To help one help another.

[googlyeyesultra]

A dim sun above shone down upon Scara Brae, only obstructed by a few wispy clouds. The air was still, cool, and calm. It was early, and the calls of songbirds replaced silence with melodic music. A single woman's footsteps were audible, her boots tapping down on the cobblestone road. Around her, numerous buildings, hovels, and shopettes pressed up against the paved streets.

A stench of drink, cheap meat pies, and general seediness eminated from one of these myriad of mildly dilapidated buildings. Hanging on a rusted chain above the ramshackle door was a simply painted wooden sign, weathered and faded over time. Upon it, an amateur's depiction of a tall ale was overshadowed by large, black text, announcing that the pub was called “The Scara Saloon”.

Nalya strode in, pushing the door open gently, and appraisingly glanced about the interior of the establishment. Despite the modest exterior, from inside, it appeared to be a decent tavern. A few mildly dusty tables indicated both that they were not regularly cleaned, but also that no recent fights had gotten out of hand to the point were tables were overturned and chairs hurled. A sole drunkard sat snoring quietly in the corner, only rarely and barely stirring.

Upon hearing Nalya's footsteps, a waitress emerged from a back room, surprised to find a prospective customer before noon. The saloon's server was garbed in a leather apron as well as an dye-less linen frock. Even more surprising, however, to the waitress, was the woman standing before her.

Nalya was unlike anything she had ever seen. Her clothing was immediately noted, consisting of a faded chiton and equally faded braccae. Her blue eyes were circled with forest green eyeliner and dreary shadows of exhaustion had formed beneath her eyes. Nalya's hair flowed down half of her back, the dim lighting reflecting off of her fair, blonde hair.

The waitress, still staring at the unusual figure before her, meekly questioned, “May I help you with something?” Nalya smoothed her clothing before responding.

“Yes. I am looking for employment.”

“Eh, hold on a moment. I'd better get the innkeeper.” Then, more quietly, “If he's sober...”

The server sprinted out of the tavern, running to fetch and quite likely wake the owner.

I'm in for a long wait, it seems. Might as well make myself comfortable.

Nalya chose a central table and sat down, facing the doorway.

Surprisingly quickly, the waitress returned, bringing with her a drunken, overweight man. He was barely able to stand and seemed to be leaning heavily on the server. Swaggering, he approached the still-seated woman, already shouting, booze in his breath.

“What's ya doin' hare, lassy?” the inebriated bartender questioned, his voice almost incoherent from some mixture of liquor and foreign accent.

“I am seeking employment. I am a singer by trade,” Nalya responded.

“Wha ta 'ell do I need a singa for? Me bar gots lots o' customahs! Wai'... Mahbe ye can do a differn' job for meh,” the innkeeper replied, still held up by the waitress.

“What sort of job?”

“Thare wa' some guy roamin' 'round hare, wantin' help wit' some'in'.”

The waitress piped in, interrupting the conversation. “Yes, he was trying to round up some sellswords. Said he got a child of his taken by bandits, south of town, and presumably he wants the kid back.”

“He offer'd a rewar'! Rubays, tay were!” continued the innkeeper.

“He--I think his name was Tel'her--said he'd be back here daily trying to round up some people to retrieve the kid, so if you bring the lad back here, I'm sure Tel'her will be around,” explained the waitress. “Of course, that means there might be other groups tryin' to get the reward before you can. ”

“Ye'd be a fool to try it 'lone, lassy!” exclaimed the drunk.

Which leaves me to find someone to help me.

“Thank you both. I'll be going now,” verbalized Nalya.

Townspeople were milling about by now, the crisp morning air replaced by the warmth of early afternoon. Perhaps one of these could be the one who would help Nalya help another. However, to get their attention without looking the fool would be a bit of a challenge. Eventually, decided on a conservative plan of action, she, with standard volume and melodic tone, asked, “Anyone willing to help a lady out?”

I understand this is probably a terrible post, but, eh, it is my first thread. Bear with me, and I'll take all of the constructive criticism I can get. I'd prefer 2-3 people, not including me. Feel free to shoot me a personal message with questions/comments/legitimate beefs.

[Aryr de Morte]

The soft leather of the Aryr's sandals felt good on the stone. The light tapping made him walk faster in an effort to hear the sound, his shield shifting left and right slightly on his back as he went along. Small shack-like houses and other establishments littered the road. This wasn't a grand place like his homeland of Eulaea. Every city, every village, every farm was bustling with activity. This place called Scara Brae didn't offer much so far.

The sun was beating down on his deep violet garb and the soldier needed to take a break, drink some good ale, and get a quick nap in whether it be passing out or getting a room. There was a shabby little pub that would suit his needs a bit further down the path, he'd go there and see what he could stir up. Already, he had seen a potential problem, a small waitress carrying what looked to be a very, very drunk patron in. That could be dangerous, drunks getting dragged back into pubs wasn't a good sign. Regardless, Aryr walked into the establishment to see what he could dig up.

Not much... who's that blonde? She's the tallest woman I've ever seen in my life. Oh well...

Aryr went down to a rather dusty and dirty table and sat down, he would wait for the waitress to be done carrying her stupefied patron. He kept going on and on and someone needing help. To Aryr, that sounded much more eventful than sitting here. The three having the conversation hadn't noticed him, neither had the lone drunk snoozing in the corner.

After a minute of conversation the tall blonde walked out the door into the street and the waitress went to put her drunken friend on a stool. Aryr liked the idea of actually getting something done and perhaps getting something to sell. Rubies were good, selling them for gold was even better. He quickly stood from his seat and pushed the door open to see the blonde standing there, taking in the scene.

"Excuse me, may I ask what it is you were doing in there?" Aryr gave an eloquent bow, "It sounded rather exciting. I'd be willing to take part should you need my spear."

Length is a kind of short. Hope I gave you enough to work with.

[googlyeyesultra]

I can deal with just about any length, so long as it is well written. After all, I'm used to a one paragraph limit on WarCraft. This looks a tad short as well, but it'll have to do. I can't think of how to add more good content.
A few more clouds drifted overhead, obscuring a few more rays of sunlight and sending slowly moving shadows over the town. A mild breeze floated through the town, stirring up a few leaves here and there. Villagers still milled about, handling their own business and simply walking around the two oddities, Nalya and Aryr, conversing in the center of the street.

Nalya stood, examining the man before her. Much unlike most, or even Nalya for that matter. The man was of average height, wore a plum-colored cloak, had black hair, and, quite an oddity, black eyes. Just as strange was his lip piercing. The man was lightly armed and armored and was clearly not from Scara Brae, or even the immediate vicinity. With a flamboyant, flourished bow, the stocky, muscular man had apparently offered to help her. However, in the process, he had implicated himself in eavesdropping.

Sneaky bastard... Regardless, he has offered his help, and he does appear skilled. Even if he weren't, I need whatever help I can get. Still, I must wonder what he thinks of me, what everyone thinks of me. Those few that care to pay attention, at least.


“I'll take all of the help I can get. Some poor father had his child kidnapped, and if we're lucky, we can help the poor lout. There's a reward, too, if you happen to be motivated by greed rather than altruism,” responded the Aur woman. “Rubies or some-such. My purse is running a bit dry, and whatever share is left to me will be put to good use.”




A bit of irony in this: a rogue stole my money, and now, by liberating a child from rogues, I may get a handful of it back.




Nalya chuckled, momentarily oblivious to the world, probably looking quite strange.


“I suppose we ought to start with introductions, since, as you seem interested, I suspect we may be together for a while. My name is Nalya Sel'nas,” the woman said, introducing herself. “And yours is...?” she questioned.




Soon enough, hopefully, it would be revealed whether fate had decided to torment Nalya or reward her with this adventure and her temporary companion. A combination of stress-inducing scenarios and time
—as this escapade was likely to include— tended to reveal the true nature of a person.





Depending on a bit of luck, the man who stands before me, the challenges before both of us, and our methods, this could either be very difficult or very hard. Another companion would make this easier, but would reduce the rewards greatly. Is it better to have an assured third or to have a chance at reaping a full half of whatever reward is offered?

[Rith]

This was by no means an unordinary town Rith had passed through in his time. There were people walking about minding their business, seemingly it was quite an inactive little village. There were a few what seemed to be sell-swords and guards strolling the area. Entering through the south of town, carrying his axe just under the bottom of the large sharpened blades in his right hand, with a bow draped over his shoulder, and his quiver across the opposite, Rith was presumed just another ordinary figure in the village.

Walking along the cobblestone road, hovels to his left and right, the armory, and a few other ordinary buildings it was another village. Rith was after a good drink before he set out to explore the area seeing as Rith had only just arrived in Scara Brae area the day before. Rith soon spotted, “The Scara Saloon”, painted in black letters upon a piece of weathered wood just ahead.

Ah, an early morning drink with no babbling drunkards to bother me.

As Rith walked towards the inn, he saw an interesting looking female help what appeard to be a drunk into the pub. Soon after Rith saw another interesting figure enter the tavern carrying a spear, and a shield, and a few pieces of assorted armor.

A guard maybe?

Rith walked towards one of the Scara Brae Saloon's windows where he sat down underneath it. He laid his axe to his right and made himself comfortable against the tavern’s wall. He decided that he would listen in for a moment to see if there were going to be any morning bar fights. After a moment or so, he heard what appeared to be a conversation going on between a lady and an older man. He made out as much of the conversation as he could.

A man said, “What's -- doin' hare, las--?”

A young lady began, “I am ------- ----------. - -- a ----er by trade,”

“Wha ta 'ell -- - ne-- a ----a fo-? Me --- gots lots o' customahs! Wai'... ----- -- --- do - ------- --- for meh,” said the man.

The lady asked, “Wha- ---- -- job?”

“Thare -- ---- --- roamin' 'round hare, ------ ---- wit' some'in',” replied the man.

Another land said, “---, he --- trying to ----- up some sellswords. Said he got a ----- -- --- taken by -------, south of town, and pr--u--bly -- wants the --- ----.”

Someone roaming around here that entered through the south of town? They aren't talking about me are they? I didn't even think anyone noticed me.

The man began again, “-- offer'd a rewar'! Rubays, tay were!”

The second lady said, “He-- - ----- his name --- Tel'her--said he'd be back ---- ----- trying to round up some people to -------- the ---, -- if you bring the --- back here, I'm sure ------ will be ------. -- ------, that means the-- might -- other ------ tryin' to get the ------ before --- ---. ”

Rounding up people to look for me. They couldn't possibly be talking about me. If they are, I just may as well forget about that peaceful morning drink

The man exclaimed, “Ye'd be a ---- to try it 'lone, lassy!”

The first woman said, “----- --- both. I'll be ----- now.”

A moment later, a tall blond female walked out of the tavern door.

She's a giant!

Rith was still sitting under the window off to the side of the tavern. Just after her, a man that appeared about the same age as her followed.

A young man approached the lady and said, "Excuse me, may I ask what it is you were doing in there? It sounded rather exciting. I'd be willing to take part should you need my spear."

The lady replied, “I'll take all of the help I can get. Some poor father had his child kidnapped, and if we're lucky, we can help the poor lout. There's a reward, too, if you happen to be motivated by greed rather than altruism. Rubies or some-such. My purse is running a bit dry, and whatever share is left to me will be put to good use.”

Well that's a load off. All along I thought they were talking about me. Rith you've got to stop jumping to conclusions. Ah, but those bandits, I guess I'll see if she would like another helping hand.

Rith sat for a moment and chuckled to himself before he stood up. He bent back over, and picked up his axe and carried it in the same fashion before he put it down. The two in the street paid him no mind, nor did he expect them to. Rith walked over to the two, without them even noticing.

The lady began again, “I suppose we ought to start with introductions, since, as you seem interested, I suspect we may be together for a while. My name is Nalya Sel'nas,” the woman said, introducing herself. “And yours is...?”

By this time, Rith had moved off to left of the woman, and to the right of the man where they were talking.

“My name is Rith. I don’t mean to interrupt, but I couldn’t help overhearing you over here as I was just sitting against the tavern wall just there. I’d hope you may have room in this party for one more?”

[Lugh]

"So, you hail from Salvar?" The guards tone was curious, cautious. Before him was a beast of a man, easily six and a half feet tall. His ragged clothing of rough fur danced in the light breeze around him, as if the winds themselves were afraid of the man. At either side he had two hand axes, their steel heads giving off a lackluster sheen. Upon first glances the guard had assumed the worst, a barbarian of some sort, a gruff character without a way to communicate. "And you are here in Scara Brae because you got lost? How's your name go again?"

Fortunately for the large man, he had a way with people. Despite his size and intimidatingly large stature, he had a warm and inviting voice. His deep brown eyes were wells of comfort, a true pathway to the man's soul. Communicating was difficult though. At his side was the heavy set dire wolf, Brute, which allowed (through magical means) him to speak all forms of languages. "Yes," he responded, "I was in Corone and lost my partner, Ciancth. Have you seen her? She is a tall pointy eared lady, very thin?"

"No?" He said after a small pause. The guard before him was looking at him like an idiot, a look he got often. Behind him were more guards, each warily watching the encounter and just waiting to draw their weapons at the slightest movement of the mammoth man. "No matter than, I shall find her eventually. My name is Ki'Rial of the Vandenniak clan, from Salvar."

The guard turned to his companions, all little humans, and muttered a few quick orders. Reluctant to leave, they gave Rial a parting look of warning and turned to form up. "Good then, sure..." the guard said as he turned back to the man. "You will be allowed to pass, but I must warn you. Scara Brae is a rough town sometimes, with plenty of needy people. Do not encourage the riff-raff, do not start any fights, do not join any fights, and whatever you do, keep your wolf under control."

If only the man knew the troubles the giant of a man had been through. From fights with Direlings, a fight with a horde of ice demons, and the day to day survival in Knife's Edge the new little town would be nothing. Rial had been through much in his life, much more than the common person could ever hope to see. But that was the reason he had left the lifeless Berevaran tundra, the reason he had fought through the passes, through the demons, and through his own heartache.

"Understood," the barbarian responded and flashed a toothy, yet sincere smile. The man took a step away and watched as the heavy set man and his massive wolf strolled by. "I hope we can meet again sometime, Captain. It would be an honor to speak to the warriors and guardians of this island."

The man's grunt and unsure wave sufficed for an answer. Rial turned and continued to walk, taking in all the sights he could at once. It was overwhelming, as most of his travel had been. Compared to the blistering icy winds and almost constant fighting that he had pushed through to get to the small island of Corone, then accidentally to Scara Brae, it was peaceful. Relaxation was something that he had not yet felt, something that was not normally affordable to a warrior of the icy tundra.

From doing minor quests with the elven ex-assassin Ciancth, to wandering aimlessly through towns, Rial had come a long way. He had lost himself, and his companion, in Corone somewhere. Unfortunately, he knew neither the terrain nor the outlying areas. After leaving the forests of Concordia he had ventured to the city of Gisela. A few days of studying the warfare of the ancient Corone people, and the massive warfare that had taken place in that old city, he had gone to the ferry with a small group.

Somehow, he was still unsure, he had been convinced to follow them further and take the ferry. Now, in Scara Brae, and with no clue as to what to do, the large man and his companion were forced to wander the streets. He had long since left the tundra in search of warriors and quests of all sorts, looking for people to assist and people to fight. Either one was just as good as the other.

"Look Brute," he said as he patted the thick white fur of his wolf companion, "Nice people everywhere. I don't see a single person that seems as despicable as those Rush individuals. This town really is a peaceful place. What do you say we find something to do?"

With lazy clouds drifting, and gaggles of people milling about, the man made his way to the center of town.

((Heh, I guess just see me or something, I can do whatever... and haven't used this charry in quite a while...))

[googlyeyesultra]

This is kinda god-awful short, but I don't have enough time to make this spectacular. Hopefully this'll do for today. 'Tis a pleasure to have yall in here. Once again, I'd like to ask, please, please, please, give me all of the constructive criticism you can! Eat me alive, ye bastards! Anyways... I think a player named “Angel of Light” or some-such is coming, and after that, I really have to refuse any more applicants. Sorry, all. 'Tis a compliment, I suppose, that so many people want to join my amazing thread. I seem to have attracted a lot of warrior types, as well. Hopefully Nalya and perhaps Angel will be able to counteract that and balance it all out. We'll see how this works out. Ah, and Lugh, your character reminds me of a person I've roleplayed with on WarCraft. Dgrad, or Sythe2o0. Anyways, pointlessness over. Time to get back to the writing.

Everyone's an eavesdropper today... Once again, however, an armed man, perhaps offering to help me. Might as well bring him along, I suppose.

“Since you were listening in, I'm sure you already know my name by now. Likewise, I suspect you know what I plan to do,” spat Nalya. Then, with less contempt and more respect, “I can use all of the help I can get.”

Even if the help is rude and eavesdrops and interrupts... Holy Hermitess...

Nalya's eyes grew wider, scrying the monolithic man ahead of her. Nalya was tall, but this man was truly massive, towering approximately a third of a foot above her. The giant of a man was not merely tall, but bulky and muscular. Not only was he armed, but armored with a horned helm and upper body chainmail. In addition, a loyal canine paced by his feet, presumably belonging to the giant. He was clearly an outsider, as was Nalya, garbed in her chiton.

Perhaps if I am kind to thee, then he shall be to me.

Nalya, slightly speechless with a mixture of surprise and awe, strode around her group and towards the massive warrior and his wolf, gesturing towards the massive man. Hesitating as she approached him –his disproportionate size far more evident at her closer distance– she meekly greeted him.

“Hello... You're not from here, are you?” the tall blonde questioned. “I could use your help, actually. A kidnapped child, albeit not mine, deserves saving. I have a pair of others who have offered their aid, and I think with the four of us, we would have a decent chance at saving the poor kid,” continued Nalya.

If we're lucky, at least.

“Besides, we may be able to find another along the way. There is a reward, I think, too. So, what do you say?” concluded Nalya. If fate was on their side, this group should be able to fight its way through most, even despite the fact that Nalya was no fighter. If intelligence was required, however, Nalya could very well be alone. Only time would tell.

[Aryr de Morte]

"My good lady, my name is Ar--" Another interrupted his words.

How rude, this fool had better have something worth saying or I'll spear him to the afterlife...

After the man was done with his sudden proposition, Aryr looked him over. He was nothing terribly grand but would be good fodder while Aryr speared down any opposition. Hopefully this tall blonde would contribute enough so that Aryr didn't have to do all the combat by himself or with this stranger. Both the man newly arrived and the woman had a foreign look, even to Scara Brae. It was much like himself however, his deep violet garb must have been quite a sight. He had also never seen another spear wielding combatant in all his time south of Eulaea. This was no time to feel such nostalgia however.

"My name is Aryr de Morte the twenty-fifth," Aryr tried to sound as non-official as he could; I need to stop saying "the twenty-fifth... makes me sound like royalty, and not to mention, snooby, "I would love to be of any service--" Nalya's eyes suddenly drifted, eyeing yet another figure.

The man was a mammoth to be sure. Much like the Salvarian warriors he had encountered in Berevar. This man was nearly half a foot taller than Aryr and along with it held a muscular, large build. The mammoth of a man reminded Aryr slightly of Vroth, a minotaur who he met in Salvar. This man would be much more useful in combat that the shorter, but still rather bulky man named Rith. The barbaric looking newcomer stood, taking in Nalya's next words. Aryr decided he was done with being interrupted, but at least he now knew the mission they were to embark upon. Yet they had no clue where they were going or what their exact goal was, or even who their enemy was. Aryr wished to be back in Eulaea, destroying the opposition and bringing glory to his name and House Morte. There was nothing more desireable than such a thing. Regardless, there were more pressing matters at hand.

We're finding a missing child with no specifics of the reward involved. This sounds rather foolish but I will do it for the child and hope the reward is large.

"I will aid you now that I know the extent of the problem," Aryr drifted his eyes from the mammoth, to the tall blonde, and lastly to the considerably shorter man, "I feel I must make it clear that I will go my own way after this."

Once everyone joins we need to determine a posting order, chaos won't be any good.

[Rith]

After finishing his somewhat rude introduction to Nayla and Aryr he couldn't help but notice their attention had been drawn to something else. He noticed they were both looking directly over his head, so instinctivly he turned to see what the bit of comotion was about.

SEESH! Now that's what I call one brute of complete muscle and bone. I suppose he's just like every other man of the sort all braun, no brain, or maybe he'll prove me wrong. And what's he doing with a wolf around town, this is no place for that. I better watch my back until we get out of here, who knows what that thing'll do.

Rith turned back to speak to Nayla, but she had already moved and was making her way towards the massive figure.

Oh lord, she's going to get him to come with us. You've got to be kidding me, I need a good glass of ale.

After a moment of mindless thought, Rith heard Aryr say,"I will aid you now that I know the extent of the problem, I feel I must make it clear that I will go my own way after this."

Turning and looking to Aryr, "Fine by me, but I need a drink. Tell Nayla that I've gone inside the Tavern for a drink. Give me word before we depart if I havn't returned in a bit, if you please will."

Rith stepped away from Aryr and pushed open the tavern door. He moved towards the large oak bar counter and asked the bartender for a glass of ale. Rith thanked the woman and moved towards a near by dusty table. He laid his axe across it's top and began to slowly sip down his beer. Ah, now this is how a morning should always begin.

I was bored and wanted to post something. Just come and get me before we leave or if I find a way, I'll come back on outside.

[Lugh]

There was only one person that stuck out through the crowd, and it was because she too was not like the rest. The woman was almost like what Rial remembered from the tundra, like a native of Berevar. Her skin was pale and soft, off-white. Her height was near his, almost six feet, and her weight had to have been somewhere nears the two hundred mark. If her hair had been darker, and her eyes a strong brown coloration the warrior would have sworn that she was of his descent.

As always her mouth moved, but instead of common his own language was what he heard. Her lips moved, like all other peoples did, to form the words of whatever language they spoke. Instead, however, his native tongue came out. Perhaps it was a magic aura that followed the man, or even his large wolf. Whatever the cause was, it always looked odd and normally made people uncomfortable… sometimes it made people nauseas even.

“I am not from here, as you suspected,” Rial responded to the interesting, almost attractive blonde. He smiled, rubbing his hands against his thick fur. It was a nervous habit the man had when he was not sure how to respond or how to act in certain social situations. Things were much different on Althanas outside of the tundra, and outside of Salvar itself. People were much more open, much more extroverted. “And if my blades can be put to use in saving a child, no matter what child, I would be honored to assist.”

Rial looked over the woman’s shoulder, a fact that was for the first time almost difficult, and looked at the other two. They were both men, both seemingly warriors. The barbarian was quickly beginning to assume that all warriors were men, and that the majority of people outside were mercenaries. “I will not need repayment,” he added as he returned his soft eyes to the woman. He continued with a broad smile, flashing his large teeth, “Protecting an innocent will be payment enough. Perchance this will also allow me the honor of fighting other warriors and finding where my caliber in arms stands compared to those of Althanas.”

“Greetings to each of you,” Rial continued, “I am Ki’Rial of the Vandenniak clan of Berevar.” The large man watched, curiously, as the smallest of the party wandered into the tavern with a small remark. Was it so wise to become inebriated before taking on a mission where others relied on you? It seemed the answer to that question was a no, at least to the naïve Rial. Perhaps some relied on the sickeningly addictive drink, quaffing a thirst that never ended.

[googlyeyesultra]

I apologize sincerely for not getting a post up yesterday. Thursdays might be a bit rough for me to post on. Oh, and presumably post order would be the order we joined in.

Villagers were beginning to point, stare, and chat, rather surprised by the handful of warriors all centered around an equally stared at blonde. Nalya glared back, clearly agitated, her brow furrowed; the pointing continued regardless.

Ki'Rial's words came out sounding normally, but his lips moved abnormally. Where one expected the opening of an "o", his lips pressed together for a "p". It was confusing, and Nalya stared, trying to understand what was going on.

All of the adventurers were unusual, yet with oddities comes diversity, and with diversity comes victories. One can not fight what is not expected, and certainly these adventurers would be unexpected.

"Perhaps between the five of us, we should be able to handle whatever challenges come our way," spoke Nalya, gesturing towards herself, "Aryr de Morte the twenty-fith", Rith in the tavern, the collosal Ki'Rial, and fith, Ki'Rial's wolf, Brute.

For perhaps the first time in Nalya's life, she was surrounded by sober strangers. Strangers with which she was to interact, and whose actions she could not predict. Strangers which could be kind or cruel.

"I suppose we ought to fetch Rith, and perhaps a final drink. It may be a while before we can have another." With this, Nalya turned towards the Scara Saloon, gently shoving open the door. She fluidly strode towards the oaken counter, studying it briefly before ordering. It was thickly waxed, but beneath the clear coating, dark grain lines were clearly visible. The wood was sturdy and looked to have survived quite a bit. Looking up, she noticed that the morning's drunk had left.

Ordering a drink, Nalya requested "If you would, please, ma'am, I'll take a small shot of the strongest drink you have."

The waitress, a bit startled that a woman would order a strong drink, quickly poured a small, smudged class full of a liquid somewhere in color between amber and black. Nalya withdrew a few coppers from her satchel, offering it as payment. The waitress palmed it and walked into the back room, perhaps to store it away.

Nalya swirled the strong liquor briefly, watching the dark liquid splosh about the shotglass. It smelled of chesnuts, dust, and dry leaves. Nalya tilted the glass, lifting it to her mouth, allowing the drink to trickle through her lips as a small stream does through a pair of rocks. It tasted much as it smelled and she swallowed it gratefully. As it made its way down her throat, a bit too quickly for Nalya's taste, it burned roughly. It was the kind of drink that would make most men cough and wheeze as it nearly ate through their necks, but Nalya, used to the thick, sappy fermented alchohol used in one of the Aur festivals and the hardest boozes of the seediest taverns, didn't react. She put the glass down on the bar, not in the least bit inebriated, and jokingly chided Rith.

"I suppose, since we have more pressing business than our drinks, we should depart."

[Rith]

I have to leave to go to my dads for the weekend, please whom ever needs to, bunny my character along and I'll catch up with the story Sunday if I can't find access to a computer this weekend. Sorry about this, it came up last minute.

[Aryr de Morte]

All the talk bored Aryr, he was used to the action of being the Commander of the Royal Guard. Yet he felt as though he could trust each of these warriors, even the barbarian from the north. Feeling disconnected from reality was something Aryr was accustomed to. Being a tactitian required much thinking, and much thinking required to disconnect from those around you. Aryr had learned to do just that. Not to strategize but to keep himself occupied while others chatted uselessly.

There are more important matters at hand then grabbing a drink.

Regardless, the group went into the tavern anyways, the small child could be beaten, raped, and flogged while the group sat around the table for a quick drink. There was no honor in this. Despite his initial liking of the group, Aryr felt as though they were simply in it for the money, all except the barbarian who seemed a simple, honorable man. The smaller man, Rith, had been quick to enter the tavern almost as if he were more excited about the notion of drinking than saving a life and the parent from grief.

Morals... do they have none?

As Aryr snapped back into reality the waitress was looking at him with a rather odd expression as though he had been staring into space for quite some time, "Oh, I'll have a Scaran Breezer." The warrior glanced at the girl and smiled, she giggled. That was unimportant now, they had bigger fish to fry. It was honor that he cared most about though, not the reward nor the outcome of his new comrades.

Honor... such a sweet and cruel way of life. Do these adventurers live by no code?

"Fucking lazy fools." Aryr muttered in Eulaean. Indeed, they seemed lazy. Getting drunk before going to save a life didn't seem wise, the woman had ordered the strongest drink the Scara Saloon had to offer, unwise. It seemed that since Aryr had left Eulaea he could only stand himself. He had respected the minotaur warrior Vroth, though. He understood what it meant to be honorable and tend to what needed to be done.

Days long past.

The woman suggested they leave, Aryr was more than willing to do such, he got up from his seat and walked briskly to the door, "Let's go, then."

No drink was necessary, he simply left it on the table and left no money.

[Rith]

Sorry everyone for the delay, was sick. Hopefully we can still continue.

Sipping down his beer, Rith turned to see the rest of the group enter the tavern.

GAHHH!!! Hopefully they’ll keep it down to a bit of friendly conversation and no arguments this early on. That’s the last we’ll need and the last I want to hear right about now.

They all ordered drinks from the bard and babbled along for a few moments. Aryr seemed to be anxious and was somewhat unenthusiastic about the whole idea of everyone sitting around and drinking the morning away. Soon after a bit of chatter and an unexpected laugh with Nayla she soon motioned it was time to get going.

Aryr had already made his way to the door and after Nayla motioned Rith, he grumbled for everyone one to get moving. Rith lazily walked to the door knowing he’d probably get a stare-down from Aryr but he thought it a bit amusing to get under his skin just because he thought him a bit over zealous about the whole thing.

Though the situation is dire, the kid’s been gone only awhile, and they’re probably holding him for a ransom. If they wanted the child dead, he’d be dead by now. The guy’s got to lighten up a bit. Ah, Rith quit being such a badger to the man, it’s a child we’re talking about here, move your ass and lets get going.

Rith sped up his pace towards the tavern’s exit. As he walked past Aryr standing at the door he said, “We must be going then, Eh? My sincerest apologies, sir Aryr, I’ve been deterred of my habitual morning drink of over an hour now, and that may have gotten me off on the wrong foot. Well, there’s no time for standing around, its best we get moving, Eh?”

[Lugh]

When the other people walked into the tavern, following the short one, Rial decided that the party was not to his liking. Why would they all devote time to their drink, their silly addiction, when there was a life at stake. A child was missing, they were being paid to find her, and these barbarians were ignoring the fact. Not only were they ignoring the fact, they were putting themselves, each other, and the success of the mission.

“Brute,” the large man said with a firm pat on the wolfs side. “We are going a different way than they are. Come, let them handle their affair, you and me will handle our own.”

((Sorry, I’m going to drop this and stop slowing you down. See here (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?t=4960) for details or ask questions/comments.))

[Taskmienster]

This thread has been sitting for a full year. 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 Scara Brae.