A new direction [Open]

[Firestrife]

[ If anything gained from this, I'd like a map of Althanas. Being a brand new character, he obviously doesn't know where things are, or what things are. ]

From the entrance, of the Underwood tavern, a crack of light peeped out oak door. Creeking, light brought it self into the dark and dreary atmosphere. Standing in the door way, his black leather glove resting up against the oak. With his fingers being pulled back, he partially curled them. As he gazed across the smoke-filled hazy tavern, the young warrior was interrupted by the disgruntal patrons.

"Close the damn door! What's the matter, were you born in a barn!?"

"Get out, you bum!"

"Ten dollah, suki-suki!"

Shaifs had heard a large group of voices shout out to him, one in particularily scared him, however not knowing why. His largest encounter with humans thus far and they were very intriguing. Wih his hands forced into the air, now blocking and guarding his face with the flying object which made his way, Shaifs quickly moved in away from the open door. As he stepped away, the light had subsided, the partons once acting like wild beasts rejoiced silently in the gloom. Coming around the stools to the bar counter, he turned the corner, which he soon would find to be a mistake. He came in contact with a large elephantine wench, who had meat hanging from her stuffed mouth. Immediately the meat dropped from her mouth grotesquely and began to push him away.

"Hey hey shining boy, you can't be back here!"

She shouted at Shaifs and he took a few steps back, the area now obviously for the serving wenches only.

"Ugh, shit, you'ze a HUGE bitch!"

Without thinking he sputtered out, then came that horrid sound. With the wenche's head coming up, giving a look of fire from her eye sockets, she rushed toward Shaifs with a noice which could only be explained as a horse being raped by a hippo in antagonizing pain. Once again returning to the living, Shaifs rubbed his back of his wrist over his cloudy eyes, bringing himself to a vision, the bar-mistress, she stood over the coutner staring down at her with her dark eyes and olive skin. For reasons unknown he held a smirk as her clevage which was nearly popping itself out, was staring Shaifs directly in the face. Standing up, he swung a leg up and around the stool, standing across the young bar maiden.

"Sweetie, you're cute. Not many can create that much entertainment so soon."

Chuckling, Shaifs dropped his shoulders, accepting the frosty ale, his gloved fingers curling around the handle, the foam came to his lips, as he guzzled the ale down. With the mug down, he looked to see the dark olive skinned beauty staring at him, leaning forward on her elbows into his dark purple eyes.

"Where are you from, I never seen you around here before."

"Well, I ..don't know."

This created a weird, look on her face. With her small cold hand, it rested over his forearm.

"How do you not know, do you have amnesia?"

"Look! I just don't know! I don't know where this place is, so I can't tell you where I am from!"

He snapped at her and drew his arm back, as if he suddenly became offended coming off at the girl. The barkeep responded testily to Shaifs sudden action. Bringing his hands to her cuvacious hips, rocking her head with attitude.

"Nuh-uh! Look here mister, don't talk to me like that! I wouldn't want to give you a sex change, so play nice with me."

This caused him to blink rapidly, turning his head to the entrance he began to think to himself. 'Sex change? Is that possible, AHA! I knew it... she is some kind of amazing sorceress!'

He thought to himself, he then returned his gaze to her dark eyes, and slouched in his spot sighing, already growing tired with having to deal with humans and their ways.

"Sorry, so tell me. Do you know where I can get any work in a place like this?"

[Khalxaen]

Khalxaen eyed the scene while nibbling on some meat on a stick. The boy who had entered seemed so oblivious of what he was doing, and though he looked perfectly normal, he acted so out of the place. Who in their right mind would pick fights with the people who worked around here. Not that he had actually picked fights with them, but he did say some stuff which could be found offending by some people. Khalxaen, the scarlet-eyed demon was seating on a stool.

She watched as the boy asked the barkeep if there was any chance he could get work at a place like that. That was when Khalxaen cut in. She said, “That’s not a very good idea, getting a job in here. You should probably do some missionary work instead, like hunt monsters or whatever. They have a lot of that in Scara Brae.”

Khalxaen stared at the boy for awhile, her scarlet-eyes almost embedding into his. Then she spoke up again,

“But it’s really your own decision, if you want to stay here and try to keep up with the rude customers and awful pay.”

She didn’t even know why she had started babbling like that. Khalxaen always did things like that, striking up random conversations with strangers. It was more of a habit that an act of manners, but she never could help shutting up if she knew something.

Then she grinned and took a gulp from her drink. She knew how it was to work in a bar, since she was a drifter for some time now and she often had to choose between two jobs---missionary jobs and being a bartender. The first one was always the more exciting one. The girl who kept the bars in that place didn’t seem to pleased with Khalxaen’s cutting in, since they might have wanted more employees.

[Firestrife]

The glance between the young swordsman, and the voluptuous bar maiden was interupted by a stranger. With his dark purple eyes, Shaifs glanced to his side, looking at the one who had jumped into the conversation. At first, Shaifs didn't say anything, he held his breath and eyes sut, he then opened his mouth to the girl, not paying attention to the tone of voice, not distinguishing between sexes. "HEY! ... Oh it's just a girl."

He started by raising his voice, in anger, then taking a glance at the girl, mistaking her for a human he withheld his animosity. He sighed and closed his eyes, feeling frustrated. This was all new to him, and if not for the fact he was nearly broke, and didn't know where to go from here, he would have taken off by now. From over his left shoulder, he looked to the long hilt, his purple pupils then glanced down to his right side, looking at the steel tip of his blade, he then looked back up at the girl. He noticed her ears, he then gave a smile, thinking that he found a friend. "Mára aurë!"

Estatically he greeted her in elvish, he then paused for a moment, shrugging as people gave him a weird look as he spoke in Elvish tongue. He glanced back to the girl, and asked her. "Scara Brae? Sorry ...I really don't know my way around, where I am, or where anything is."

His voice had calmed down and took a melancholy tone. Parting his lips, a dry sigh escaped from his mouth, glancing to the female beside her, looking to her drink. Shaifs took his mug up in his left hand, and tilted his head back he finished the ale. He set the mug down infront of the bar wench, shifting his glance back at her, staring at her with suspicion. Keeping one brow raised as he looked at her, failing to notice that he was acting more than suspicious himself.

[Khalxaen]

The demon flinched, her hand tempting to get a hold on her sword and completely striking the boy with it. She was a creature of impulse, and her temper wasn’t the best one out there. Even though her hand twitched for her weapon, though, she let her mouth do the attacking. Khalxaen snarled, “What do you mean just a girl!?”

She sighed, relaxing her face to let go of her anger momentarily. This wasn’t the time and place to find a new foe—what she actually needed was someone to stay on her side, whether or not she was underestimated. She listened to the greeting of the boy, though the language seemed a bit foreign, it took her a moment to realize what it meant. Khalxaen blinked at the boy. He was another one who thought she was an elf, not that it bothered her so much.

“I’m not Elvin, even though my ears make it look like that.” Khalxaen said bluntly. She watched the boy as he acted as though everything there was suspicious. Posh, he should look at a mirror. What kinda person gets lost in a bar?

The demon grinned to herself. She was being such a hypocrite. It was also her first time in that part of Althanas, and she hardly knew what she was doing. Khalxaen just had enough information to get by.

“Scara Brae, it’s a place where a lot of stuff happen. But I suppose that there are some missionary stuff here in Underwood too, though I haven’t seen much around. I can assure you that it’s much better than waiting tables, though.”

She paused.

“Who the hell are you, anyway?”

[Swing It]

Jak sipped lightly from his pint of cider as he watched events unfold. First some strange blue haired boy is tossed around like a used rag, then some sort of pointy eared girl got into a heated conversation with the boy. Jak knew she wasn't elvish, her ears weren't right. They were too narrow.

Jak had been in this new continent for almost two weeks now and had seen some pretty unusual things occur. Naturally nothing that had happened thus far was any shock to him. It was all simple socialization, nothing too out of the ordinary.

The setting wasn't too pleasent either. The wood molded over in certain areas, a constant haze of smoke and herb filled the room, beer and liquor coated the floor and as for the company, well does anyone like to be sobre amongst a crowd of drunks?

Jak's ears twitched as the graceful sound of his native toungue echoed deep within them. He imediately rose to his feet and shouted.

" Shai sai mael tia sylia? "

It had been such a long while since he had even seen another of elven decent. The particular region he had docked in had thus far been inhabited mainly by humans. He was half human though, so ofcourse he didn't feel out of place. But hearing elvish to him was like seeing an old relative for the first time in years.

[Chiroptera]

The lilting Elven speech struck Eltarri's ears with the comforting shock of an unexpected kiss. Her head lifted, golden eyes darting about the darkened room in search of the source. Her knowledge of the tongue was limited, seventeen years was hardly long enough for a person to master the difficult language, but the beauty of the sounds reminded her of her mother.

"Shai sai mael tia sylia," she repeated in a soft whisper. Just speaking the words brought much-needed comfort. Two months she had been on the road, searching, ever searching for someone who could help, but to no avail. Her once-optimistic view of the world was quickly being changed into a weary resignation to the harsh and unforgiving land that she was forced to wander.
Where was the beauty that she had read about before leaving the caves that had been her home?

Eltarri sipped her drink, grimacing at the bitter taste. The darkness of the bar suited her. The tainted air made her head light, distracting her from the inner turmoil that threatened to plunge her completely into lonely despair. Her gaze locked onto the figure that stood beside his table. She noticed his non-human ears and below-average stature and a rush of hope swept through her.
After so many rejections by her those who shared her human ancestry, here before her was another like her, a half-breed!

[Lisean]

“So, do we have a deal?”

A much older, more capable man was sitting at the chair he had rightfully stolen positioned around the table Lisean had not wished to be disturbed. Over and over.. the guy just would not shut up, nor take a hint that the necromancer was far too busy in his studies to bother with the likes of his own kind. Brushing a couple rebellious strands of long, violet hair behind his ear, Lisean slowly shook his head without taking a gander at the offer of twenty gold coins set onto the table. The man was obviously drunk, by the way his speech was slurred, and his body was swaying to and fro.

“Not interested,” Lisean answered, flipping another page of the Book of Lemot over. The massive compilation of generations was set flat upon the table. The spellcaster leaned forward to hopefully catch better detail on the writing, as if meaning to define it as a rudimentary language. The drunk man belched, forcing Lisean to close his eyes and shake his head slightly in disgust of the man who carried the stench that was rum soaked into simple cloth and tiny scraps of leather.

“C’mon, buddy!” the man exclaimed, slamming his hand down onto the table and adding five more gold pieces to the pile. “Just one trick for me, and me mates?”

“Trick would not be the appropriate term,” the man garbed in black responded, sliding a finger across the page from left to right. “I would appreciate it if you were to say the proper name; Incantation.”

“Aye. In.. Inc.. In-can-ta-tion.”

“Wrong. Leave me be.”

“Not until ye give me what I want!!” the drunk shouted, attaining the attention of customers that were seated around the empty table they were forewarned of. Some of them wished they had not been in the mans shoes. The tender did well in foreboding others in avoiding the area which a man whose life revolved around death sat. The fact that Lisean was now given an entire audience was bothering him. He knew there was no use in trying to hide anymore. Whether he liked it or not, the fact of the matter was people were going to confront him, if interested. Closing the book and folding his hands overtop of it, Lisean’s salmon eyes very slowly raised up to look at the intoxicated pedestrian, offering up the very hint of a smile. Those that could see without fault recognized it as a grin of evil sorts, but men like this one were just giggling in anticipation.

“Are you certain your stomach can comprehend the language of foul arts?”

“Uh huh. Uh huh,” the man answered, nodding his head a little too far in understanding. Lisean smiled, and very slowly rose from his seat, to excite the man opposite him. People grew suspicious, and temporarily halted their conversations and set their sights on the entertainment that was to present itself. Setting his hands upon the table to help support himself, Lisean leaned forward, pressing his waist against the surface while his chest was just about to touch the top of the piece of furniture. The man backed up in his seat, and adjusted a little uncomfortably with the way Lisean was looking at him. He gave the stranger a cold death glare, misunderstood as a method of flirting by the drunk. Eventually, it came to the point where the drunk jumped off the chair, and ran outside with his half-full glass of ale to join his fellow gang of cheapskates. Lisean paused, and slowly sat back down into his seat, smiling to himself.

“I made you disappear..” he whispered to himself, almost as if he were speaking to the man. Peering down at the twenty five gold pieces, he didn’t have to think twice before he realized he wasn’t going to best grabbing them right now. No need to put them away if he had intended to buy himself a few drinks throughout the night, depending on how long he intended to study. Those that were once watching him took their eyes off the necromancer, and went back to their own accords.

Sighing, Lisean picked up his book, and shoved it into his trenchcoat, which was purposefully loose around the chest area so that he could actually fit the massive instrument of darkness inside. His slender body leaned back comfortably into the chair, and his arms rose up only to cross over one another. His eyes now attended to the gathering of strangers in the tavern, in hopes of finding some sort of job that was well worth over the free, meager amount of riches that were to spoil him as the night progressed.

[Chiroptera]

Eltarri sank into her wooden seat, hands trembling as she gazed at the purple-haired man who sat only a few tables away. His suave manner and cold expression seemed out of place in the homely tavern, foreign even in a place where the strange was expected. She had seen the drunk approach him, asking for a trick. Her interest had grown at the prospect of finding a truly competent wizard, perhaps one powerful enough to help free her mother from the stone prison that she was trapped in. But at the spell-caster's words, her interest had turned to fear.

"Not a wizard," she muttered aloud, unable to tear her eyes away from him. "A necromancer."

She shivered, leaning back in her chair so that the sword she carried pressed comfortingly against her shoulder. She could almost see a heavy cloud of dark magic clinging to the necromancer, testament to his power.

"'Nother drink, miss?"

The waitress' voice startled Eltarri out of her reverie. She glanced up at the plump girl, then back at the lounging necromancer.

"No thanks," she said faintly, gesturing down at her still half-full mug, "I think I'll be leaving shortly."

[Lisean]

Letting his own eyes fall upon others that freely mingled and conversed within the walls of the tavern was one thing. It sprouted opportunity for him to study fellow bipeds that wandered the vast lands of Althanas. Everyday, new races were brought to his utmost attention. Some, he had heard of long ago, in children’s stories. Others, he had no recollection of. Something new always transpired with every repeating cycle of the moon. With every passing day.

Having eyes on him was another.

In the midst of surveying the humble inn and bar, Lisean’s eyes came to an immediate halt to oppose the young woman’s (Eltarri) that had not broken away from his very existence. Yes, he sat there, just like many whom were enjoying themselves. Even so, he stuck out of the mere crowd like a sore thumb. He hated too much attention every once in a while. He never asked for it. With his eyes and ears still fixed on the lady, he could almost read the lips of hers as she spoke to the waitress that approached.

Hmm.. She seems to know her limit, unlike the other scum here, he thought to himself, raising his index finger and thumb up to stroke his chin with his silk-soft flesh. Most wise.. to leave before the men get too desperate.

“What will it be?” asked an approaching waiter, hugging himself in a manner which suited what little protection he had sported. Peasants fittings were sure to prove no obstacle for the spellcaster, as his eyes slowly moved over to look up at the man. Pointing down at the gold heap at the other end of his table, the words just seemed to have rolled off of his tongue naturally.

“One of your more expensive rooms, if you will..” Lisean answered with a hint of a smile passing his lips as he glanced back at the girl. He knew what it was like to wander the streets at night, and with the drunks already beginning to pile up outside, he thought it would be best for her to stay indoors. An idea popped into his head. “..and another decent chamber for a lady over there, if she accepts my anonymous offer,” noted the necromancer, pointing a finger in the direction of the girl whilst she was focused on the remainder of her ale.

“Aye,” said the tender, picking up all of the gold off the table, save for 2 coins, which was just enough for their finest wine. “Yours is the third on the right. Hers will be the room opposite yer own.” Handing him a key, the tender turned and removed another from his pocket. “I shall give this one to the girl, yes?” he asked in reassurance to Lisean, who immediately nodded as he rose from his stool and pocketed the change from his purchase. “Yes, that will be fine.”

The necromancer began to make his way to the stairs behind the bar, making his way through a tavern filled with cheer and laughter. He didn’t bother to watch the tender approach the woman with the surprise intended for her, but from time to time he’d look back to make sure the man did his job, and handed the key over, if she accepted the offer for a free above average room.

[Chiroptera]

I was waiting for one of the others to post, but since it's been . . . about two weeks . . . I'm getting antsy! Just PM me if one of your others needs to insert something.
"A room?" Eltarri squeaked, her eyes wide with surprise.

"Yes, miss," the waiter affirmed, a slight smile on his lips. "Free of charge from an anonymous patron."

Eltarri stared at the man incredulously, struggling to find her voice. It was her first day in Underwood, and she hadn't met anyone on her way into town. Who on earth would give such a generous gift to a random stranger?

"'Ere's the key," the waiter drawled, setting it down onto the table beside her mug. "It's the third room on yer left up the stairs."

Eltarri bit her lip, then grabbed the man's arm before he could leave.

"What . . . what does this sort of gesture mean?" she asked hesitantly.

The waiter looked down at her with a leering grin.

"It can mean all sorts of things, miss."

Eltarri made one last attempt to clarify the situation. "Please, could you tell me who did this?"

"Sorry," he said before turning to head for the kitchen. "I was sworn to secrecy. I don't like to annoy our more prestigious patrons."

A prestigious patron.

What sort of people counted as "prestigious" in this dump?

She glanced at the elf who still stood by his table. No, he hadn't done more than drink and shout Elvish since he'd entered. The odd boy at the bar was still being screamed at by the cat-girl, looking much too preoccupied with her tirade to notice her presence. There were no others in the tavern who looked wealthy enough to afford an upstairs room, and no one who seemed odd enough to pay for strangers' quarters, except . . .

Eltarri's eyes landed on the table where the dark spellcaster had been sitting only moments ago.

Gone.

Eltarri shivered. He must have spelled himself away while the waiter was talking to her.

"It wasn't the elf, it couldn't have been the blue-haired boy or the yelling girl, and it wasn't the necromancer," she muttered aloud. Prestigious patron. "Maybe the gods at last are having mercy on me."

Eltarri rose from her seat and tossed a coin onto the table for her drink. This little hole-in-the-wall tavern wasn't her idea of a great place to stay, but considering that she had no friends, no direction, and a rapidly depleting gold supply, it was a comforting thought to know that at least for tonight she would be able to sleep in a warm, indoor bed. Shrugging her shoulders to shift her sword-harness into a more comfortable position, Eltarri headed for the sagging wooden staircase.

[Lisean]

As the barkeep handed the key over to the young lady, Lisean decided it was time to vacate the more lively area of the building, now that the more heavily drunk men were tossing jokes. It wasn’t going to be long before a fight was ensued, but hey.. nothing he could do about it. So long as the girl got what would hopefully be in her best interest, at least one life would be saved tonight. The necromancer took his good time in ascending the stairs. Nobody was really planning on settling in just yet.. for most of them had friends and fellow travelers to have fun around. He was left alone. What had he to keep himself entertained, besides the complex runes and symbols in the Book of Lemot?

Once at the top of the stairs, an idea came to mind. Maybe to spread some knowledge unto the lady he had bought a room for. It would be nice to perhaps hear an eventual “Thank you,” but was that really want he wanted? Or was it, at long last, he was finally craving that little bit of attention? Dwelling on it for a minute longer only made him sigh, before he took his spellbook, and opened it up to the very back, where he had inserted some more pages for his own future reference, incase he were to pick up new incantations throughout his travels. Taking an inkpen from inside the binding of the book, he quickly wrote down words in the english tongue. The language most common.

You’re welcome. Hopefully the room suits your needs for the evening.

From,
The Man Across The Hall.

Smiling somewhat, he walked over to the lady’s door, and pushed it open as far as it could without use of the key. He shoved the end of the paper into the door, so that the note remained out for all who passed the door to see. Not many would have to pass it though, seeing as how it was at the end of the hall. He smiled almost in anticipation to witness a reaction, but he knew he wouldn’t catch a glimpse at the girl’s face. All he could do was predict, and he was bad at that when it came to this sorts of things. Turning around, Lisean used his key to open the door to his room, and entered. For now, he left the door half open, in case he were to quickly walk downstairs to grab himself another bottle of wine or hard liquor. He set his staff adjacent to his bed, up against the wall, took a seat upon the soft cushion, leaning forward to bury his face in his hands, setting his elbows upon his knees.

He seemed.. stressed. Why? He couldn’t configure. Maybe he was still in anticipation of seeing the look on the woman’s face, still. He shook his head to himself, ridding his mind of the thought, before instinct made him turn his head to look through his half open door, and stare at the door across the hall.

Maybe he could see for himself if she truly was grateful.

[Chiroptera]

The hall at the top of the stairs was darker than the common room below, lit only by a dim lantern that was suspended from the ceiling in the middle of the corridor. The clamor of the tavern below was dampened by the thick wood of the walls and floor, and there was no detectable noise coming from the doors that lined the scratched and faded walls.

Eltarri winced as her footfall made the wooden floor beneath her creak. She held the small key in her tightly-clenched fist as though it were a talisman to protect her from some sort of unexpected opposition.

Third door on the left. A wave of cold chills swept down the half-elf's spine and she chided herself for being afraid. What did she think would be waiting for her in the room? A legion of demon warriors who wanted to kidnap her? A conjuring witch who would cast another dark spell on her? Maybe an evil magician who wanted to make her his undead slave . . .

You're being irrational, she told herself as she walked to the door. Her feet had been moving softly, timidly, of their own accord, so Eltarri took the last few steps up to her door with pointed energy, slamming her heels against the ground to alert whoever might be in her room of her presence. The girl was tired of being afraid, tired of always fearing that there was someone in hiding who wanted her dead. It was silly to allow fear to run her life and determine her course of action. Whatever was- or wasn't- in her room, she was determined to face it with an unshakable confidence in herself, her bracers, and her sword.

With a determined lift of her chin, Eltarri's eyes lifted to the door, her hand alrady moving to jam the key into the lock. Her eyes fell on a piece of folded white parchment that was stuck between the door and its frame, and her resolution wavered like a blade of grass in high winds. Fingers trembling, the half-elf forced herself to remove the paper, unfolding it slowly before she squinted down to read the scrawled symbols.

You’re welcome. Hopefully the room suits your needs for the evening.

From,
The Man Across The Hall.

The hair on the back of her neck rose as Eltarri forced herself to contain a shudder. Needs for the evening? Did the man think she was a lady of the evening?

No, that couldn't be it, Eltarri decided quickly with a small sigh of relief. What would a prostitute be doing with a sword as big as mine?

Impulsively, the half-elf cast a furtive glance behind her, at the room of "the man across the hall." She jerked her gaze back around with a muffled yelp when she saw that the door was slightly ajar. Her glance had been too swift for her to see who- or what- was inside, but the open doorway implied that something was inside.

The open doorway isn't an invitation, is it? Eltarri wondered with a sinking feeling. Her hands were sweaty as she turned the key in the lock and pushed open the door. Stepping into the dark room, the girl quickly shut the door behind her, then had to open it again to pull the key out of the other side so that she could lock herself in the room.

The girl fumbled around the chamber until she found, painfully, with her shin, the edge of a table. Feeling along the wall, her hands finally ran into the cheap curtains that covered the window. She pulled them back quickly, grimacing at the coarseness of the material, and was rewarded by a flood of moonlight that lit the room with its murky glow. A bed stood in one corner with an old chest of drawers against the wall beside it. The desk, situated beneath the window, was the only other furniture beside a straight-back chair that was tucked into the corner of the room. A woven rug lay in the middle of the room, covering the worn wooden floor with a dull pattern of green vines on a red background.

To the weary traveler who had grown accustomed to sleeping under trees and atop hard ground, the dingy room seemed like a haven.

"Oh, look," Eltarri murmured to herself, hesitantly touching the bed, "a pillow."

Without another thought to the stranger who had paid for her comfort, the girl rested her head against the soft cushion of the bed and, fully clothed and armed and wearing a dreamy smile, fell asleep.

[Taskmienster]

This thread has been siting for over a month and a half. Since no response has been made to create activity I am going to be moving this. If you would like it to be reopened please feel free to PM myself or another admin and they will be able to move it for you back to the Peaceful Promenade.