shoulder. Miniscule beads of black blood surfaced on his alabaster flesh, barely noticeable against the tattoos (http://s636.photobucket.com/user/Anarchist147/media/AurelianusDrakshal.jpg.html?sort=3&o=86) covering his bare skin.

The warlock tapped a fingertip impatiently against the scarred table-top, waiting for the chit to get up and leave, smirking a little as he marked the dog snatching up the meat and disappearing into the crowds. But, Lasair stayed there, and drank her firewater. And all the while, her plush toy sat and glared at the half-breed.. well, as hatefully as a foot high teddy could.

"And what the pikin' 'ell are you starin' at!?" Aurelius snapped.

[Ashley]

The young elf's interest in the drunk man's tale faded, and she turned to face the bar again. She scoffed at the tall man sitting to her left after she inhaled some of the thick acrid smoke from his cigar, the pungent scent making her nose scrunch up. Noticing an unattended mug filled to the brim with dark frothy ale sitting on the counter, She leaned intrusively over the man sitting sitting on her right, to his annoyance, to grab the drink by the handle and drag it back to her portion of the counter. She brought the drink to her nose, and took a big whif of its scent. It was a powerful smell, and it made her shiver, but she decided to sample it anyway. She lifted the mug, quite heavy for such a small girl, and took a swig of the ale. Noticing this, the man sitting to her right gave her a very disconcerting grin. The stiff drink went down hard, making her shake, the mouthful almost immediately bringing a fuzziness to her head.

"Bleh."

Ashley stuck her tongue out in disgust, pushing the mug away from her. She didn't really understand what made places like these so popular. They smelled bad, and the drink everybody seemed to be guzzling down tasted horrible. She wiped her mouth of the foul liquid, and raised her head to see an angry looking bartender.

"Oi! Where did you get that missy? This is why little children aren't allowed. This drink isn't for you." He snatched the mug up, and turned to begin walking away, mumbling under his breath. "She's lucky I don't take her by the scruff and boot her out the door..."

She didn't really care. There wasn't a chance she was going to brave another sip. She clearly couldn't hold her alcohol, the sip she did have setting in and making her lightheaded.

She nearly bounced out of her seat in surprise when she heard a loud bark from behind her. She quickly spun around to the noise, and gave the pooch a wide grin. "Doggy!" She giggled, reaching down to stroke the top of his head with her small un-gloved hand, then reached under his chin to give it a scratch. "Good boy!" She exclaimed, happily swaying her legs back and forth.

[Lasair Anubail]

Lasair blinked in surprise at the…uhh, person? called Aurelius. She’d honestly never had someone talked to her like that before. She’d been yelled at--heck she’d been in countless screaming matches with her sister and Tristram, some with the two of them at once--but she’d never had someone so blatantly tell her that he wanted to shove his penis inside her before. And in her behind too. Why would he even want to put it in there? What was the point? She imagined that might hurt a lot, at least for her. And until rigor mortis set in? Was that some like super awesome version of an orgasm that she’d never heard of before? Perhaps it’s what happened when guys put it in ‘there’.

She silently watched him play with his little pet thing while she drank back her fire water. The creature thing seemed to have a lot of little sharp aspects to it. She wondered how it didn’t hurt Aurelius. Or where he happened to get it.

Godhand drained half his mug of ale, nearly the same size as him, in one go and then burped rather loudly. One of his lovingly crafted vlince hands coming up and wiping away the excess and foam from around his mouth.

“Just staring at your ugly ass, is all.”

“Godhand, that’s not nice to call him ugly!” Lasair said, reprimanding the plushie.

He gaped at her incredulously. “Love, he just told you he wants to take you out back and *beep* you until your *beep* and then you *beep*.”

“I don’t even know what that means!”

Godhand slapped a hand on his forehead and dragged it down his face. “Why don’t you just let him do it then and you can find out.”

She contemplated it as she took another sip of her drink and when she went silent, Godhand practically had kittens on the table top.

“Don’t you dare even think about letting that freaky half demon do anything to you, or I swear, I will drag your ass back to Donnalaich myself!”

“Oh, he’s a half demon!?” She turned and looked at Aurelius, with all his tattoos and freaky armour. “You’re a half demon? Is that why your teeth are all sharp and pointy? I could probably do some really cool things with demon blood. Think of the items I could make, Godhand!”

The plushie just groaned and smacked his head off the table, clearly giving up for the moment.

[Allennia]

Allennia had spent several minutes expressing an erudite desire for ‘Ceidon Lore’ to be on his merry way. She was neither fazed nor offended by the incident, and she did not much care for her garments, so long as it continued to protect her from sharper things than the man’s lacklustre wit.

“It really is quite alright,” she said, for a fourth time. She dabbed her shoulder, removing the excess liquid, and then stared at him politely. At least, she stared at him politely as she could muster whilst staring.

“If you’ve quite finished bluster squalling…” She paused. She was surprised at how quickly her tone and demeanour had become ‘country’. “Take a seat,” she said, as she pointed at said seat. “Perhaps you can tell me who that dapper looking…half-pint?” She shrugged. She was not sure if there was a non-polite word for dwarf. “Perhaps you can tell me who he is, and what this ruck-us about evil magic is?”

She picked up her glass. She edged her stool closer. She forgot her titles, ranks, and rituals. She was starting, all too quickly, to become just another bum on a seat in a rank little tavern.

[Krausus]

Arron listened to the conversations here as there. He sat down at the bar and ordered a noted the ale that the barmaid set at his spot. He nodded his thanks and flipped some gold her way.

After eight or nine drink and a hell of a hangover later. Arron just wandered around. He was looking for something to do. Make a tad of gold. He was running out of tricks to show at the bar anyway. So he fought a fight. He had run into a man who he then beat. He didnt take the miner's gold but instead flipped a little rock in the air. It spun for a second before falling twoers the grounds. Pointing towards Arron. He had a forlorn look on his face. The miner was found in the alley the next day.

[Wilfred]

Wilfred seemed more than pleased with the attention; he closed his eyes, the smile widened a little, and his tail began to wag from side to side. It raised faint clouds of dust as it swept across the floor in one direction, and thudded rhythmically against the bar on the reverse swing. After a few seconds, he stood up, and started to sniff the young elf's hand inquisitively.

Meanwhile, the ruckus caused by Gary's inebriated monologue hadn't quite died down. "Gary, yer a thrice-damned fool", yelled one dust-caked miner. "T'were them blasted Aleran contraptions what done fer Derek. Ol' Minkeley even went and brought in one o' them slims to have a gander at it".

"Oh? Oh? Izzat right, now?", Gary slurred. "'At's what Min, Min, Minkellerly said, sure enough. Bloke who we ain't heard from was that slim. He packed up quick fast with ne'er so much as a word to us folks". Some of his audience chuckled at Gary's tenacity, while others jeered. The drunk, however, went went on, red-faced and shouting over the commotion. "I bet all your mothers sang you the Ballad of Smiling Jack when you was nowt but bairns. Where d'you think that came from, aye? Jack were the first, that we know of. Poor Derek just be the last".

At the back of the tavern, someone began to sing in a cracked, laughing voice. Others soon joined in, and an off-key chorus sprung up.

"Old Man Jack, he be smiling swell,
Old Man Jack, done fell down a well.
Now if you see old Jack, you'd better homeward race -
For Old Man Jack's come to fix that smile upon your face!"

[Timmareus]

The traveller stepped through the door to the establishment's main room, straightened his robe while taking a quick glance around and strode towards the end of the bar, bypassing a seemingly embarrassed man standing in front of it before coming to rest on a stool next to what appeared to be some manner of small child playing with her dog.

After leaning his staff against the wall he adressed the barkeeper with a big smile plastered on his face. "A fine day to you, my good man! I would be much obliged if you might serve me a mug of clear water."

The man behind the counter answered with a disparaging look. "We don't normally serve water, son. Might be you'd wanna take your drinking somewhere else."

Timmareus put a few coins on the counter, accompanied by a dismissive wave of his hand, the grin never leaving his face. "I'm certain you will manage, good sir."

Grumbling under his breath but pocketing the money nonetheless the barkeep rummaged around behind his counter, then forcefully put down a big mug.
"There. Water."

Nodding cheerily, the traveller pulled back part of his robe to retrieve some granular substance from a pocket on the inside, depositing it in the water. He then took a small wooden spoon from a different pocket and stirred his drink. Setting down the spoon and taking a big sip, the man let out a satisfied sigh as a sweet and spicy fragrance filled his immediate surroundings. He began to quietly hum along with the refrain of the song being sung around him.

[Krausus]

He sat down near a man. He had no hair. More of a head of. Quills. Arron wanted only a person to try out his new ability. A way to impose his emotions upon others. He learned tha basics of it from an old scroll. That he couldn't read but. Sensed. He pulled out a coin and throw it at the mug labeled "payment" He shrugged.

"ALE. NOW."

He got his ale. And was content. Except when the dog looked at his. That smile. Ugh. It hurts. To see. Something, anything so happy was not natural.

Arron walked out of the par shrugged at one of the bouncers that had planted themselves by the door. He was just out setting up his camp when he heard the rustles. He put them off for a while.

Arron ft the shift slowly. Feeling new memories. Fresh into his mind. He felt a new name "Sirius" he slowly stared at the sky wondering why this shift was coming now. He took it up. Changed around his look for a second as his eyes shifted color from a deep black to a grey. His hair flared brighter and his posture straightened. He allowed the changes to take in. Then surrendered his mind to his new life.

Somewhere near Radasanth some ashes floated on the wind into the fields of the farmers working nearby...

[Krausus]

Well just for this-" Sirius abruptly ended his shout. He saw no point his ruining his visit to the mines. He walked off. Firing a glare at the miners around him for good measure he strode into town and to the bar where he ordered a drink and listened in as a man was talking about fetching something from a long lost ruin.