June 22, 2004
A Fight at the Dragon's Head Inn
The echoing of footsteps from the south announces the approach of a fidgety Dryth woman before an actual appearance is made. The woman's stern countanence borders on a scowl, a bit of grounded leaf rolled in a small bit of paper dangling from her slightly parted lips. Her steps lead her directly to the bar, her left arm gently scratching around a cut on the right, though a nearly identicle one appears on the left, neatly bandaged. At the sound of a muscular, young man's words, her head turns towards him as she lofts a brow, quickly looking him over. "By the looks of things, you'd gotten into a lot more trouble then I did."
A muscular, young man thinks about it for a moment, "No actually I got lucky, he hit me once, we talked for a moment and he left. I was quite lucky. But I do wish to appologise, I should have believed you from the start. I cant imagine what I would have done if I had handed you in and then found out what would have happened". He shudders silently at the thought.
A fidgety Dryth woman lowers her brow, her shoulders lifting in a light shrug, "Best be cautious about your hunting then. They may see that blood on ye and accuse ye of being a murderer next." With her words she gestures with right hand towards the stains on his clothing. "And no need to apologize," she chuckles. "I would have gotten myself free of you anyway."
A muscular, young man nods slightly, 'When were you planning to do it then? We were right outside the jail?'
A muscular, young man nods slightly to the Dryth woman, 'Well I've apologised good luck on whatever your endeavour is' nodding again he turns back to a freckled woman
'Sorry for the interruption, do you need another drink' a muscular, young man asks a freckled young woman politely.
A freckled young woman shakes her head and glances to her cup, and then to the muscular, young man. "No, thank you. Pleasure is not a sin, but overindulgence is." She smiles softly. "Where were we?"
A muscular, young man ponders for a moment then speaks quietly, 'I believe you were about to tell me about yourself'
A freckled young woman nods and thinks for a moment, biting her fingernail. She glances about the room, noting the other occupants. She picks up her skirt and moves to sit on a couch, avoiding the stains. "I came from a small group of the faithful, as I mentioned before."
A fidgety Dryth woman draws the pipe to her lips once again as a muscular, young man speaks, her left arm coming to fold beneath the opposite elbow as a support. Her brows raise momentarily, lowering once again as she exhales with a quiet snort, the smoke being blown from her nose. "I could have done it as soon as we were out of eyesight of the captain. /Numerous/ times I could have simply stopped short and busted ye in the nose with my head. And but of course I could have done it just before the jail had you not cooperated."
A muscular, young man turns his head to a Dryth woman, nods then asks 'Why didn’t you then?'
A muscular, young man nods to a freckled young woman
A fidgety Dryth woman furrows her brow, seemingly surprised by the response, her tone in her response one as if it should be common knowledge. " Because you released me. Would ye like to have had your head cracked even while cooperating?"
'But I wasn’t cooperating, but it doesn’t matter what’s done is done. You may or you man not have been able to get away, but you'd think that I DID let you go you would at least say 'thank you'' The muscular young man turns away angrily.
"Upsetting the regulars as usual I see.." Comes a whisper from the shadows before a man of average height steps from them, and toward a fidgety Dryth woman; the sound of footsteps eerily absent as he moves. His form is wrapped from head to toe in a finely woven black cloak, and the hood is pulled low over his brow, shielding his expression from view.
"For what?" a fidgety Dryth woman snaps. "Ye just said you weren't cooperating. Ye didn't truly release me either. Ye told me to do something if I could and bloody shoved me off. I've gotten away from brutes double your size. Perhaps I should have let ye have it then."
A muscular, young man promptly ignores the Dryth woman and continues his conversation with a freckled young woman. 'so....'
A freckled young woman glances towards the man of average height and lets her eyes linger for more than a moment, curiosity in her eyes. She reluctantly turns towards the muscular young man. "Yes?"
A muscular, young man eyes the man for a second then turns his towards a freckled young woman, 'You say you were a part of a group of the faithful?' he inquires trying to keep a harsh tone out of his voice.
Her eyes narrowed, a fidgety Dryth woman turns from a muscular, young man with a low growl towards the direction that her tapered ears conclude that the other voice has come from, her expression seeming to relax somewhat. Following the ease of her expression, she appears to become calmer overall, slowly stepping towards the side of a man of average height as if responding to a silent command.
A freckled young woman shakes her head at the mis-intereptation, glancing again towards the couple in the room. "No, I was merely an orphan. They raised me for their own. I suppose they were glad to have a child among them."
A muscular, young man takes a deep breathe then smiles, 'How was it, living amongst them?' he asks attentively.
A freckled young woman blinks at the muscular, young man's statement and then says, honestly, "Why, its all I've ever known."
A gaunt, capacious-eyed lass comes slowly down the stairs, her steps intending to be light, but none-the-less, her foot falls on a particularly un-evenly placed step, a loud ominous creek announcing her presence. She pause upon the bottom step, her arm sliding around the upright post that aligns the bottom of the staircase.
A muscular, young man nods gently, 'how long have you been in town?'
A man of average height's cloak is allowed to open, slowly, until it simply hangs from his shoulders. The waistcoat beneath similarly is not fastened and reveals a pale, well muscled torso covered in an array of finely inked tattoos; some the obvious work of a steady handed Skrel'eth tattooist. Turning toward the woman now at his side he murmurs: "I heard ye had a run in with the captain of the city guard.."
A freckled young woman replies, "Not very long, I'm afraid." She watches the new going-ons, trying to keep her ears closed to the other conversations. Unfortunately, her curiosity gets the best of her and she keeps an ear tuned into the man of average height.
A muscular, young man hearing the loud creak glances towards the stairs, He looks at a gaunt, capacious-eyed lass then at Dryth woman and quickly turns his attention back to a freckled young woman.
A muscular, young man asks quickly trying not bring too much attention to himself, 'How do you like it here', his eyes glance to the man of average height and to the Dryth woman then back to the freckled woman.
A gaunt, capacious-eyed lass leans her shoulder further into the upright beam, her cheek coming to a rest against the rough surface of the wood. Her long scarlet locks hang to just past her shoulder, obscuring the right hand side of her face with a particularly long bang. Her gaze moves almost lazily across the occupants of the Inn, lingering momentarily on a muscular, young man and a fidgety Dryth woman.
A freckled young woman nods slowly. "I like it enough, here. The brothers and sisters warned me of distraction."
A fidgety Dryth woman nods her head slowly, her ear turning out at the creek of the steps and her eyes following a path to the source, first to at the conversing pair then to a gaunt, capacious-eyed lass. Her eyes narrow once again with a slight grunt, though her words are clearly in response to a man of average height. "Aye. He was clearly discontent not catching me while we were both on our own...but ill-prepared he was ready to make his supposed woman do the work for him."
'What kind of distraction?' a muscular, young man asks quickly. He continues to glance quickly at the pair conversing in the centre and pack to a freckled young woman.
Following a fidgety Dryth woman's gaze toward a gaunt, capacious-eyed lass, what little of a man of average height's features that can be seen - his lips - display the beginnings of a grin. "Aye, as the large cats of old; the males would bask in the sun all day while their women hunted.. Nothing wrong with that as far as I can see." He chuckles lightly as he turns his regard to the room itself, inspecting the various patrons gathered.
A freckled young woman glances towards the man of average height, and unable to control herself, says to him, "But we are not animals, sir, and there are far more dangers for women in this world then men."
A muscular, young man looks a little shocked by the outburst of a freckled young woman and stops trying to hide his interest and just sits back and watches everyone in the room.
As a man of average height's gaze is drawn towards her, a gaunt, capacious-eyed lass returns it, her eyes unblinking. Her lips part a fraction and it seems as if at first words might pass them. Though evidently she thinks better of it, and she retains her silence.
A fidgety Dryth woman chuckles harshly, shaking her head as her gaze moves from a gaunt, capacious-eyed lass to a freckled young woman. "Only for the weak. And if that is the case, better to be sent to Morhiag."
A freckled young woman doesn't recognize the name of the place, but shakes her head. "A woman and a man were created to work hand in hand, not one for the other. What other reason would there be for two genders in this world?"
Turning his attention to a freckled young woman, a man of average height offers a soft chuckle, though not mocking, as he dips his head in an echo of a courteous bow before replying: "Not animals, true, though some might say we're worse. But with regard to the dangers for women? I would not say there were more, perhaps a different variety, but certainly not more."
"And I wonder who here is weak.." a gaunt, capacious-eyed lass begins, her gloved fingers unwrapping - one at a time, from around the post at which she stands. "Tired..." The fingers start to trace a pattern on a knot in the wood. "Listless... perhaps."
A freckled young woman clears her throat and turns towards the man of average height. "In regards to hunting, sir, there are far more dangers. For not only does a woman have to worry about the beast, but about what fate can come to her while in the wild alone. Men do not have their honour to guard, do they, sir?"
Though he tapered ears flick quickly from beneath her hair, a fidgety Dryth woman appears to disregard the words of a gaunt, capacious-eyed lass. Instead, a smirk tugs at her lips as she runs a hand back through her hair. "Why two?...For options."
His attention distracted by a freckled young woman, a man of average height displays no outward signs of acknowledgment of a gaunt, capacious-eyed lass' words. At a freckled young woman's comment he seems unable to contain a rumbling chuckle before replying in a jovial tone: "You are truly naive if you believe that to be the case -" He turns to send a knowing wink toward a fidgety Dryth woman.
A muscular, young man watches the exchange quietly, a smile coming to his face at the banter.
A freckled young woman stands for a moment, picking up the hem of her skirt to avoid stepping on it. She casts a long glance at the Dryth, then to the man. She gives a polite nod to the lass and moves to the door. Before leaving, she comments, "I'd much rather be naive then a servant to a lazy man."
A muscular, young man watches the freckled young woman leave then stands himself.
A fidgety Dryth woman maintains her smirk at the words and gesture of a man of average height, beginning to nod her head. "Aye.. many a time it should be the beast which should fear its fate."
A slow yawn forms over her lips, her eyes slipping into a half-closed state, though a gaunt, capacious-eyed lass's fingers maintain their trace of pattern upon the woodwork of the upright post. Her gaze flits between a man of average height and a fidgety Dryth woman, the yawn developing into more of a smirk as she presses her lips closed.
A muscular, young man glances about the room his eyes resting on a capacious-eyed lass
Turning to follow the freckled young woman with his eyes, a man of average height soon returns his attention to the room as a whole. Though after a moment's consideration his attention seems to focus upon a gaunt, capacious-eyed lass, regarding the woman at length before finally disregarding her presence and turning back to face a fidgety Dryth woman. "What of this guard captain, I heard they took you without bloodshed - and yet, that does not strike me as very... You."
A muscular, young man glances quickly around the room, makes his way towards the exit
A fidgety Dryth woman nods her head slowly, her body now shifting to face a man of average height. "I much preferred taunting him with the fact that he had to act properly, especially as there was a newcomer to the town interested in joining his ranks."
A muscular, young man stops at the door for a moment, hearing the words of a Dryth woman.
A muscular, young man turns back, towards the pair, 'Was interested, not anymore'
As the last words of the spell are uttered, a gaunt, capacious-eyed lass hops off of the bottom step, assured of her success as she brushes her hands down over the front of her cloak. She weaves her way through the scattering of chairs and tables, closing the gap between herself and the others in the room.
A muscular, young man eyes grow large as a capacious-eyed lass comes running down the stairs, bracing himself he watches carefully.
A muscular, young man notices a freckled young woman coming in and motions for her to stop.
A freckled young woman glances towards the muscular, young man with curiosity in her eyes. "Yes? I was only wondering where I might find a backpack, and knew I could ask you."
A fidgety Dryth's limbs seem to be having considerable trouble maintaining her upright position. She starts to slump, eventually finding herself laying upon the floor boards and her eyes finally closing.
A muscular, young man watches the Dryth woman slump to the floor then look up at a capacious-eyed lass fear in his eyes.
A freckled young woman frowns and glances to the Dryth, a look of concern crossing her eyes. She looks back to the muscular, young man with questions in her eyes. She then looks to the other occupants of the room.
A muscular, young man with a last look around the room turns and runs for the door.
Taking a step back from a fidgety Dryth woman and to the side, a man of average height sweeps his hand down toward the sword, sheathed at his belt and is already half done drawing the weapon before the exact nature of a gaunt, capacious-eyed lass' advance becomes clear his hand halts, the blade visible a few inches above the mouth of the sheath. "Bloody witch!" He exclaims, though an element of hesitation is clear in his statuesque position.
A freckled young woman watches the muscular, young man flee and the reaction of the man of average height and looks to the lass with a certain respect in her eyes. She resumes a location towards the back of the bar, ready to watch the scene as it unfolds.
"Now, I believe she has an appointment with the Captain. And I know how much he dislikes to be kept waiting. He has an awful temper on him sometimes." She pauses, "So I imagine you wouldn't want him to be kept waiting now would you.. _sir_?" a gaunt, capacious-eyed lass turns around one of the nearer tables, coming up along side the fallen woman's head, her own hand dwindling not too far from the hilt of the weapon at her side.
A muscular, young man enters the room apprehensively
A man of average height Flicking his gaze down to a fidgety Dryth woman's slumbering form and then back to a gaunt, capacious-eyed lass, the appearance of her weapon seems to steel his hesitation; apparently more at ease when dealing with threats of a more earthly nature he whips his sword from it's sheath, the blade cutting through the air in a wide ark that only narrowly misses a gaunt, capacious-eyed lass' head as he states flatly: "If it is her time to visit the halls of my mistress, then so be it - but you will follow soon after"
A freckled young woman glances from the fallen woman to the lass, to the man of average height and murmurs, "Interesting, I wonder if she'd make the same choice."
A freckled young woman bites her thumb for a moment, and then says, "That is of course, were she awake to make it."
A muscular, young man turns slowly to a freckled young woman, shakes his head slightly then watches the two combatants.
A gaunt, capacious-eyed lass slides the sword swiftly from it's sheath, the ring of metal echoing throughout the tavern. "So confident." Is all she says at first as she ducks under the swing of his weapon and brings her own up before her in a defensive arc. The hilt of the elegantly crafted steel short-sword is held comfortably within her grip. "That she will find Morhiag? So.. confident of her guilt?"
"All find their way to Her halls eventually, guilt or no. But I'll be happy to demonstrate to the non-believer!" a man of average height announces before drawing his weapon back before bringing it about in a wide, horizontal slash toward a gaunt, capacious-eyed lass' abdomen as he takes a step forward.
A muscular, young man watches the swordplay, quickly brings his sword up, just in case the fight brings them over this way
A freckled young woman widens her eyes at the violence, not actually expecting such a display. She glances from the wound on the lass to the man of average height.
The blade slices through the fabric of her bodice, drawing enough through her skin that a thin line of blood is left upon it's steel. Silence now reigns as a gaunt, capacious-eyed lass attempts a retaliation with her own sword, aiming for a lower more jab-like hit for her opponent's mid-section.
Moving as if he anticipated the direction and nature of the counter-attack, a man of average height weaves to the side and hops up onto one of the chairs, placing one foot squarely on the chairs back and causing it to overbalance; as it falls however he tumbles from it and into a low roll, belying a convincing talent for acrobatics. As he rises from the roll he has lost his cloak, and in his off-hand he now holds a dagger - drawn from his ankle-sheath during the manoeuvre.
A freckled young woman shakes her head and watches the lass hopefully. She folds her hands in front of her, her lips moving silently as she prays a small prayer.
A gaunt, capacious-eyed lass switches the sword into her left hand, taking the brief moment that a man of average height performs his acrobatic antics to trace a rune in the air, her middle finger pointing in his direction. As soon as the spell is released, she replaces the hilt back to her right hand.
Cursing loudly as the spell is invoked a man of average height manages to sweep his body low into a balanced crouch, but much to his dismay the spell is not so easily deceived and weaves down to strike him across the top of his left shoulder. He hisses viciously as the globe of energy seers his bare flesh. "Blood and bones!! I'll make you regret that before I kill you!" He promises before launching himself up and sweeping both blade diagonally up toward a gaunt, capacious-eyed lass' chest.
A freckled young woman starts to murmur her prayers, wincing at each slash that finds the lass' body. She looks to the man of average height and lingers on his wound, her eyes almost pitiful. She glances to the muscular, young man and notes his sword.
Rather than retort, a gaunt, capacious-eyed lass attempts to get out of the way of the sweeping blades, though without any success, her slight frame unable to move quickly enough to avoid the cut of the steel into her flesh. This time the amount of blood drawn is enough to stain the front of her bodice, the liquid seeping through and marring the smooth white skin of her chest. Again she uses her sword only to parry, this time attempting the spell with her left hand, the fingers not moving quite so smoothly.
knocked back a good foot or so, a man of average height wheezes momentarily as the spell slams forcefully into his abdomen. His face, contorted with anger and malice, seems to pale for a moment before reddening as he lets out a ferocious cry and charges into a gaunt, capacious-eyed lass, bringing his shoulder to bare and aiming to knock her back into the table at her rear.
The small of her back hits the edge of the worn tavern table with a loud smack-like sound, her back following the momentum of the fall and hitting the table and knocking several half-full mugs of ale as well as a plateful of food onto the ground. The surprise of the method of attack seeming to have caught a gaunt, capacious-eyed lass unawares. She fumbles for her sword, trying to bring it up before her, but without success.
A muscular, young man watches the exchange, noting the magic of the lass and the expert swordplay of a man of average height. He keeps his sword in front of him making sure he is ready for anything.
Pressing his advantage a man of average height all but climbs up onto the table above a gaunt, capacious-eyed lass, allowing his weight to fall down onto his knee which he sits over her abdomen as he releases his sword and with the now free hand, grabs wildly for the woman's left hand and brings his dagger down viciously, aiming to nail it through the palm, clearly hoping to prevent any further magical attacks.
A freckled young woman cries out and then covers her mouth, clearly relieved when the man misses her palm.
A muscular, young man quickly turns to a freckled young woman having forgotten about her, 'Run Anya, there’s nothing you can do.'
A freckled young woman glares at the man about to rob the lass of her powers and then shakes her head at the man. "Why are you not protecting her?"
A gaunt, capacious-eyed lass struggles violently, the sword falling from her hand to clatter onto the table, and her hand jerking to the side, narrowly avoiding being punctured through the palm. Her knee comes up sharply, aiming for a firm kick to the groin in time with the hand that attempts to get enough of a tracing of a rune off in order to release another spell - this time aimed for his own hand.
A muscular, young man turns his head to a freckled young woman and says 'its not my concern, I imagine the lass would move against me after she’s down with him'
'If anything I should be helping him' a muscular, young man mutters under his breathe
A freckled young woman blinks for a moment. "Why would she attack you?"
'She thinks I fucked the Dryth woman and let her go' a muscular, young man sighs.
Letting out a yell a man of average height manages to avoid the brut of the blast, but instead takes the blow along his forearm, which he yanks back sharply as if bitten by some viper. This, coupled with the blow landed against his groin is ample to overbalance him and he is sent tumbling over a gaunt, capacious-eyed lass' head and off the table, to land, only a scant few inches from the sleeping Dryth.
A freckled young woman nods at the lass' attack, seeming satisfied and turns towards the muscular, young man. "And you did not?"
A gaunt, capacious-eyed lass launches up for the sword, grabbing it in her hand as she dives down after the falling form of a man of average height. Apparently rather than taking the advantage to run, deciding to press for an attack. Her sword arcing down for a blow upon the back of the mans' head.
A muscular, young man sighs 'No I did not, but she would never believe me, besides after what I’ve heard I don’t want to be on 'her side'' he growls a little taking a step towards the fray.
A freckled young woman reaches out to stay the muscular, young man. "Because she is a witch? Leave her to her kill, if that is what she wants. She has overcome him, against the odds."
A muscular, young man looks at a freckled young woman 'Against what odds? she attacked them in the first place, he is only defending himself'
rolling onto his back just in the nick of time a man of average height is able to cock his head to the side, letting the sword sink into the wooden floorboards where his head had only moments past rested. With an angry growl he pulls his right leg back and releases a sharp, well placed kick, his heal smashing through one of the table's legs and sending splinters of wood across the floor. The blow, coupled with the weight of a gaunt, capacious-eyed lass upon the table's surface cause it to tip forward, toward a man of average height as he struggles to rise and thrust his dagger forward toward a gaunt, capacious-eyed lass' belly; should the blow land, a gaunt, capacious-eyed lass' weight alone would cause the blade to sink deep into her gut.
A freckled young woman asks "Is she not trying to bring the Dryth in for crimes?"
'Questioning, and they don’t treat woman at the jail here very kindly, if you get my meaning' a muscular, young man replies, his cheeks starting to flush with anger.
A gaunt, capacious-eyed lass "Do you, fool," This term and apparently this response is reserved for that of a muscular, young man, "Have any idea _who_ this is? There are not enough pints of ale in this Inn to count every person he's killed, not to mention the women _and_ children he has rap--" At this point, distracted by her retort, the table she is perched upon falls, her scant form falling forward and towards the blade of a man of average height. She attempts to twist out of it's reach, but not without the tip cutting into her side.
A freckled young woman answers, "No, I don't get your meaning. Jails are often unpleasant places to be. In fact, I believe that's the point." Watches the young lass, wincing at the wound on her stomach. "Women and children, raped?"
"Do you, fool," This term and apparently this response is reserved for that of a muscular, young man, "Have any idea _who_ this is? There are not enough pints of ale in this Inn to count every person he's killed, not to mention the women _and_ children he has rap--" At this point, distracted by her retort, the table a gaunt, capacious-eyed lass is perched upon falls, her scant form falling forward and towards the blade of a man of average height. She attempts to twist out of it's reach, but not without the tip cutting into her side.
"Aye! Especially children, I /love/ the way they SQUIRM!" a man of average height taunts as he twists around to slash at a gaunt, capacious-eyed lass' back as she falls, before trying to climb onto it after she reaches the floor. "And you know what I do to them after I've had my fun?" He continues before snapping his teeth down, as if to take one of her ears off. In the fray, the subtle changes in colour of the collar he wears likely had gone unnoticed, but at his last insinuation the melanoid blues and greens flair angrily into vivid reds and yellows, much like the markings of a poisonous serpent.
A freckled young woman gasps and steps towards the man of average height, bring her hand up. "Children, you monster? You deserve to die." Her eyes turn a deeper green and her cheeks flush.
Pinned now to the floor, a gaunt, capacious-eyed lass struggles to lift her upper body up, though with a limited amount of success. "And for all that you have done." She states, her words coming out between gasps of air, for the first time, the exhaustion of the short - yet frantic - battle starting to set in. "Your accomplishments pale - and will always.. _always_ pale in comparison to my own. That _must_ piss you off.. hmm?"
A muscular, young man steps towards the two combatants, keeping his sword up. 'All I know is what I’ve heard, the rumours may or may not be true. Either way, I don’t really care anymore.'
A freckled young woman steps closer and takes a swing towards the head of lass' assailant, trying to slap him, her first attempt at violence.
A freckled young woman gasps as her hand makes contact, the blood on her hand making her shake. She looks from herself to the man's head, unsure of her next move.
A muscular, young man gasps in astonishment of Anya's hit.
Twisting the dagger back, and about to send it down into a gaunt, capacious-eyed lass' spine her words seem to strike some sort of cord in a man of average height, and he pauses, if briefly. "What do you mean??" His expression betraying a hint of curiosity, though an angry one, he instead brings his blade down toward her side. Any further reacting to the woman's words are halted as the stinging slap of a freckled young woman catches his nose, and a spray of blood is released into the air. he recoils sharply, hopping back and to the side, bringing him over the yet slumbering form of the Dryth as he turns to regard the woman who had struck him.
Twisting the dagger back, and about to send it down into a gaunt, capacious-eyed lass' spine her words seem to strike some sort of cord in a man of average height, and he pauses, if briefly. "What do you mean??" His expression betraying a hint of curiosity, though an angry one, he instead brings his blade down toward her side. Any further reacting to the woman's words are halted as the stinging slap of a freckled young woman catches his nose, and a spray of blood is released into the air. he recoils sharply, hopping back and to the side, bringing him over the yet slumbering form of the Dryth as he turns to regard the woman who had struck him.
A freckled young woman regains her composure and glares at the man of average height, clenching her hand into a fist. She steps towards him once more, her eyes on fire and her movements sure. "You're a monster, a demon. To do such a thing to helpless children, and to brag of it.."
A muscular, young man listens to the words of a freckled young woman but keeps his eyes on a capacious-eyed lass.
A freckled young woman glances towards the gaunt, capacious-eyed lass and nods as if to tell her to make an escape, then turns back to the man of average height. "Not only are you lazy, you're evil."
Glaring at a freckled young woman for a moment, a man of average height seems about to retaliate. Then, surprisingly, a broad grin spreads out across his lips and he reaches up with his free hand to wipe an index finger across his philtrum, wiping some of the blood off before murmuring: "You've no idea.." He begins, before pausing to suckle the blood from his fingers. "How much that turned me on." He ends, with a sadistic chuckle.
A muscular, young man chuckles politely then stops, amazed at himself
"I mean... Morhiag would more likely welcome me when compared to your measly achievements" a gaunt, capacious-eyed lass starts to say, blood seeping from several of her wounds as she drags herself up into a sitting position, sweat dripping down over the side of her face, mixing in with the dirt and blood. This time it is her that approaches with an attack for a man of average height's back, aiming to wrap her arm around the front of his neck, her body pressed against him from behind, bringing the flat of her palm across the collar at his neck. "Keep very still, whilst the little wee spell.. is.." She pauses to catch her breath, "Relatively harmless from a distance.. hitting from this proximity.. your neck.. would likely break it."
A freckled young woman blinks for a moment, staring at the man of average height. "I shouldn't have struck you, the guardians taught me never to strike those who aren't right in the head." She watches the lass' movements and shakes her head. "Why did you not escape?" She asks her.
A muscular, young man jumps forward swinging his sword into the capacious-eyed lass' back'
A freckled young woman cries out, "Beildar, no!" and sighs with relief at his miss. "Did you not hear the evils this man spoke of, and bragged of?"
A muscular, young man growls 'I don’t care about him'
A freckled young woman glances from the man of average height to the lass, trying to decide her next movement. Her eyes carry an intense hatred for the man she hardly knows, but also doesn't want to see the lass outnumbered.
A man of average height's body stills suddenly, though at a gaunt, capacious-eyed lass' movements and reach for his neck, a chilling smirk touches his lips once more. He says nothing but allows his eyelids to flutter closed.
As soon as the sable haired man's eyes close the collar which, until now, had been quite passive save for the change in colour, snaps into motion. The long, scaled body uncoils from about the man's throat with a mechanical, elastic force, and wraps tightly around the capacious eyed lass' wrist with a fierce snap, curling tighter and tighter until the sound of grinding bones begins to issue from beneath it's constricting body.
A freckled young woman cries out, "No!" and steps forwards again. She grimaces at the sound coming from the machine. "Let her go!" She commands.
A guttural scream echoes close to the ear of a man of average height, only halting once a gaunt, capacious-eyed lass's teeth finding grip upon the tip of his ear, bearing down into the flesh as she feels the bones within the wrist of her hand starting to crush. The pain causing enough of a distraction that any sort of spell would be impossible to release.
A muscular, young man swing went quite wide, stepping back he watched as the machine crushed the capacious-eyed lass' hand. then steps into another swing.
A freckled young woman glances around and measures the lass' chance for survival without intervention, and then clenches her fist. She bites her lip for a moment, her eyes staying on the machine on her wrist, then brings her hand up for yet another swing toward the man of average height's stomach, only slightly shaking.
The peace of a man of average height's expression is short lived as the pain of a gaunt, capacious-eyed lass biting into his ear causes him to let out an equally vicious cry before snapping his head forward, causing her teeth to rake through the thin flesh and cartilage. The reactionary movement is ill thought out, however, as it sends him smack into a freckled young woman's body, in his mindless anger and pain he lashes out viciously with his dagger, which happens to swipe towards her right cheek.
A freckled young woman gasps at the weapon swung at her, never being in battle before, and backs off slightly. She backs up, disgusted with the contact of the man of average height, her hands tremouring. She starts to whisper prayers to her goddess and takes one more swing, hoping to take advantage of the confusion.
A muscular, young man recovers from his wild swing and looks around the room, he begins to carefully make his way towards a capacious-eyed lass.
The antics of a muscular, young man behind her seem to go un-noticed by a gaunt, capacious-eyed lass. Her hand still caught within the grip of the scaled creature around her wrist, a gaunt, capacious-eyed lass is dragged forward the half foot as a man of average height swipes for a freckled young woman. Her teeth release their grip upon his ear, only to find grip upon his shoulder instead, though his shirt offers a moderate amount of protection from the teeth actually piercing the skin. Breathing heavily, she starts to slowly slump, her legs unable to hold the weight of her injured form.
A muscular, young man grins evilly as he approaches a capacious-eyed lass...
The sickly, grinding snap of the capacious eyed lass' wrist being broken beneath the impossible pressure of the scaled creature is accompanied by it's sudden release as the scaled body goes limp and falls from her arm to meet the floor before coiling tightly again into a small ball. A shrill series of high pitched whistles released before the creature falls silent once again.
A freckled young woman falls against the table, unbalanced by her missed attack, and looks sadly at the form of the lass. She looks at the muscular, young man she thought she knew and realizes she hardly knew him at all. At the sound of the breaking bones, she watches helplessly.
A slender young woman descends the stairs lightly, her eyes glancing quickly over the room before having reached the bottom.
A slender young woman hops lightly over the last step before moving back toward the wall, glancing over at those fighting.
A muscular, young man comes up behind a capacious-eyed lass and rests the tip of his sword on the back of her neck. 'Don’t move ,'miss craven' he utters mockingly
Whether through luck or skill it is unclear how a man of average height manages to avoid a freckled young woman's blow, however, the anger filled expression he wears is enough to imply he is aware of it, and in retaliation takes a moment to better aim his jab before sending the blade of his dagger for the woman's face a second time. However, at the sound of the creature's whistle he becomes distracted and the blade goes wide, aiming now for the woman's cheek as he begins to turn toward the source of the sound with a rather urgent look in his eyes.
A freckled young woman clutches her cheek and cries out in pain, sinking to the floor. She glances towards the lass, defeat and fear in her eyes. Blood and tears pour down her face.
A slender young woman walks slowly around the edge of the room, leaving as much space between those fighting and herself. She watches them rather distantly as she works her way to the southern door.
Blood falls from the corner of a gaunt, capacious-eyed lass's mouth, as well as from several other places where blade had made contact with flesh, but by far the worst of her injuries is the crushed hand that lies at her right side. She swallows slowly, obviously faint from both the pain and the blood-loss. Her eyes close as she feels the blade of the sword place at her neck. "Somehow, it is much more of a crime for me to call you a fool than for that man to kill, rape and the like?" The words come out huskily, barely said.
A muscular, young man keeps his eyes on the capacious-eyed lass and asks the man of average height, 'This is your duel, what do you want done with her'
A freckled young woman wipes away her tears with a bloody hand, watching the muscular, young man and his weapon. "You've defeated her, let her go." she asks of the man of average height.
Spinning around and dropping into a crouch a man of average height quickly finds the small, coiled creature upon the floor and scoops it up. His attentions suddenly touched by something almost akin to affection, or paternal guardianship, and likely the only indication that the man has any capacity to care for anyone, or thing, else at all. He is quick to sit the coiled ball to his throat, where it slowly reattaches itself.
A muscular, young man continues to keep his sword ready and his eyes never leave a gaunt, capacious-eyed lass.
A freckled young woman rises to her feet once again, keeping a hand to her cheek. She turns towards the muscular, young man. "Beildar, leave her alone. She is the only one with a soul here, it seems."
"My hand may be injured but don't prove yourself to be the total fool I claimed you to be. I can still cast a spell single handedly. A spell that could easily render you un-conscious. Nor would striking me be to your advantage with the temple guard chasing you down... stand down." a gaunt, capacious-eyed lass's words gain in strength towards the end, the last two words said firmly.
A muscular, young man pushes his wait behind the blade
A freckled young woman rushes to the side of Beildar and cocks her fist. "I wouldn't like to strike you, but don't do it."
A muscular, young man tries to plunge his sword into a gaunt lass' neck but slips on some blood and hits the floor winded.
Flicking his gaze across to the fallen Dryth for the first time in the last few minutes, a man of average height snarls and finally thinks to retrieve his sword, using the conflict between the other parties to start dragging his still unconscious companion toward the door.
A freckled young woman watches the man of average height's attempted escape and glares. "You're a coward, and will flee from a woman with a broken hand and one who's never fought before? No goddess would be wanting you," she snarls.
A gaunt, capacious-eyed lass twists around, the un-injured hand that had been mid-way through tracing the pattern slapping down across the side of a muscular, young man's shoulder as she mutters, "I warned you.."
A muscular, young man growls as the shock runs through his body, and quickly gets to his feet
A muscular, young man glances at a capacious-eyed lass then throws his sword at a gaunt lass and aims a punch for her stomach.
With her eyes now closed, a gaunt, capacious-eyed lass doubles up as the punch lands into the centre of her stomach, further damaging the already bloodied sword wound. Her injured hand hangs limply at her side whilst her left makes an attempt at tracing the rune pattern used only moments earlier.
Suddenly angered by a freckled young woman's challenge a man of average height slows his retreat and sets his companion down, stamping a step forward, his form shrouded with anger and his face marked with blood stains, creating a demonic mask as he bellows: "You think I flee from you, whore? I could kill you with a WORD."
A freckled young woman frowns as her eyes flicker at the word whore, stepping towards the man. She glances to the lass at hearing the words for the spell go again, and then turns to the man of average height once again. "I'm not a whore, and I wouldn't doubt such a retreat from the likes of you. Another blow would send me to my goddess, but at least I'd go knowing I left this world with honour."
"Ha! You think I'd let a pretty little piece of meat like you take that with you? Eh? I think not--" a man of average height's threats suddenly still, and for a moment he seems as if he concentrates on hearing something to the south, his head turning as if to get a better angle. And sure enough, moments later the high pitched whistle, indicative of the guards, can be heard. "Bloody hells!.." He exclaims before turning back to regard a freckled young woman. "Never mind, lovely, there's plenty of time for us to get -- better acquainted.. heh." And with that he stoops to gather his companion, swinging her over his shoulder, though looking as if he is struggling with her weight, and departs at a stressed jog.
A freckled young woman spits on the ground. "You'll never touch me." she says hatefully.
A muscular, young man swings his hand in again aiming for her stomach
A freckled young woman turns back to the centre of the room, touching her cheek softly and wincing. She tosses a mean look to Beildar. "Now that he's ran, will you?"
This time, the punch misses - thankfully, and a gaunt, capacious-eyed lass is able to retain the concentration of her spell, her left fist swinging out wildly for where she believes the form of a muscular, young man to be. Her own eyes squeezed shut and her teeth digging deeply into her bottom lip.
A muscular, young man stumbles back a bit, pain evident on his face. Growling furiously he swings again.
A freckled young woman takes the opportunity of the muscular, young man's shock to take another swing. She steps forwards and swings wildly, prayers spilling forth from her lips.
Moving at a slow jog a tall, muscular Human heads toward the inn from the east. The echo of high pitched whistles about the square indicate that someone has risen an alarm, and by the sound of conflict coming from the north, it is not hard to assume where this alarm originated.
Starts to begin a second spell, though finds her energy lacking, her gaunt frame slumping back against one of the wooden chairs. a gaunt, capacious-eyed lass's decline only halted buy it's wooden structure for only a moment before she collapses fully towards the ground. A sharp scream leaves her lips, her injured arm crushed beneath her own body.
A freckled young woman grunts as she falls forward and lands on the bar, looking back apologetically to the lass. She pushes herself off and then stops suddenly, amazed at the feeling within in her body. Her eyes widen as she guesses at the source and whispers a prayer of thanks and stays her blows. "Lass, please.. only a little more. My blows are only missing.."
The sound of whistling grows louder, but soon becomes drowned out by the sound of armoured footsteps moving to converge on the common room, one set specifically louder than others, and close to the south.
A freckled young woman moves to the lass's side and places herself between the muscular, young lad and the crumbled body. Her eyes glare with challenge.
A slender young woman pauses quietly in the doorway, her eyes drawn to the others, before moving a few steps over to lean back against the doorframe.
Hearing the whistle and with not much of an option before him, a muscular, young man runs upstairs and throws himself out of a window.
Looking around a muscular, young man notices he is running out of options and begins to run upstairs
Leaning towards a gaunt, capacious-eyed lass, a freckled young woman looks curiously and glances to her broken hand. She watches a muscular, young man retreat, spitting after him, then turns back. "Can I get you assistance?" she asks?
A muscular, young man runs back downstairs a crazed look in his eyes
A muscular, young man charges through the room trying to reach the front door
Tilting her head slightly to the side, a slender young woman steps slightly more out from the doorframe.
A gaunt, capacious-eyed lass draws a long breath in, the air coming past her lips causing her to cough suddenly. "Bl-bl-bloody oath, that frellin' hurts.." She manages to get out between wheezes, her head hanging down over her injured hand, scarlet hair clinging limply to her brow.
A slender young woman lifts her eyes somewhat abruptly as she looks over toward a freckled young woman, 'Are you speaking to me?'
"Thank ye lass.. but if it's all tha' same, I'd rather tha'... I'd not be wantin' ta be trustin' the man who held a blade so recently to my throat ye ken?" a gaunt, capacious-eyed lass spits out a mouthful of blood, adding another stain to the numerous spots upon the floor boards. Her right open tentatively opens and glances down at the crushed and mangled mass of her right hand.
A freckled young woman looks confused for a moment and blinks at a gaunt, capacious-eyed lass, then glances to her hand. "I didn't hold a blade to your throat? I only wondered if there is anything I could do for you."
"Not ye lass, the idiot tha' jus' ran outta 'ere." The other eye tentatively opens, her mis-matched blue-grey eyes dim within the faded light of the Tavern. a gaunt, capacious-eyed lass releases a long and steady sigh, "Even if ye were the sort ta be usin' magicks, I donna think there's tha' much ye can do for me."
"Is there anyone else I can seek out for you?" a freckled young woman asks, despairing at the condition of a gaunt, capacious-eyed lass's hand.
A slender young woman shakes her head slightly and leans more comfortably back against the wall, her eyes moving to look over the floor and couch with a somewhat sceptical expression.
"Nay.. just need a chance to catch a breath of air, then I'll see about seeking out tha' hospital an' tha lot there. They're pretty good a' patchin' up.. an' if ye've the magicks ta be affording potions.. they can cure jus' 'bout anythin'..." a gaunt, capacious-eyed lass draws a sharp breath into her lungs, the sound of a hiss coming past her lips as she inadvertently places her weight upon the crushed right hand. She spits out another mouthful of blood and lets out an involuntary curse.
A slender young woman glances briefly at a tall, muscular Human before returning to her apparent study of the room.
A freckled young woman nods slowly and glances to the tall, muscular human. She touches her cheek almost sorrowfully and smiles to a gaunt, capacious-eyed lass. "I'll have to try to remember that," she says almost thankfully.
A chestnut-haired Seari woman likewise looks after the retreating man for a moment when she sees a tall, muscular Human's attention diverted. Taking in the latter's words, she gnaws her lower lip a moment and gives his attire a once over, evidently deeming him some assurance as to her safety should she enter the inn. After waiting for him to disappear through the doorway, she follows.
A freckled young woman nods and moves away from a gaunt, capacious-eyed lass, smiling softly. She picks up the hem of her skirt with her bloody hand to avoid stepping on it and retreats towards the stairs. "Take care, and you should have that hand looked at. It might be salvaged yet."
A tall, muscular Human trudges into the common room, the sound of his plate-clad boots making a racket and carving small gashes into the already worn floorboards. His gaze first sweeps to the left, then the right, assessing the damage to the furniture and the blood which stains some of the tables before his eyes follow the trail to a gaunt, capacious-eyed lass's slumped form. His jaw goes limp for the briefest of moments before stiffening as he lets out a cry: "Ven!! What in Lord Cymur's great name's 'appened to ye?!"
With a strong sigh, a muscular, young man enters the room, he drops to his knees and hold his hands above his head in a gesture of guilt.
Lifting herself from against the wall, a slender young woman brushes some loose hair back behind her ear before crossing the room to a new place on the wall near the stairs.
"Well.. leas' tha' were three of 'em.. an' I did 'im some fair mount of damage .. iffin' it weren't fer tha' new recruit of yers-- fuckken oath it bloody 'urts.." a gaunt, capacious-eyed lass lets out a squeal, the injured hand suddenly cradled within her lap as she draws herself up to sit cross-legged. Her bodice split in several places, and gashes releases a slow trail of blood from the injuries.
A chestnut-haired Seari woman enters the room dripping wet and casts distasteful glances at the discarded weapons. She eyes the other patrons warily as though trying to guess at who exactly had been involved and seeming content to steer as clear of them as of the rain outside.
Crossing quickly toward the slumped form of a gaunt, capacious-eyed lass, a tall, muscular Human reaches up and pulls his cap from his head and lets it fall, forgotten, to the ground beside the woman. Lowering into a crouch before her he begins to speak. "Wha'? Ye make little sense, what new recruit-- Oh!" He suddenly seems to grasp her meaning, and twists about to stare off toward the southern exit, though by the look of shock on his features he seems genuinely surprised to have his gaze met by a muscular, young man, kneeling just inside the entrance.
A muscular, young man continues to sit on his knees, his head down and hands in the air. Patiently waiting for the punishment he rightfully deserves.
"An' tha' Demon an' the Dryth.. they're all in on it ta-gether they are... all three of 'em" a gaunt, capacious-eyed lass mumbles, her words dragging together and becoming more than a little incoherent in the process. Her eyes squeeze tightly shut, the form of the kneeled man near the door going entirely missed, along with the quiet observation of a slender young woman and the entrance of a chestnut-haired Seari woman.
Once she has deemed the crowd of no immediate threat to herself, a chestnut-haired Seari woman moves nearer where a tall, muscular Human is hunched over a gaunt, capacious-eyed lass. Her eyelids drift a tad farther apart as she seems now to take an interest in the area of recent conflict. She eyes the surrounding patrons with new interest and steps near enough the aforementioned pair to attempt to hear their conversation clearly. She slowly lifts off her soaked cloak as she moves near them, but is quiet so as not to disturb the exchange.
A slender young woman rocks forward on her feet gently, leaving the support of the wall, and makes her way quietly to the base of the stairs. She glances once more toward a gaunt, capacious-eyed lass and then moves her eyes to a chestnut-haired Seari woman, her gaze pausing briefly as she lifts her hand to the railing by the stair.
"Tha' would explain the escape of the bloody witch.." a tall, muscular Human growls bitterly, slowly pushing himself back to his feet, his attention remaining locked upon a muscular, young man. "Ye did this? To 'er?" He demands, gesturing behind him to a gaunt, capacious-eyed lass where she sits upon the floor, clothed in blood soaked rags and cradling her ruined hand.
The sound of heavy foot steps echoes through the Southern half of the common room, proceeding the entrance of three guards men by only a couple of moments. The taller of the three looks to a tall, muscular, young man for orders, asking curtly, "Sir?"
A muscular, young man remains on his knees, completely silent. For some reason he doesn’t notice the entrance of the three guards. And refuses to answer the Tall, muscular human. His thoughts seem to be sent inward. his eyes shut tightly.
The rest of her face expressionless, a slender young woman smiles only faintly before turning up the stairs, making a point to skip lightly over the first step.
Swallowing sharply, a gaunt, capacious-eyed lass reaches down for the hem of her skirt with her un-injured right hand, attempting to tear off a length of it. With some difficultly the surprisingly tough fabric eventually concedes and she produces a bandage. She swallows again and turns the crushed hand over within the palm of the un-hurt one.
Looking to the assembled trio of guards who now stand behind a muscular, young man, a tall, muscular Human shakes his head frustratedly, anger clearly brewing just below the surface as he turns his attention back to a gaunt, capacious-eyed lass for a moment, noting the state of her crippled hand and the way the flesh is in parts already a sickly dark purple, bones twisted at odd angles. When he looks back to a muscular, young man it is with an expression of utter contempt. "Take tha' son of an army whore away, toss 'im in tha' cells till I thin' what ta do with 'im." He hisses.
A chestnut-haired Seari woman glances down at her cloak as though grudging it its wetness anew. "I'd have given a strip of this if you needed a bandage," she ventures, indicating the sopping article. She takes a few bold steps closer to where the injured woman is situated, eyes sparing a quick look in the direction of the armored man, perhaps expecting to be kept back.
A muscular, young man keeping his hands out rises and makes to follow the guards
The larger of the guards approaches a muscular, young man. Cautious as he reaches for one of the extended arms and twists it sharply around the man's back. He gives him a prompt shove forward. The other two following in tow.
Though it does the injury little good, a gaunt, capacious-eyed lass continues to attempt to wrap it up in the make-shift bandage. Her intent seeming to be more to put the offending limb out of sight rather than actually do anything productive for it. Her teeth find a grip upon her bottom lip, holding it firmly as even the soft touch of the fabric causes a fair element of pain.
Turning from the guards as they lead the young man from the inn, a tall, muscular Human's anger seems to melt away, replaced with acute concern for a gaunt, capacious-eyed lass. Though he passes a cursory glance to a chestnut-haired Seari woman, though he does not directly address her for the time being, instead he speaks to the wounded woman as he once again moves to crouch beside her. "Ven, wha' 'appened? Ye said tha' Dryth witch an' a demon? Ye mean tha' sable 'aired bastard? They were 'ere?" The questions are presented in a soft tone, full of appreciation for the pain a gaunt, capacious-eyed lass is so obviously enduring.
A chestnut-haired Seari woman seems more deterred from interference by the lack of attention paid her than any command to stay back might have done. She moves away from the pair toward the nearest empty seat, heedless of whether or not any others occupy the table. She watches the crowd begin to dissipate by degrees after the exit of the other guardsmen and the guilty-faced young man while still keeping an alert eye on the remainders of the conflict.
"Were.. they ran off 'bout .. few seconds.. nay.. minutes.. I think.. ago.." a gaunt, capacious-eyed lass mumbles, her hand continuing to weave the bandages around the sodden mass of bones and blood, obviously dis-orientated. Every few seconds her eyes suddenly squeezing shut to fight off a wave of nausea that threatens to overwhelm her. Giving up on the bandaging, she suddenly pushes herself upwards, stating, "I think I'd bes' be headin' ta bed." Her hand hangs limply at her side.
A burly man with a shiny, bald head slowly wanders along the length of the bar toward the small portal which allows access. Seeing a chestnut-haired Seari woman seating herself at the table while most are leaving the bar room, he takes the opportunity to elicit what little custom he may have this night after the earlier antics. "'ey, lass, ye drinkin' er eatin'? 'alf price fer ye - seein' as tha room's in a wee bit o' a state." He offers.
"I.." a chestnut-haired Seari woman begins automatically, not turning at first to face the burly man. Finally attaching meaning to the words she'd only half caught, she looks to him, cheeks shading a bit. "I'll have.. uh.. I'll have an ale." No sooner have the quickly uttered words left her mouth than she is once again engrossed in the goings on of the guardsman and his injured charge.
"Bed?!" a tall, muscular Human exclaims, shock and alarm as clear in his voice as the words themselves as he quickly rises to stand before a gaunt, capacious-eyed lass, baring her way toward the stairs. "Ye'll be sleepin' in tha' 'ospital thiseve, I donna care if'n I 'ave ta carry ye kickin' an' screamin'.." He states flatly.
"Ta be honest, I doubt tha' right now I could be doin' tha' much kickin' an screamin' but I'd advise keepin' back, cause I thin' I could quite easily be doin' a bit of throwin' up right bout now ye know." a gaunt, capacious-eyed lass mumbles, her face damp from mix of perspiration and blood, though surprisingly pale skin can be seen in a few clear patches. She takes a half step forward, her hip bouncing off the edge of a table.
A burly man with a shiny, bald head quickly nods and turns back to make his way toward the bar, intent on earning at least some coin tonight. As the barman tends to a chestnut-haired Seari woman's order, another guard, a man of diminutive stature dressed in robes rather than armour, makes his way toward a tall, muscular Human and a gaunt, capacious-eyed lass. "Good' eve cap'n, if'n ye'd like, I could make sure she gets a good bed back at tha' 'ospital. An' could see to 'ere 'ealin' right smart."
Glancing over the short man a tall, muscular Human appears about to decline the offer, before thinking twice. With a reluctant sigh and nod that speak much of his personal attachment and desire to oversee a gaunt, capacious-eyed lass' transit to the hospital, he replies: "Aye, well ye'll be better 'elp to 'er than I would like as not. But ye be sure she gets tha' best, an' I mean tha' very best. We'll be takin' care o' whatever bill there is ta be paid." e instructs, turning to regard a gaunt, capacious-eyed lass once again, the look of worry obvious as he regards her wounded hand.
A chestnut-haired Seari woman shifts in her seat as though anxious to rise and follow the others out, but restrains herself from leaving the chair. She casts a glance over to the bar and clicks her tongue softly, but is only kept from her vigil over the scene for a few seconds. She drums her fingers on the table and seems not to notice that she has rested her saturated cloak in her lap.
A gaunt, capacious-eyed lass steadies herself with her good hand against the table top, and with a small wince, starts to follow the guard from the room, her eyes looking back over her shoulder towards a tall, muscular Human as she departs.
A burly man with a shiny, bald head deftly pours a full tankard of ale, the head frothy and full before turning back and heading toward the table at which a chestnut-haired Seari woman now sits. He sets the tankard down before her and announces: "There now lass, a finer pint ye'll no' find in all o' Telantha!"
As the capacious-eyed lass departs, a tall, muscular Human turns his worried gaze about the inn room on a whole, though it's clear to anyone who has been actively observing their previous interactions, that it is simply a remainder of lingering concern for the woman who had so recently left the building. He stoops to collect his skullcap from the ground and then casts a more critical gaze across the disarray of furniture before finally turning to regard the few patrons still bold enough to remain in the inn with in it's current state.
A chestnut-haired Seari woman smirks to herself before turning the expression on the burly man. "I don't drink, but I'll take your word for it." She pulls the tankard across the table and leaves her palm cradled against it while fishing a few coins from her belt pouch with the other hand and holding her fist out palm-down, ready to release the money into the barkeep's care.
A burly man with a shiny, bald head gladly receives the coins, bouncing them in his broad, shovel-like hands before stating: "After ye' taste tha' ye'll ne're think ta try any other ale! I guarantee ye!" He boasts proudly before turning back and returning to the bar.
Walking slowly across toward the bar, a tall, muscular Human seems about to engage the barman in conversation before suddenly shaking his head and mumbling: "Nay, questions can wait.." He then looks across to the table at which a chestnut-haired Seari woman sits, and speaking in a slightly louder tone he says: "Bring me a pint an' all." He then makes his way toward the table, and addressing a chestnut-haired Seari woman he asks: "Mind if'n I join ye?"
Stepping down the stairs slowly, a short human man enters the common room. He quickly looks around his glance picking out the patrons, the swords lying everywhere and the broken tables.
A chestnut-haired Seari woman smiles at this, saying nothing in return but giving a quiet laugh. She turns back to the table top and stares into her ale as though hoping to divine some secrets from its depths. Her head jerks up at a tall, muscular Human's words and after a moment recognition dawns on her face. "It seems all it took to get your attention was to deprive you of mine. I'll remember that." She grins at him and gestures with the hand not occupied by the tankard for him to be seated as he likes.
After the first glance a short human man seems to see all he needs and continues out of the inn.
"Hmm? What ye mean? Ye wished ta speak wit' me?" a tall, muscular Human asks quizzically as he moves to take the indicated seat. As soon as he's settled into the wooden chair the bar tender arrives with his order, and after the customary exchange of coin for goods, leaves them to speak in peace.
"Not to offend you, but.. no, not particularly. I was just interesting in helping there," a chestnut-haired Seari woman gestures toward the spot the injured lass had occupied so recently, "before. But it seems I wasn't needed or wanted so I kept back." Following a barely perceptible pause she adds, "Your wife?"
"Wife? Nay.. A friend, known 'er since she were knee high to a grass'opper." a tall, muscular Human replies, un-phased by the question, which likely speaks for itself. Lifting the tankard of ale to his lips he drains a healthy amount of the contents before setting it down and wiping the frothy head from his upper lip. "Ye seem familiar to me, now I think on it. Though I canna recall where from."
A chestnut-haired Seari woman is temporarily distracted from the man's response by the sudden realization that her lap has been soaked by her ill-placed cloak. She drapes it over the back of her chair and leans her elbows forward onto the table, a scowl fixed on her lips. The moment her eyes return to the human man, however, they narrow in concentration, his assertion seeming to have awakened a similar suspicion in her. She continues to gaze through contemplative slits as she murmurs distractly, "But surely you were no taller than hip-high at the time yourself.." She seems on the verge of saying something more, but doesn't, instead gnawing her lip and pressing her fingernails absently into the tankard at her hand.
"Aye, well, tall enough ta wield a blade - though, ye don' 'ave ta be tha' tall fer tha' I s'pose." a tall, muscular Human agrees, before draining his tankards of the last of the ale before pushing it aside. "'er family were traders, an' I worked as a caravan guard, tha's 'ow we met." He continues to explain.
A short human man walks into the room. His stride filled with confidence. His quick eyes taking everything in, not missing a thing. His gaze quickly goes from a chestnut-haired Seari woman to a tall, muscular human. After a close inspection of the three he turns his attention to the barkeep, who he advances towards and asks for a small glass of wine.
A short human man buys a small glass of wine, and tasting its rich flavour, smiles in satisfaction. Then finding a table and chair in the corner he sits himself down, back to the wall, so he can keep an eye on everything that goes on.
Lifting his regard from his companion, a chestnut-haired Seari woman, across to a short human man, a tall, muscular Human regards the man quietly from his table, and only after several moments does he offer him a cursory nod.
A short human man eyes a tall, muscular human taking in the armor and weapon at his side his eyes notice the pale face, the white hair, his athletic frame, then he locks his gaze on the turquoise eyes. He silently studies them for a moment. After a silent moment he nods back.
A chestnut-haired Seari woman relaxes her eyelids and arches her brows, evidently impressed by some part of the speech. "One of you then is older or younger than you appear.. but I've never been a great judge of age in pure humans." Her tone is light and conversational despite a look about her eyes that speaks to some thought nagging in the back of her mind. She looks to her drink and after a moment removes her hand from around it and dips a finger idly into the dark liquid. As the tall, muscular Human looks away, she takes the opportunity to study him again, quickly replacing a pleasant smile when she senses his attention shifting back to the table.
Clearing his thoughts a short human man asks a tall, muscular human, 'Excuse me, I have been away for over a year, would you be able to catch me up on what’s been going on?' finished his speech he continues to study the turquoise eyes of a tall, muscular human.
A short human man takes his eyes from a tall, muscular human and rests them on a chestnut-haired Seari woman, his eyes taking in her Elven attributes and finally resting on her viridian eyes. He silently studies them as he did with the human. After a moment he turns his attention back to a tall, muscular human.
Glancing across to a short human man, a tall, muscular Human lofts a brow, apparently finding the question somewhat odd. Never the less he leans back into his seat, crosses his arms over his chest and considers the possible reply. At length he offers: "I guess tha main thin' ye'd 'ave missed is tha' plague.."
A short human man nods silently studying the pair, 'A plague... how many lost?'
"Ye say ye'd been away fer a year, 'ow exactly? Ye been kept by tha mists, er ye just arrived back in tha' town 'fer a spell out in tha' outpost down south?" a tall, muscular Human replies thoughtfully, and then after a few moments he considers the latter question, and narrowing his eyes, and after several moments of obvious mental arithmetic he suggests: "Like as not in the realms o' several 'undred thousan'. Or there abouts."
A short human man continues to observe then pair the speaks, 'I came down with an illness that left me bedridden for over half a year. It took a few months for me to regain my strength and return. That settlement to the south and east is an outpost? look more like a smattering of tents.
Nodding slowly a tall, muscular Human seems to accept this reply from a short human man, before shifting his regard, subtly, toward a chestnut-haired Seari woman, his head cocked one side as he enquires: "Copper fer yer thoughts?"
A short human man finishes his glass, stands up and nodding to the conversing pair, begins to move towards the door.
Posted by ShadowSiege at June 22, 2004 10:55 PM