Haven from the Rain

[Miniya]

She normally disliked balmy cloudless days but anything would have been an improvement from the eternal gray plaguing the sky for the last week. The torrential downpour plastered her pallid hair to her face. Tearing her gaze away from the heavens, she continued her long trudge to find some suitable haven from the rain. Her damp bangs obscured her vision and her attempts to bat them away from her face were unsuccessful. With a sigh she stilled her attempts, deciding that appearance did not matter much with the streets in their deserted state. Weary and distracted, she was no able to stop her fall when she caught her foot on a protruding rock, sending her tumbling unceremoniously to her knees. Forcing down expletives, she picked herself up. “Damn, I need a drink.”

Some raucous laughter echoed from the building next to her. All she could see through the pane-glass window was the glow from the fireplace. The words over the door were almost illegible in the rain “The Peaceful Promenade”. With out another thought, she opened the door, the hinges squeaking as metal ground against metal. Noise and the scent of stale ale assaulted her at the same time. Gazing around the room, she spotted an empty table shoved up against the back wall. Unfortunately, it was situated next to a group of rather rowdy, inebriated man engrossed in the tale that one of them was spouting. When no other options presented themselves, she trailed across the room tracking muddy footprints onto the grimy wood floor. She chose the seat furthest away from the boisterous cluster and waited for one of the serving maids to attend her. “So much for the name,” she whispered to herself.

Soon a harried looking woman made her way over. Her chemise was wet with sweat and a few tresses had escaped the catch holding her hair away from her face. “What can I get yeh, maim?” “An ale and coffee, please” The woman hurried away without a reply. Somewhere during the exchange, one of the men from the table over had caught site of her. In her peripherial vision she saw him eye her up and down, taking in her sodden and mud-drenched appearance. “You look like something that ended up on the wrong side of a demon fight.” Rolling her eyes at the flimsy comment, she decided not to grace it with an answer. He must have whispered something to his pals for they all started hooting at once. She pinched the bridge of her nose to quell the oncoming headache. It was going to be a long night.

[Highlander]

ooc: Don't mind me I'm just seeking a good adventure and please excuse the small post kinda lost my touch.

ic: Connor looked up and from where he was drinking his ale and said "Leave her alone her you might be missing a some jewels. That was just some friendly advice anyway." He took a last swig of his drink and turned around from the bar. He then waited o the comment from either the lady or the group of lads next to him.

[Miniya]

Miniya closed her eyes with a sigh. This was not going to be pretty. Her friendly admirer from earlier swelled with rage at the direct attack to his inflated ego. His friend sitting next to him gave him a shove, murmuring that the pique squeak had it coming. Bolstered by the jeers from his gang, he made as if to approach the speaker.

“Who’re yeh talking ta? This conversation is between me and the lady so why don’t yeh –“

He stumbled over his own feet in his attempt raise himself from the seat while appearing intimidating. The combination of alcohol and gravity’s unforgiving nature sent him tumbling to the ground. His face soon became well acquainted with the floor.

Miniya smiled despite her headache. It seemed she was not the only person fate was mucking around with that night, figuring the capricious lady must possess some measure of justice. A unanimous guffaw arose from the man’s companions, the hilarity of the situation amplified in their altered minds.

“Hey Byron, that was the way to show ‘im!”

“Way to impress your little lady over ‘ere!”

As he picked himself up he muttered something about how the broad was not worth it. Blotches of red appeared on his face as his anger grew with heckling of his companions. He glared behind him as the barrage failed to cease. “Would yah halfwits shut up! I am thinkin’ I should be teachin’ a lesson along with the punk.”

He stood in indecision as if caught between opposing magnetic poles. Tired, dizzy, and angry, instinct dictated that the punk was the better choice to attack. He picked up the first item that was within reach, the wooden chair he had occupied moments before, and hefted it through the air towards the bar.

[Highlander]

Connor looked at the chair and easily stepped to the side. He looked at the drunk and said "I'm a punk huh. Well this punk is going to make you want your mommy." He grabbed a beer glass and tried to smash it into the drunks head. If the drunk tried to stop him Connor would bring his knee into the man's gut.

[Seth_Rahl]

"Thats enough, both of you." A new voice rang through the air, as a metal clawed gauntlet grabbed the taller man's wrist that held the broken beer glass and the other hand, covered with a black glove, grabbed the man known as Byron by the shoulder and literally picked him up into the air. In between the two men was a black-coated figure, one that had not been there before.

Ifrit Obsidian, Captain of the Seventh Company of the Bladewraiths, had had just about enough of this budding bar rumble, and had decided to put a stop to it. Of course, he had only been sitting a few seats away from the main event, so it had not taken him much to silently move as a black blur to the spot where he grabbed the two men.

Using his current momentum, Ifrit took the taller man's wrist and threw him over his shoulder in a basic judo move, whilst with his other hand clenched around the drunkard's shoulder in a tight, paralyzing grip that prevented him from moving his left arm he shoved the man to the ground. Letting go of the taller man, he straighted up and eyed the girl now with blazing red eyes.

"My apologies, Madam'." Ifrit spoke formally, without rancor or sarcasm, which was rare for a demon like himself. In truth, he didn't really feel up to a fight: constant battles at the Citadel recently had worn him out. "But if these men want to fight, they are going to have to take it outside or..." Ifrit unsheathed his giant blade from his back with his ungauntleted left hand, and several people gasped at the immense size of the blade. Not bothering to stop the blades descent, it traveled in a vertical arc to the terrified drunkard's face, only to slam into the wooden floor less that 3 inches away and dig a gouge into the ground.

Ifrit snuck a peek back around at the bartender, who was shaking his head in frustration. Ah well. Ifrit thought to himself before resheathing E. Beowulf with a metallic ring. "I trust you to have a good night." He said indifferently to the girl once more, before walking away to sit at a table near the window.

He snuck a peek out the window and saw that it was raining. "Of all days..." he muttered irritably before taking a sip from the brew that he had ordered beforehand. It was a slight concoction. one not too exotic but still was enough to play with Ifrit's taste buds.

[Kovalai]

The rain beat a gentle rhythm against the hood of Mirena’s cloak, cutting off abruptly as she passed beneath the archway of the gate into Underwood. The night air was rich with the clean smells of rain and mud. She used to brief respite granted her by the gate to pause and shake a small flood of droplets from her clothes. The cloak was finer than she had ever worn before, its thick wool weave heavy but comfortable, and well oiled, it worked wonders at keeping off the rain. She smiled, glad at her own warmth. Over the last couple months of travel, she had learned to appreciate the simple comfort of being dry.

One of the guards, it appeared, knew this lesson perhaps too well. He leaned against the wall of the gate, huddled away from the rain. His greasy hair shined dankly from the wet, and his halberd leaned against the wall several feet away. She paused, the sound of leather against flagstone ceasing as she sharply looked him over. He gazed back at her, eyelids heavily hooded, jaw slack, and insolent. Her disapproval must have shown, for after looking from her face to her clothes, and finally to her axe, he made a halfhearted show of straightening up. Closing his mouth, he murmured an idle “Lady...” before his attention drifted away once again.

Hmph. Pathetic. Were this her town, she would have thrown him out of the Guard on the spot. She had very little tolerance for such things. Instead, she turned and faced the lazy guard’s partner. Despite being half asleep, he stood, back straight and halberd in hand. She stepped toward him, with a jerk he snapped out of his former daze. He was much younger than the first guard. Barely more than a boy... She offered him a gentle smile. “You seem like a good boy. Earnest. Do not let the rain or night discourage you, you are doing important work here... It is my hope that you will not fall into the habits of your... Comrade.”

He looked puzzled, a mixture of embarrassment and confusion, and offered her a nervous smile.”Uh...Thank you, Miss... Er, Ma’am. Lady.”

“Can you tell me off a place I might spend the night?”

“Well... you should try the Peaceful Promenade. My uncle’s cousin owns the place, an- er, well it’s a nice place. Uh, you can find it straight down the main road here...on the right when you reach the square.” Giving the lad a pat on the shoulder, Mirena pulled up the hood of her cloak, and stepped back into the night.

Immediately the patter of rain began again, harder than before. Sighing, Mirena pulled her cloak tight. It had been a long day of traveling, and at this point the rain was certainly not making the evening any shorter. She ignored the street, the buildings, and any other travelers. Walking silently but for the rain, she headed toward the square where she was supposed to find “The Peaceful Promenade.”


*****

Under the overhang belonging to the inn, Mirena took a long moment to shake off her cloak (again). Seemingly in no hurry, she pulled a small white cloth out of a pouch on her belt and used it to dry the wicked arc of her axe before stepping into the light just in time to bear witness to a loud crash of one man throwing another into a table. Pausing on the threshold between the night outside and dim light of the inn, she looked wistfully out at the dark, quiet rain. The Three who are one gave to us the world, and we must only live within it. I have seen many places worse than this. It will do. With a sigh, she stepped into the warmth of the inn, letting the door swing shut behind her.

The click of the latch as it shut sounded in the now uncomfortably quiet room. It seemed many people, wishing they were somewhere else, were studiously ignoring the activity going on the back of the common room. She could only assume her entrance served as a convenient distraction, for an inordinate number of the townsfolk seemed to take an interest in her arrival. It was one of these men who did his best to catch her attention as he made his way across the room. He was an overweight man, surprisingly clean apron spread across his belly, and exhausted lines shadowing his eyes.

“Ah, greetings this evening to you...” He said as he approached, quickly taking in her posture, clothes and hair. “My lady. My name is Master Brill, let me welcome you to my inn, the Peaceful Promenade. You...you won’t find a better place to rest on a night like this in all of Scara Brae!” When he finally reached her, it became apparent that not only was he overweight, he was also rather short, and she could see his face drop ever so slightly when he too realized that she was several inches taller than him. His expression slipped further the moment he noticed her axe, but he instantly forced it back into its place.

She skeptically cast her gaze across the room. The chatter of small conversations had begun to pick up again as people returned to their lives, and their drinks. She offered Master Brill a reserved smile, and though her tone was strictly proper, it was not cold. “Indeed. I require a room for the night. Nothing extravagant, but it must be clean. And I will not share a bed, of course.”

The innkeeper, returned to his own element, nodded. “Of course, my Lady. Do you have any supplies you would like taken to your room?”

“No, thank you. The gods gave us arms for a reason. I would, however, like a cup of tea.” She smiled softly. “I think I will find a table to rest at, for a short while.”

He does a rather good job of hiding his surprise. I wonder how often someone asks for tea in a place like this. Brill gave her a dubious nod and hurried off. Mirena’s attention was already elsewhere. Her eyes had never truly left the events transpiring in the far corner, and as the dark, pale young man threw his sword around, her hand tightened on the haft of her axe. In the end, it seemed he was just making a show, for he took no action. Though, she admitted to herself, his intimidation seemed to have worked. Regardless, it left her with a vague feeling of distaste. Perhaps it’s the violence of his actions... But I have seen him commit no wickedness, he is not my business.

She walked across the room, each soft footstep accompanied by the clink of steel plates and the tap of her axe against the oak floor. She ignored the drunkard still lying on the ground, except for sparing him a stern frown. Her footsteps ended, leaving her standing at the only table that was relatively empty.

She smiled at the pretty, silver haired girl. “May I share your table young miss? I’m afraid it has been a rather long night.”

[Miniya]

Miniya glanced quickly towards the floor where the drunkard and bit her lip in an attempt to hold back her anger. It was times like these that she became aware of her desire to rid herself of all traces of her human nature. She loved her parents back they seemed to be one of the few decent folks among the race. Shaking her head in disgust she glanced over at the table that the drunkard had recently vacated. One cold glare silenced any protests from the remaining men.

Only after she took care of that problem did she turn to the girl she had just spoken to her softening her features.

"I am sorry about that, maim. Seems you chose a rather bad time to enter the inn. As for your request, I would be happy to have you join me. I am in need of a little civilized company at the moment."

She sent one more pointed glance towards the table of inebriates. They mostly ignored her but a particularly nasty one returned her glare. His black hair, slick with grease, fell in his face and shaded his frigid black eyes. A jagged scare ran down the left side of his neck and disappeared into his grubby shirt that was stretched taunt over his brawny shoulders. She repressed a shudder. This one could be problem. He seemed to possess an intelligence that his friend Byron lacked. She broke the gaze to look back at the girl.

Using her foot, Miniya pushed the chair next to her out in invitation.

"The waitress should be coming back with my order soon and yours if you ordered anything. I hope that this night is treating you far better than it his treated me. Then again, summers have never been particularly kind. What business brings you here?"

[Seth_Rahl]

Ifrit watched carefully the actions of the silver haired woman and the newcomer. A sixth sense told him that he had been watched during his actions with the drunkard and the tall man, and as the other woman's eyes roamed throughout the tavern Ifrit felt that she had been the one. An axe at her side told him that she was a warrior, and the way it hung casually at her side told him that she was no stranger in using it.

But also he noticed one other person as his eyes roved through the throngs of people. This man had lanky black hair and blacker eyes still, and they focused with a frightening intensity upon the silver haired woman. This was no common thug, Ifrit realized, as he saw the gleam of the cunning of a killer sparkle in the man's obsidiain eyes, and if the silver haired woman didn't be careful, who knows what kind of torture she could be put through.

Gesturing a waitress over with his unarmored hand, Ifrit whispered something in her ear. Her eyes widening, she nodded once and then scurried off towards the kitchen. Satisfied that his order had been filled, he turned his attention again to the black-haired man with the giant scar.

[Miniya]

Miniya could feel the man's eyes boring into her with frightening intensity. Hatred she could not comprehend emanated from his direction. She tried to keep facing forward, not wanting to provoke him. His eyes reminded her of a harsh funereal winter, so similar to the gaze of those spirits which haunted her. Her hand unconsciously drifted to her finger to check that her ring was still on it. Some of the tension drained. At least she was still protected from them.

"Here you go, maim."

She started from her reverie as the bar maid arrived with her drink. The girl looked at her bemused when Miniya returned her stare with a dazed look.

"You sure you should be drinking that tonight?"

Her lips quirked as she attempted a smile. "I never knew a place like this to question whether they should be selling their patrons alcohol."

The girl stared at her woodenly. "Never mind. I just have a bit on my mind." Miniya waved her off and the barmaid left, shaking her head in dismay.

Cailov continued to watch the white-haired wench who had started the commotion. No love was lost between him and Byron and he figured the lout had gotten what was coming to him for acting so moronic. No, something else bothered him about the girl. Something about her just seemed wrong, unnatural. She disconcerted him and he did not like it. He would not be able to rest easy until he uncovered what so disquieted him.

[Tamara Roth]

Tamara had long ago lost contact with her feet. She felt their presence peripherally, somewhere within the sodden boots that went squish, squish along the cold and muddy road. It was, she supposed, something of a blessing -- at least they were no longer in pain, and she could keep up a steady pace even with the muck dragging at her soles.

”…cedars of the valley, ohh, cedars of the wind… oh shall I die away from home, shall I see you again?”

Her marching song had sunk in volume as she travelled, now barely above a whisper; she sang for herself and no one else. Then again, there was no one else along the road into Underwood tonight; although she had earlier glimpsed hints of bootprints, the rain had washed them out by now and the nameless traveler was nowhere in sight. He or she must have been matching Tamara in pace, or moving faster still. Tamara had spun at least three different tales for herself earlier in the evening about who the traveler might have been, and what might have brought them out on the road in the downpour, but evening had given way to night, and night to deeper night. She was as mentally exhausted as physically; there was no thought in her mind, only a song sung almost as reflex and the steady rhythm of her boots squishing into the mud.

”…cedars of the valley, ohh, cedars of the vale… oh shall I fall so far away, or shall I yet prevail?”

Squish, squish.

A pair of fireflies danced in front of her eyes as she rounded a bend in the road. Irritably, she waved an arm at them, but they refused to stop hovering and dancing in front of her. Golden, so warm and glowing, inviting… “Nnnngh.” Tamara took another swipe, to no avail.

Then she blinked. Odd, for fireflies they were being extraordinarily still. And they were-- growing closer? More were joining them?

It took a good twenty seconds for the obvious conclusion to beat her over her sodden head. The lights were from candles in windows, and from firelight. She had made it to Underwood! Warmth, shelter, and possibly food -- her stomach grumbled at the reminder -- waited just a few more steps ahead. Just a few more steps.

Her voice dropped to humming, but her feet now cleared the muck by more; large, eager steps to carry her towards civilization. For a moment of lunacy she seriously considered breaking into a trot for the last stretch, but her feet twinged at the thought, and her scale was heavy on her shoulders. No, just to finish the walk into town would be good enough, for she had already covered thirty miles today.

As she neared the arch that marked the formal edge of Underwood, her eyes resolved two shapes in the rain; human shapes, with polearms and helmets. Soldiers, or guards. The first one slumped against the arch in what appeared to be slumber, while his counterpart stood upright and ready as though presenting himself for inspection. His eyes were wide and white in the darkness; Tamara blinked blearily as she met them, and sloshed to a stop.

“Miss! Ehrr… welcome to Underwood, ma’am.” Judging by the guard’s voice, he couldn’t have been any older than Tamara herself. The young woman found herself struck by a sudden picture of young Cam in a soldier’s chain and helmet, and found herself doubled over in hoarse, helpless laughter before she could help herself. Oh, dear, her younger brother as a town guard… it fit so well, too…

The young guard didn’t seem sure whether to be worried or offended. He settled on the former as Tamara forced herself up, wiping tears out of her eyes with a muddy gauntlet. “A-are you okay, miss?”

“Very well. Wheee… apologies, my apologies, soldier.” Tamara waved it off. “I have been walking for a very long time today and my mind crawls like cold molasses. ‘S there a place with a bed and a brew around here?” Ah, by Haidia she sounded horrible; the chill air must have gotten to her throat from all the singing. She coughed a few times, trying to improve matters.

“Yes, miss.” Eyeing her doubtfully, the young soldier continued. “You might try the Peaceful Promenade. M-my uncle’s co--“

Tamara flashed him a grin and stepped forward through the arch before he could finish, her entire body compelling her to find this place of golden warmth and comfort. “You’re a hero, soldier. Stay warm out here. Thaynes protect.”

“…right, miss… uh, you too!” Was that a salute that she caught out of the corner of her eye? Or some semblance of one? Tamara wasted a moment wondering why the boy was being so formal, then dismissed it with a shrug as she looked towards what was probably the town square. A wooden sign flapped over the doorway of building to the right, and she saw at least one P in the faded lettering. Good enough. Tamara pointed herself in the general direction and staggered forwards.

---

Oh, blessed smell of stale beer and trace of vomit… oh, glorious stuffy warmth… oh, wonderful creaky roof that managed to keep the rain out…

Tamara stood for a moment just inside the door, her mind closed to anything else, as she gloried in the feeling of standing someplace dry and warm. A puddle formed under her from her armor and cloak as she dripped on the wooden floor before her feet carried her over to the fireplace. The scales over her chest and thighs rustled as she knelt next to the flames, extending her hands perhaps a little too close. As warmth began to worm its way back into her limbs, so did a degree of awareness as to what was around her.

There were several tables, wooden and roughly hewn, but sturdy -- most of them were occupied. Her eye wandered to two nearby tables; at one, a few heavyset men that screamed ‘local drunk’ eyed those at and around the other table. And the second table seated quite the unusual lot, at least by Tamara’s standards. A woman in armor caught her attention first; she peered more closely, and picked out the curve of a battleaxe at her hip -- and worn confidently at that. Fascinating. And a more slender girl perched close on another chair, her hair and skin starkly white in the dim light of the commons. Not too far away, a tall man surveyed the room with a watchman’s care. His skin also showed pale, and if he could use the monstrosity of a sword strapped to his back, he’d be quite the fearsome warrior…

Tamara shook herself out of her thoughts and cozied up to the fire with a small wordless noise of contentment akin to those reserved for intimate acts in bed. Whatever mystery or happenstance had brought together this lot, and whatever had seemingly put them on edge, it could wait until she was warm again.

[Kovalai]

Her axe is a five and a half foot long axe, not so good for hanging from a belt guys =P
Think big, wicked looking executioner's axe, if it helps :D
Mirena smiled and took the offered chair with a sigh, setting her long axe within easy reach against a beam in the wall next to her. Her gaze drifted over the dark man staring at her seating companion. She may as well have seen the man before, for she knew his like. She could see the calculation, the violence within him. He may need to be dealt with, she thought. He noticed her looking at him, and met her eyes. Mirena’s lips tightened in a frown, then she turned back to the girl. “Thank you, miss. I find that good company can be hard to find when traveling, but often appears where you might least expect it.” She began to answer the girl’s questions, but paused, reading the tired expression on her face. She instead relished the moment’s respite, thanking the Three for protection, warmth and comfort.

It was that moment that the serving girl chose to arrive with the women’s drinks. Her companion's distraction broke, but she still seemed not wholly alert. Mirena took a sip of her tea, finding it surprisingly good. She frowned, and put out a hand to touch the girl’s arm. “Are you alright? You seem distressed." She smiled, "I would try not to worry overmuch. Days like this are needed for renewal. Life cannot always be warm and bright. My name is Mirena, what may I call you?”

Before the silver haired girl got a chance to respond, she noticed yet another young woman enter the inn as if she had reached the True Mirror, and quickly hurried to the fire crackling merrily nearby. This girl, too, was drenched in water and covered in mud. Mirena let out an exasperated sigh. Did Arliev spare no wisdom for these girls? Her voice rang out, melodious, firm, and nigh-offended. “You there, young miss! Please, come and sit with us.” Her tone of voice, though polite, clearly showed that the please was just a formality, and she would brook no argument. She saw that the same maid who had served them was staring at her from a table nearby. “If you please, bring two more cups of tea. Hot.” The maid jumped, and gave a quick nod before hurrying off.

Mirena cast a concerned, but critical eye at the two young women. “You girls really must learn the value of a good cloak.”

[Tamara Roth]

Her eyes slipped shut as her shoulder rested against the wall; sleep beckoned, and her soul craved the rest, the blackness. Awareness of what was around her faded, suspended for a long moment of floating nothingness--

“You there, young miss! Please, come and sit with us.”

--and Tamara jerked awake strongly enough to bump her head on the mantelpiece. Rubbing the spot through her damp hair, Tamara offered the Mirena a chuckle in reply. "As soon as I remove my boots, m'lady. My feet and the floor could both use the break."

She suited her actions to her words, swiftly removing both gauntlets and laying them out to dry by the fireplace. Her bare fingers were then free to undo the lacings on her boots, all of which had been covered in a layer of travel grime and mud that made the task that much more complicated. As she worked, she fleetingly compared the battleaxe's formidable owner to Professor Aerlani, her chief instructor in Ostlin and sword drill. Like the sharp-faced elf, this woman in armor spoke as though she was used to being obeyed, and Tamara found herself complying without question. Perhaps she was some sort of local militia commander?

The laces came free and Tamara stepped out of her boots, padding across the tavern floor in quiet sockfeet -- though the rattle of her scalemail rather ruined the effect. Offering a brief smile to the white-haired woman and the sword-bearing man in turn, she dropped into the chair with a heavy thunk of weary flesh, metal and damp cloth.

"Tamara tinu en' Garidas Roth," she introduced herself with a momentarily bowed head. "An honor to share with all of you... and so I have found, m'lady." Tamara turned her attention fully to Miren with a wry smile. "I packed in necessary haste and ignorance of the weather. Raieara is rarely so harsh in its rains, especially this late in the fall."

[Miniya]

She turned her attention back to the two women who had joined her at the table. There was strength in numbers. It was best to keep a wary eye but not to worry over much about the man until the time came. She was weary enough as it was and her mind already possessed a multitude of worries to mull over. There was no need to add to the cache without just cause. Besides, she had to admit that she was in the mood for some company. It could be quite lonesome traveling on one's own, especially when the chances of achieving her goal were so bleak.

"Sorry about that, my ladies. I seem to have much on my mind this night. My name is Miniya Renshaw" She looked down at her mud blotched clothing and glanced up with a sheepish grin. "As for my appearance....there is not much of an excuse. Let's just say that gravity has not been my ally this night."

She took a swig of her drink and sighed in contentment. It warmed her both inside and out. She had been introduced to the wonderful combination of coffee and alcohol by a friend back in mage school. She had possessed a preference for it ever since. Her eyes strayed over to the window where the rain was beating a steady rhythm against the panes of glass, obscuring the view outside. It truly was raining more than usual this night. Perhaps some divine entity was unleashing its wrath upon the earth. She turned back to her companions.

"What brings you all to Underwood? After all, you must all have a compelling reason to brave traveling in weather such as we are experiencing tonight?"

She pushed her foot against the leg of the table and pushed her chair further back in an attempt to inch closer to the fire. Her clothing and overcoat were still soaked and the moisture felt sticky against her skin as it started to dry. What she wouldn't give for a dry set of clothing and a warm bath. Unfortunately, everything she had brought with her was also soaked. There was nothing left to do but enjoy the present company and hope for the best.

[Tamara Roth]

Tamara shivered at the touch of evaporation, now that she was away from the immediate baking heat of the fire. Still, she was much warmer and more content -- and she couldn’t deny that sitting down after the long day’s march felt very, very good. Clasping her hands on top of the table and tensing her shoulders to still the shivering, she glanced between the two women before settling her gaze on the young one in white.

“Well… a fair question, I suppose. I came from Eluriand… from the University of Istien, and the troubles there.” The serving-wench set down the cup of tea in front of Tamara; she gave a cursory nod and wrapped her bare hands around the warmth that seeped through the pottery. “I departed just before the first wave of evacuees on… the order of my instructor and friend. And now I’m bound to Radasanth, to see what I can make of things there…”

There was no point in telling them of the song, or of Maelindris’ concern. They would doubtless not understand. Tamara wasn’t even sure whether any of them practiced magic, though in these lands it never paid to assume.

She raised the cup of tea to her lips, allowing a small sip to pass down her throat. A small appreciative noise vibrated in her chest for a moment. “…mmmm. That’s very good, actually... We didn’t see tea too often in Eluriand. But aside from hoping I can find my answers in Radasanth, I’m rather at loose ends.”

Tamara’s thoughts flickered even now to Eluriand. Were they under attack or siege at this very moment? Had they already fallen? And what of southern Raiera, and the plains, and her family’s orchard? For the first time in her life, Tamara found herself with no contact with her home -- a realization that she’d previously staved off with her relentless march. Now, though, in the warmth and the comfort, with company at hand, thoughts of others that she had known came far too easily to mind.

Sage, protect them all…

“And what of the two of you?” Tamara tilted her head to the side, looking back to the woman in armor as she drew a few more sips from her cup. The warmth in her belly dispelled her worry for the moment, though it remained lurking at the edge of her mind.

[Kovalai]

Bunny approved <.< >.>
Mirena’s expression darkened at the mention of the troubles in Raiaera. There was always evil in the world. Forces toiled malevolently in the dark places of Althanas, trying to bring ruin to all that good had created. But rarely was it so open, or so encompassing. A fire kindled in her chest, warming her more surely than any amount of tea had. Perhaps she would go to Raiaera, and see what aid she might be.

In young Tamara she could read the concern for her home, and what she had left behind. She knew it must have been quite difficult to leave behind everything she knew. She was less sure of the wisdom of sending her away. It may have been done for her own good, but Mirena wondered how much it was her own decision, and if she had the choice, would she have stayed to help protect her homeland.

Mirena wasn’t familiar with the University of Istien, but felt that Tamara likely didn’t wish to dwell on the subject. She began to speak, but she stopped as a thought struck her. She replayed the comments both girls had made, their matched ill-preparation, Raiaerian weather... She looked questioningly at Tamara, “Late in the fall? Dear, the summer has not yet ended.”

Tamara blinked once, tilting her head to the side. "It hasn't? But it was nearing an end when I left... and the ship must have been sailing for at least a month. Or was it?" The girl seemed to contemplate this for a moment. "Perhaps... but you're meaning to say that it'll become colder still? This is summer weather?"

Mirena laughed, a soft tinkling of bells. "Not where I am from, but I do not know Corone's native weather well. It was warmer when I arrived."

"Mhmm..." Tamara took another sip out of her cup and set it down, meeting Mirena's eyes. "Perhaps just a cold snap, then. You're entirely right, though -- even if this was fall, I’d need something better for travel later in the year." Her mouth opened again, as though she was thinking of saying something else, before it closed again. She looked down at the cup, studying the contents.

“I’m sure you both could find something in town when the rain subsides, I could help if you wished it.” Mirena’s expression lightened, but her tone was serious. “It’s rude of me, not answering your question. You could say I am... on a pilgrimage, of sorts.” She smiled softly, “I travel where the gods take me, and witness the souls of the people there. Where I go, I try to do what I may to see that justice is served, and that those who need protection receive it.”

[Nightfire]

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Down the stairs he came Dryden Amos having already registered at the Inn that Morning rather then endure foul and evil weather. Really that was why Taverns were invented. They were places for adventurers to duck and cover out of the rain. Enter Dryden Amos, a wizard, an adventurer, a man of wit, a man of intelligence! A man...who no damn bard would ever sing about if he didn't strike something beyond the nice four walls of an Inn. Now don't get me wrong an adventurer lived on Inns when they didn't feel like getting sick but, at the same time...

One did wish for a bit of excitement. A heavy cloak around the young man's shoulders and he was a human in his late teens though his slightly-weathered face suggested he had been traveling for awhile. His hair cut neatly and tied back and a sparkle of mischief in this beautiful blue eyes. Dryden saw not one, not two, but, three women sitting at a single table sort of area. It really wasn't crowded tonight but, what guy didn't pass up a chance to sit with that many women?

Really you'd have to be a monk, or gay, or just not have any balls at all and Dryden certainly didn't fall into any of those categories. So he tapped the counter getting a glass of spiced wine which he picked up the goblet and made his way. A table of three and gods were they lovely. Sure the axe on one of them the pale blond to be specific was a bit intimidating but, Dryden did hunger for a bit of conversation as he smiled when he reached the table.

"Mind if I join the three of you?" came an educated voice someone who looked at women as more then breasts on a platter so to speak. Or he could just be trying to impress him Dryden's tunic and leggings all suited for travel and he wore a pair o traveler's boots as well. He had left his staff upstairs so he was completely unarmed his gaze sweeping across the table.

[Highlander]

ooc: Sorry for the wait I've been a bit preoccupied.

ic: Connor stood back up and nodded to the guy that had flipped him and cast his gaze to Byron the guy who insulted one of the King's own. He then turned around to see a woman with a huge axe on her side. He he did a simple salute closed right hand to left breast. He then put his hand back on his rapiers hilt and his other hand on his longsword. He caught the gaze of Byron and followed it to the silvered haired woman. He took a mental note and picked up his overturned bar stool and put it back into its original place. He looked at the bartender and motioned for him to get closer. He made sure no one was listening and asked in a low tone "What can you tell me about Byron there if anything and I will give you two gold." He then waited for the bartender to answer.

[Kovalai]

Only moments after the words had left her mouth, their conversation was interrupted by a new voice. She looked up to find a young lad with a smirk on his face. His tone was arrogant, his expression was arrogant, he even stood arrogantly. Mirena’s expression hardened. She could see in his eyes the way he was looking at her two young companions. She knew that look well, had seen it on many men in many taverns. There were, of course, worse things, but nonetheless his attitude left a bad taste in her mouth.

She looked around the room meaningfully. After the short brawl, it seemed the inn had emptied out significantly, people either choosing to retire for the night, or perhaps go home to their families and sleep off their drink. At least half the tables were in some stage of disuse, either empty or eventually being emptied.

“We were in the middle of a conversation.” Her voice was laden with mild disdain. “I’m sure you can find yourself your own table, thank you.”

[Nightfire]

He heard that disdain in her tone already she didn't approve and saw that meaningful look as he looked at the blond for a moment. Oh how he didn't miss that large ask and that lovely uneasy crawl between his shoulder-blades at the thought of what she could do with it. Dryden wasn't about to be intimidated however, as he brushed his hair away from his face and gave a faint smile at her. A smile not a smirk as he turned to her for a moment. How to get out of this situation without needing attentions from a priest...

"Ah I didn't mean to interrupt your conversation there just seemed to be a pause and I thought it might be nice to meet new people." Dryden said quickly and still that smile on his lips even if he did feel a mite intimidated by that axe. Just a wee-bit mind you but, that bit was enough to remind him he was a mage not a fighter. He brushing his hair away from his face again out of habit as he lightly thought about his answer his eyes gazing at hers.

"Though I do hope the hostility is just the general categorization that I seem to be from and not me personally," he said with a grin now on his lips.

"After all I haven't even had a chance to introduce myself or do something reckless."

[Taskmienster]

This thread has been sitting since before the beginning of this year (2009). 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.