The Ace Of Spades

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The guards surrounded the young nobleman and began to guide him into the gates of the city, he wanted to stay behind and witness what would happen with the large creature and whether it would go into a rampage - which he had to admit would be mildly fascinating - or go about doing it's job. He supposed he'd never get to witness it as he passed under the portcullis into the port town, his guards sheathing their weapons and falling in behind him. The smell of the city, the noise, and the culture near slapped him in the face as he entered; although he had travelled much before, he had never visited a port town before and the strangeness of it all and the mix of different cultures and countries all in one place intrigued him. The smell of fish mixed with meats, fruits, and perfumes definitely had an interesting scent, not only that, but the constant bustle of the city where he heard a multitude of languages, some of which he knew, others which he partly knew, and most he had no idea.

As they rode deeper into town a guard moved in beside Tryver and began pointing out where to head towards to reach their destination. "Nay," Tryver said casually looking at his guard. "I'm hungry, I think a stop is in order and the men no doubt will not object to being treated. Will you?" He heard his men unanimously agree and he nodded to the guide to find them an tavern. It took them much longer than he had anticipated to find a decent tavern, but when they did - one by the name of Beastly Pristine - they all visibly rested on their wooden chairs with a cup of alcohol in their hands and a plate of exquisite food in front of them. Even if Tryver planned to stay here for less than a day, he wanted it to be a memorable stay as the first time he visited a port city.
 
The bar was definitely the place for Cairo. This place was certainly more classy; relative to the other seedy, shady taverns he's been to; yet still accommodated the hard laborer. He cast his gaze around the tavern looking for an open seat settling on a lone seat at the edge of the bar. He swaggered his way over there in a confident manner. "Something strong if you will." He waited at the bar, resting his head in the thumbs of his hands in an inquisitive look.

"I heard that the Yvetian Islands were completely obliterated. Word spreads fast, but no one really knows what happened." He directed at the bartender. "Some word of it has bound to have come through here, hasn't it?" He didn't mess around and went straight to asking. He was prepared to get the information at any cost. There definitely had to be something to this mysterious disappearance. He downed the strong drink as soon as it had arrived.
 


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The elven male raised his resting head when he sees, from the corner of his eyes, a flicker of a movement. Getting to a knee, he spun around without too much haste to see a white-haired human dressed most peculiarly, but not strangest when it came to a regular warrior's attire, contributing to his lacking assumption of the man. Another traveler here for the enlistment, perhaps...?
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Grabbing his bow, Jakob got to his feet in a manner and from a spot where his approaching figure wouldn't be hard to notice. It was an odd bit of chance to have met on the roofs of a port town, but his boredom has him opt to barter names with this stranger, for a conversation, perhaps. Because if they were like-minded in their goals, which were the Yvetian Isles, then it would make for quite the interesting conversation. If it was otherwise, though, his nature would never let alone a sketchy figure as like this masked man to prowl with ill intentions.
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He knew the city had its fair share of strange men, and even stranger machinations.


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The female bartender watched the wispy-haired man come up to the bar and ordered a drink for himself. She filled a mug with the local favorite and sat down back again just as Cairo began gulping down the drink she'd brought him. The bartender propped her head up with a hand, and stole a glance at the young nobleman with his guards over at another table, ever the rare patron his kind of man is. After a short while, she rested her eyes back on the red-haired man in front of her. "You strike me as a first-timer to Monsha, sweetheart. But not to the seas, I suppose?" she asked Cairo, noticing his slightly-tanned skin, and his sailorman's build. "Well, a word of advice; you may come across a boy in town who'll tell you he knows many things. Can't miss him, what with his pointed hat and caped outfit, and his hair, that's lavender. Don't trust him like the friend he wants to make himself out to be." said the woman. "Now, if you--" she began talking again, but was cut off.
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"Hey...! Lorna~!" a voice called out in a jolly tone from somewhere in the bar.


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The female bartender grunted, shutting her eyes irritatedly and then opening them once she was turned towards the source of the sound, an eye-patched man garbed in armor and cloth, whom was leisurely strutting towards the bar from one corner of the tavern.

"Ya amazes me every time, nightingale." he said, taking a spot beside Cairo and leaning forward. "Those durianthus smoothies back there? Simply ah-mah-zin'!" announced the knight, muffling a belch that dripped with a pungent stench. "Ahh, sorry 'bout that." he apologized, turning from Cairo to the bartender and back multiple times, scratching the back of his head with an apologetic look on his face. "See, I like th' damn thing too much, that one day it'll be th' death of me, drem!"

"You have to keep it down, Brahms. You're a one-man brawl, and I don't even know why I keep letting you in here..." said the bartender, burying her head in her palm.

"Oh, one happy man playing with himself never harmed anyone, don't it now?" Brahms laughed heartily to himself, much to the bartender's chagrin. "Don't worry, ah'm about out, sweets! Jus' make it one pint of Silken Songstress, and I'll be out of yer hair for th' day. Gots to wash down the smeel somehow." Brahms told her, flicking a golden coin onto the wood of the bar. Grumbling to herself, the female bartender went about making his choice mix, as Brahms turned to Cairo and sized him up. "I heard what's it yer wantin' of, good man. The Yevetians, yeah? Tell you what, I've not got with me ah good know-how on it... But ya look th' part, so I'll tell ya, jus' how is it ya can find out for yerself what really happened out there." Brahms looked around with a wary glint in his eyes, and then settled down and turned back to Cairo. "Listen well, now. Only th' men and women of th' best guilds, besides those that're worth a damn to th' government, knows about this. Ya know th' closest piece of land to th' Yevetian Islands? Rachmann Island? If yer were to ask around ta get there, ya'd be outta luck, since apparently the government of our good ol' kingdom, Tourne, has closed th' area off. But in a few days' time..." Brahms warily glanced sideways at the table full of northern guards, pausing for a short while. "...There's going to be an enlistmen' fer capable hands, ta set foot where th' soldiers of Tourne would not." Brahms told Cairo. "Rachmann Island."


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In shock, Mavis stared at Tamlen for a while, soaking up the boy's words. Her mouth was left agape, but it soon shut to a close. The girl's eyes seemed to grow wide before she turned away from Tamlen and hung her head low, eyes downcast. Mavis stood in silence for a while, and though the girl held the brown nut up to her face, not a muscle on her moved. Mavis began to mutter something to herself, and then started to tremble. Mavis began to cry, and her sobs start to attract attention from the crowds of people moving through and from all the four directions of the street junction.

Many of them started to turn furrowed brows towards Tamlen as they walked, the irresponsible youth who'd made the girl cry.

One pair of eyes in particular peered through the crowd and looked towards where the cries came from. A mustached middle-aged knight, his greying hair slicked backwards neatly, waded through the crowds to walk up to the two. But as he came into a few feet from the two, he caught sight of Tamlen. His eyes grew wide, and the enforcer clenched his teeth in anger at the youth's newest handiwork.

"Sarizarrrrrrrrr!" roared the knight as he pushed aside the townsfolk to march up to the little liar.


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The bald (and bold) old farmer inched towards his barong carefully, without an escort save for one of the riders' shield, which he held close to his chest, praying the barong was still the friend he knew. The riders merely watched at his request, keeping their distances. In his free hand, the farmer held a clump of szraine herb, a plant that is known to soothe the towering beasts. Slowly, the farmer held his hand out to touch the barong on the skin of its legs. The barong kept with its erratic, panicked breaths, but the both of them plopped onto the grass shortly afterwards.

The elder barong had knelt on the grass, breathing in the scent of the herb, and it let out a soft whine, showing that it was no longer agitated. The old farmer sighed, relieved, and got back up to his feet, gently rubbing the barong on its leg before he turned back to the riders.

"It's all right, now! The herb has done its work. He's all calmed down, now!" he shouted to the riders, walking up to them and handing one his shield back. "I don't know what happened to him." the farmer told the riders. "It seems he was reminded of something that happened many years ago in these very plains, for some reason. He acted strangely back then, too... It's said that the barong can feel the flow of mana in the planet, after all..." continued the farmer, standing akimbo as he looked over to the elder barong, which once again seemed at peace. A worry still hung over the farmer's shoulders as he turned back to the riders, a half-smile strewn across his face.


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The woman clad in armor walked quickly down the street, a number of armored men following behind her, each and every one of them headed towards where the smoke had flooded a street.

Arriving at the spot, Captain Jura silently inspects the white smoke and raised her arm to the side, motioning for her subordinates to stay back. Stepping into the middle of the street, the captain struck the pavement with the end of her sword's scabbard and drew a crescent on the pavement, which has been lightly tainted white by the smoke.

Cutting through the crescent were three lines, that jut out like the marks of a claw. Finally, she drew waves beneath the crescent, and the lightning above it, fast, single strokes with the scabbards of her two swords. Just as she finished, bluish light began to pour into the symbol, and soon freezing winds began to build around the blade of one of her swords, and immense heat began to radiate off the other. Jura put her two swords together, creating an instability in the small gap between the blades. The energy being built up caused her hands to tremble slightly, but the captain endured.

As soon as she felt the magic in her blades enough to end the fog, she held the swords up, both tips aimed at the white smoke. The captain pulled apart the two swords, each to one side, and the air where the swords had been a moment ago began collapsing inwards, the small wind hole sucking in all the smoke in a mere few seconds before disappearing.

The street finally clear, Captain Jura cast her gaze upon a human lad with spiky blond hair and a young drow woman with brown hair, whom were standing closest to where she and the rest of her enforcers stood. Without the need for an order, the knights under her command flocked past her and to those who'd been sent tumbling down in the short period of discord brought about by the white smoke, vigilant for any injuries that needed to be have looked at quickly.

Two of them helped the beast-kin man that Hess had been supporting back to his feet. Hess muttered a word of thanks, and turned to see that the white-haired woman was now standing closer. There was a slight jerking of his shoulders when the woman raised an eyebrow at the shovel on his back.
 
As if space itself had been rent open to suck up the mist of fading white, Saint blinked in pure amazement watching the entirety of it just up and disappear revealing nothing more than armored bodies and a single woman amongst the throng of them all. Swords in hand seemingly null and void to the moment perhaps, the clatter of metal on metal began to lift and prop fallen bodies back to their feet.

Feeling the momentary prick of disgruntle annoyance that this whole scene had arrived, she was secretly hoping the blame wouldn't be handed out onto her shoulders and that of the human male that was really nothing more than a causality of a run in. It was childish not to want any sense of responsibility held to her shoulders but that was to be mortal. If one could avoid it, one would.

Glancing side through her peripheral when the woman of armor came closer, her brows drew into a neat line upon her brow cautious of the situation. She had always held a sort of love hate relationship with the men and women in the guard detail. They were fantastic patrons for a blacksmith but picky as all sin about ever minor detail that went into their armor, into their weapons and half the time it left the smith far more frustrated than blissful.

The flats of her palms came to rest on the exposed flesh of her hips, azure gems slowly turning fully to take full consideration of woman before she made the quickest of glimpses towards the boy whom was receiving an eyebrow raise from the woman. A few comments rifled through a silent mind before Saint decided that she might as well break the moment before some foul cursing began, or finger pointing. "Thank you milady for all your help." Proper etiquette would not hurt and she knew it, Saint followed up with a respectable tip of her chin to implore the words of her tongue previously used.
 
Krune shifted slightly when he saw a figure. Great, he had been seen by someone. By the looks of it, a elf too. He glared at the male, but it was hidden well by his mask. He stopped and calmly took his mask off to reveal his face. Krune turned towards him, looking over what he had. He wasn't going to run off, that would be rude and a bit too late now. Anyway,if this elf had information on the Yvetian Isles or anything similar, it would be a great boost to what information Krune already has. Thinking of this, he smiled a tiny bit and starred making his way towards the elf, a slight beat in his steps.

As he made his way over, he began to think. If he had the same goals as himself, then he would most likely adventure with him. He'd really have to make a good impression for their first meeting, but he couldn't really stop himself from being anti-social. It's the way he did things. And meeting on the roofs of a town of all places did seem a bit sketchy. It's better than meeting in the sewers, for definite, but still, it did seem out of the ordinary. Well, it couldn't hurt to make acquaintances with the elf, right?
 
Monsha loomed ahead, an active and massive stature whose presence seemed to beckon the caravan to proceed. T'was the prospect of the last stretch towards the destination, perhaps; it wasn't exactly uncanny. The hunters, mercenaries and loyal guardsmen all regrouped in some vague formation surrounding and trailing the lord at the head of the pack. Among them, Gallan eyed the figures from before, the turbaned impostor and the secretive 'knight' (who seemed to be handling slightly better). Those individuals in particular seemed to stand out from the unique unanimity of the other sellswords. Worth keeping an eye out for in the city, if they intended to stay in the lord's indirect company.

Entrance was a small delay at the gate, quickly dismissed by a firm report from the lord himself. The checkpoint allowed the caravan passage with semi-cautious looks at the mixed mercenaries of the party, with any number of questions in mind. Gallan dismissed any thoughts of the city guards' inquiries, thinking back to the elder barong and its unnerve at some unknown influence. There was... some feeling of the unnatural, the wildman had sensed. He couldn't discern it, but the creep of it had scuttled in his lycan blood, prompting an instinct to rear back, to stave off the opposition; but nothing had been there.

Rather, the bowman let the sights and smells of the merchants' marketing take him in. It was always quite overwhelming, this environment, that just rang out as... human. Not unnatural, per se, but the result of a spirit of civilization and industrialism that tended to evade Gallan's understanding. It was a reminder that he wasn't completely human, an impossible half-breed lost in life. He'd had his share of being an animal, but being a human among this level of advancement of society seemed simply difficult.

As they navigated the city's streets, Gallan felt a familiar sense of going nowhere. He could tell there was a form of doubt and question among the other men (the lady's was not discernible), and some internal conflict in direction with the guards. Finally, the rest of the group seemed to slow into a settle around a more 'traditional' wooded building, and Gallan craned his neck to observe it: Beastly Pristine

It was a tavern, that's was it was, Gallan finally finding the word as he sat as an odd one out among the many tables of contenting, chatty voices. The bowman had lost track of the key people of the party, and now resorted to listening in on the conversations that filled the building to bursting. Part of being a lycan was indeed the wild senses, the extra-humane talents of vision, sound and aromatics. Every stray scent, every errant sound was magnified for him, and when Gallan wasn't keen for talking he became almost eager to eavedrop on all of the information his mind could handle, rumors to smells to movements.

There was much ado going on about the Yvetian Isles, whatever those were. Gallan had, before, heard supposed rumors of outlying landmasses beyond the continent, but he hadn't heard of any names or details to this degree. And perhaps he would never get the opportunity to explore those isles, either: supposedly, the Yvetian islands had disappeared entirely, or so people said. There were many different expressions of disbelief, from shock to denial, and from there speculations on what happened. It seemed like nobody who told the story had any proof or justification beyond the fact that the isles were just abruptly gone, and that nobody's going over there even if they wanted to.

One set of details seemed to snag at Gallan, in the form of a rather brutish human up on a barstool, mumbling supposedly valuable words to the fellow next door. The way he seemed to shift and glance seemed to spell out secrecy, the wildman determined, and with a vague lean in their direction, Gallan focused his senses on the conversation...

"...good ol' kingdom, Tourne, has closed th' area off. But in a few days' time..." Another wave of cautious looking, particularly at the now-boisterous guards, and then back to talking, "...There's going to be an enlistmen' fer capable hands, ta set foot where th' soldiers of Tourne would not. Rachmann Island."

Good to know. Gallan made a mental note to find a sea map and learn to read it. Not that there was surefire plans to go out to ocean anytime soon, but if he did, it would be good to know where he was headed... and what the governing minds didn't want people to pry at.
 
By the sidelong glances and wary looks on the man's face he could tell that this is information best kept under wraps. Heavens knows how many shady meetings he's had before. He hunched over, leaning in closer so they could talk in lower voices. He spoke in a drunken slur and a heavy accent, but Cairo managed to pick apart the words he needed to know. It was all he needed to know.

"Rachmann Island..." He turned the name over and over in his head. He's heard of the place, but not the closure of the island. And a government looking for able bodies to investigate the island. It was extremely suspicious. No question about how they didn't want people to hear about it. Something big has to be going down there.

One thing still remains suspicious: how did he come across this information. He has to be a member of the few world-renowned guilds. Or he could very well be lying. He may not have been the man the bartender described, but surely there were more like him out there. Still, if this thing turns out to be true, he's found a gold mine. He concealed a smirk, but inside he was ecstatic knowing that his journey to Monsha had not been a waste. Then again, there was still a few day's rest before they begin calling for bodies and the info was word of mouth, so there's no 100 percent guarantee of authenticity. He'll do some more digging with the lead.

"Thanks for the tip." He dug into his pocket pulling out gold coins from his wage on the Silver Day. "Buy yourself another round." He placed the coins on the bar. "You have rooms here, right," He asked the bartender when she came to deliver the man's drink. "Turns out this I'm going to stay here a while and I'll need a room." He dug around in his coat for more coins estimating the amount for a room. "That seems about right."

He took one more look around the bar, checking to see if any of the guards departed or if anyone was eavesdropping. Sure enough, a guard or two left, but some still remained. Nothing to be worried about. A couple new patrons came in and a few patrons left. Most notable however, was a rough archer among the tables. He wondered what someone like him would be doing in the city. Unfortunately, he stared at him for too long, as his eyes met his. Cairo tried to play it off, turning back around slowly and nonchalantly, but they both knew he was looking suspicious.
 
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Tamlen's smile began to fall as the girl before him began to break down. He hadn't got that response yet. Most just dismissed him, or seemed surprised. He hadn't been prepared for if his lie made a girl cry. He looked back and forth as he noticed people starting to give him looks. Tamlen returned his attention to Mavis. "Woah, hey. Um...it was just a rumor. No need to think the world's about the end. Well...it might be...but that's beside the point. Come on, don't cry." Tamlen rubbed the back of his head, unsure of how else to help the girl. He couldn't tell if this was worse than when he'd lied to his ma or not.

Eventually, a voice roaring through the crowd brought Tamlen's attention away from the girl. "Uh oh." Tamlen caught sight of a very familiar knight coming his way, and he felt his body instinctively attempt to run away. However, try as he might, Tamlen just couldn't bring himself to leave the bawling Mavis behind. Tamlen lightly dug his feet into the ground as the knight finally reached him. "Oh hey! Horrible weather we're having, am I right?" Even in this situation, Tamlen couldn't keep himself from lying through his teeth.
 

"You're what's horrible, you lying rat!" the knight snapped at Tamlen, resisting the urge to whack the boy a good once on the head. Passing a hand upon the hilt of his sword once to make sure its place, the man pocketed his arms into a fold instead, as though they needed some anchoring in case he blew his top. "I've been hearing from the townsfolk that you're still at it! Spreading word about a runaway Eidolon!" the knight flashed a glance at the girl, whose sobbing had grown softer, and at the sight of her his expression mellowed as he turned back to the bespectacled youth. "Spreading lies can be dangerous, Tamlen! The times of now have been of doubt and uncertainty, and we already have enough fodder for public unrest from all manner of idiots outside these walls. What is it that you hope to achieve by joining their ranks?" the knight asked, his voice strong enough to be clearly heard by Mavis. He'd decided then that he needed to address them both in his own way, one with snippets of scorn and the other with bits of bravery.

It wasn't common for some people to feel at unease with what has happened to the Yvetian Isles, especially with the memories of the Eidolon Wars still lingering about. But this girl seemed to be of the more fragile sort, and she would be needing some indirect reassuring. A lecture was coming, oh yes. Arthur threw back his head slightly and planted his fists on his hips, eying the sailorman's child for an answer.


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"Ah, yer too kind, friend." Brahms spoke to Cairo, narrowing his eyes as a mild feeling of surprise went on its way to oblivion. Now he knew his eyes didn't deceive him, and the red-haired man no mere scum. Brahms decided that he was worthy of knowing further. "But ah'm in need of only one drink another. Thank ye very much, Lorna." the man rejected Cairo's offering and grabbed his own drink out of the female bartender's hands. Brahms strolled towards the entrance, yet keeping close to the bar the entire while. Moments later, an arm passed above the bar and a hand placed the glass on top of it, already empty. The knight let out a refreshed sigh and stood by the door. "That vermin problem of ye can be a peshky nuisands. I suggest ye head to the enforcer's base here in Monsha an' ask about it, yeah?" Brahms spoke out to Cairo, the first sentence spoken in a voice for all to hear, but the eye-patched man turned around to look at Cairo as he uttered the second, and his voice seemed to be that of a tone that harbored a measure of an advice. Or perhaps a clue. "Try not ta get too drunk, a'ight friend?"

With a grin, Brahms saluted both persons at the bar farewell and teetered out the door, into the bright streets outside.The female bartender shook her head at him leaving the building, but there was the faintest signs of a smile at the edge of her lips. That Brahms had to be a strange man amongst the strangest men; she wondered what it was he'd told the other traveler.

"I'm sorry if he'd managed to put you off, sweetheart. He has... a lot of ways of going about such a feat." the female bartender said to Cairo, picking up the empty glass. "We have plenty of room for another fellow, yes. I... Hmm." she looked around the tavern a bit, before resting her eyes back on Cairo. "We'll have it ready in a while." she assured Cairo, after a few moments of thinking. The female bartender wondered where the girl had gone to this time.


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"So..." Jakob eyed the man, now standing only a few feet from him. The make of the rooftops were not all even, but here was still plenty of safe ground to tread. "Meeting on the rooftops. That's one for the books, wouldn't you say?" said the elf, jokingly. "Not to impose, but I'm known for being meddlesome. I was sort of wondering what is it you have in mind, scouring above the streets like this. To be fair, I'd suppose you could ask me the same thing. I've been resting. And shooting down a few gulls and then some. And reading." the elf went over his words again, his eyes elsewhere for a moment before he turned back to Krune.

"Living high above ground has been a large part of my life." said Jakob matter-of-factly, as if he was no stranger to the swordsman, whose sword did make him rethink his approach slightly. "I talk a lot, don't I. I suppose it's fair you get your turn. The name's Jai'kyrios Ouvarn. But call me Jakob." Jakob flashed a smile at the man, extending an arm. The friendly air was by half a facade, and though it was a thing for the youth to deem others with respect, it was also in his nature to be careful and calculative. All the while, the other hand kept the bow at ready, a precaution.


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Captain Jura looked over to the drow girl who had thanked her, and in the first few moments her face differed not from when she'd passed scrutinizing looks over at Hess and his overall figure. However, the white-haired woman broke out into a small smile, unexpectedly. Nodding, she spoke, once a glance in line to make sure her charges were, themselves. Up and about, tending to the townsfolk. Jura surveyed the area, looking for anything out of place besides the people knocked off their feet. She sought to join her subordinates after that, but turned to the drow first.

"No need to be so formal, now. We're just going about our responsibility. Now..." Jura paused, the minor thought that she'd just spoken 'now' twice passing her mind. There was a slight irritation, but it didn't poke at her enough for her to be able to brush off the fact that she feels as though Hess looks familiar to her. "Thank you for your help." said Jura to the two, not forgetting how she'd first seen them once the smoke cleared. "I have only one question in mind, but before that, would you two require anything else? I hope your injuries were not too terrible." Jura asked, walking past them, but having turned to the two as she spoke. Once again, Hess saw the strange look given to him by the captain. He knew why she did so, but Hess was not to keen on expanding on the matter any further, and kept silent. He wondered what her question was, looking over at Saint to see how she'd act next.
 
No need to be formal, but always a better option to do so less she offend someone without trying. Just better safe than sorry.

Perching her hands to find the resting place of her hips watching the woman of a white crown with an acute diligence that was often bought or well deserved; Saint turned to briefly take a peek across her shoulder towards that of the throng of bodies having been attended too appropriately and far more effective than her and the human lad could have ever done. Though she was a little surprised to be thanked by the woman not that she would be complaining about it any time soon.

Rather the tapered ears upon the sides of her own crown quirked paying ready attention to the armored woman that apparently had one question but didn't offer it up quite as readily as it seemed. No, it seemed she was throwing her gaze all across the human lad with an intent that appeared as if she was trying to recall a memory from the deepest reaches of her mind. Just not quite sure whether it was worth it or not. Or Saint was over reading the situation.

She might have said something, but they were asked by the very woman if they were needing anything else and honestly, Saint felt a bit of a smirk touch her graces. "Naw, I am peachy keen myself, can't speak for the lad though." Catching his own gaze glancing over to her own, the drow half breed opted for a bright full grin with a gentle laugh accompanying it.
 
"Lies Mr. Arthur? You wound me. Rumors really. Rumors that I got from a sailor that works for my pa. I was merely informing the masses of the possibilities that lay on the horizon." Tamlen swept his arm towards the ocean. The boy gave his most innocent smile, one that could fool almost anyone. However, the knight most certainly would see the glimmer of deceit behind the boy's eyes. All citizens of Monsha could see it. After a few moments, Tamlen gave a sigh of defeat. "Alright, alright. So what will my punishment be this time?" Tamlen gave Mavis a glance and smirked. In an instant, his face shifted. He pouted his lips slightly and his brows furrowed. His body shrunk slightly as he looked up at Arthur. "Please don't whip me again. You know I bruise easily. Not to mention your strong lashings make me question my sexuality." Tamlen continued to look at the knight pitifully, all the while laughing on the inside. He hoped he could get a good reaction, if not from the knight, then at least from the girl.
 
Krune stared at Jakob questionably before taking his time to hake hands with him, as a former way of gratitude. "Nice to meet you, Jakob.....I suppose I should tell you a bit about myself along with my name, correct?" He sighed before continuing his speech. " I'm Krune...Krune Vontel, to be specific. I don't have anything that I'm currently doing I guess.....I'm just up here because I found the streets to twisted and tangled to adventure in...Plus the fact it's way too crowded down there...." He frowned a bit as he said this, glancing down at the streets below.

"I'm not that familiar with the rooftops, considering I spend most my time practicing my sword skills...Often too caught up to familiarize myself with roofs and that..." Krune chuckles a bit at that, staring at Jakob for a while before turning his head away, perhaps a slight bit embarrassed. He then rather suddenly turns his head back, looking him up and down at a hasty pace. He then realized that he'd actually talked to someone, feeling the tinge of being proud in ones self and smiled slightly. "I wouldn't attack a archer in a place like this, mind you, so you can relax for now....I'm not one to attack everyone I meet, too, so I'm at least a bit trustworthy...." Krune smiles at Jakob as he says this. It's a small smile, but it still counts.
 
Life stirred in the elf's eyes at the man's mention of his name, but they remained narrowed lazily nonetheless. Krune Vontel. The demonic assassin, was he now? Suppose the attire should've given it away, but him having seen distant lands and all its people made him one that wasn't quick to note others for judgment. But there was a light of disbelief in his eyes, one that only grew more vivid as the assassin spoke.

Obviously, he sounded nothing like a taker of life, his claws aside. "I guess that means I'll be able to sleep tonight without any bit of worry, then." joked Jakob, shifting slightly where he stood. He passed a glance at the streets below, as if silently agreeing with Krune, but turned to look over his shoulder when he noticed at the corner of his eyes, a pillar of white smoke rising into the skies. "Huh, wonder what could've made that. Someone selling a varga in the bazaars, maybe? Now that's exotic." Jakob turned back to Krune, mentioning the volcanic animal that was actually relatively obscure to most, if not for personal experience. It still was the reason for seeing pillars of smoke in the distance whenever one was traveling through Bastion, though.


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Arthur curled into an angry man, Tamlen's words having struck an unpleasant chord in him. This kid can't be serious! thought the enforcer, aghast at the severe lack of chivalry in the boy. I wasn't expecting this....!

"Why you little...!" Arthur's hands began to choke an imaginary neck, all glares at the little liar and his tales (which weren't true, mind you). But when the thought of the girl and of his duty clung to mind, Arthur picked himself up, but only barely. The urge to smack the side of his gauntlet against the hair on Tamlen's head poked at his ribs again, but the old knight brushed it off. "Ahem." Arthur sent two fingers running across the mustache on his face, fearing it may have come unkempt at his agitation. "It's a terrible thing, isn't it then? Seems I didn't whip you strong enough to leave any marks!" said the knight rather sinisterly, not realizing that he'd been unwittingly pulled into Tamlen's game in the end. Maybe he'd thought the line sounded as witty as it did in his head? "I know what you hate the most, boy. Oh yes." grinned Arthur. In the eyes of many a passer-by, it looked like he was the villain of their story. "It is part of my duty as an enforcer, to dispense justice! And for that, Tamlen my boy, I will--" Arthur reached for something at his waist, hidden by his arm and cape.

Mavis let out a silent gasp. There was a small crunching sound, faint but perhaps not dismissible to Tamlen. Then the girl let out a sound that caught Arthur off-guard.

Mavis burst into a laughing fit, one modest enough not to be mistaken as a demonic possession. Brushing her hair to one side, the girl's laughter died down a tone, and she rubbed the tears away with the sleeve of her coat. Then she turned towards the two guys with a small smile on her face, a face faintly red. Before anyone else could speak, though, she punched Tamlen on his shoulder softly, almost playfully. Arthur could only stare in surprise, jaw agape and frozen in his pose.


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Regene glanced into the bar right after an eye-patched man left. She stood with her back against the building, arms built into a wall along her chest plate. To everyone else, it seemed like she was a dangerous person to cross. The truth of it all, however, is that she merely had no idea of how to proceed next. The instructions were clear; stay close to the young lord as he traveled in order to be safe somewhat, but how was she supposed to appear as trustworthy to Tryver as was his guards? Will he travel to the Yvetians alone? Will he be meeting with the enforcers for the sign-ups? The details eluded her; she was sent out too hastily. Some of the riders seemed to have dispersed when they entered the city, and Regene turned the frightening helm from side to side, though she wasn't only keeping an eye out for the other riders. Apparently, she would find an ally in the city. But whom, exactly? On a whim, the armored figure glanced into the Beastly Pristine yet again, her attention caught yet again by two figures in it, the young lord and the archer.

Then, she sees a barmaid approaching the young lord rather shyly, and all the estranged, wary looks flung her way by the guards at first.


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Hess froze for a moment when Saint displayed her fangs in an apparently mirthful and harmless grin. The laugh only sounded stranger to him. Well, she's a jolly one, thought the youth. But he was snapped out of his daze when the female knight called out to him with a simple 'hey'.

"Feeling alright? You face seemed slightly on the pale side, just now." Jura asked Hess, a funny look of bewilderment on her face, one apparently to match his own just minutes ago. Hess quickly turned to face the female knight and nodded. He hesitated a bit by the time he hung his head low.

"I'm perfectly fine. Peachy, squishy, yeah." said Hess, ruffling his hair. His face steeled into a soft scowl, but one that was more careful than scornful, as he raised his head again and "You said there was supposed to be a single question before we could leave. Well, shoot." Hess told her. The woman frowned herself, feeling that the young man was being oddly and unnecessarily defensive. Was there something he was trying to hide? She'd inquire further if she could, but felt that it was merely her sense of pride that had left her with a feeling of dislike. She wanted to join her subordinates quickly, so she spoke, straight to the point as was asked of her.

"Pickpocket, golden hair, girl. Seen her?"
 
As Gallan finally got his bearing and left his pay to the tavern, he flung one last sideglance at the bear where the rumoring pair had sat, only to intercept a stare his way himself. Now would definitely be a good time to leave, if what little he had for cover was blown. Carefully dodging through the commotion of the barhouse to exit, if only momentarily, a majority of the soldiers' talk was silenced and directed towards the door. That bulky, imposing suit of armor from before had walked in, seeming to be looking in the general direction of the lord of the group. There seemed to hang a sort of awkward silence among the caravan travelers, as if nobody was quite sure what to say or do.

Gallan, after stopping for a moment, continued moving, eventually ducking under the knight's heavy-plate to go out the tavern's main entrance. As the ranger stood back-to-back behind the huge armor, he looked over his shoulder and knocked of the back of the chestplate. "I wish to talk with you. Away from prying eyes," Gallan regarded to the character beneath the suit as best as he could do inconspicuously. Moving aside the tavern, the wildman motioned towards one of the side alleys, behind where the caravan's horses stood in idle whinnies.
 
Krune soon saw the slight tint of disbelief in the elf's eyes and turned when he had mentioned something about a varga. He chuckled slightly, mostly bing muffled by his hand shielding his mouth. "Very.....But that'd be rare, wouldn't it? Especially in a city mostly surrounded with water....You're lucky I'm making an effort to talk to you. With most others, I shake them off after a couple of minutes....." He whispered in a bit of a harsh tone, but only one that Jakob could hear. Soon, Krune got an idea and grinned, turning back to Jakob. "Want to go explore it? I mean, who wouldn't want to?" Krune rather childishly said.

Krune's posture shifted slightly, so he was ready to run. He smiled and slightly bounced in excitement, pacing around Jakob. "Come on~ It'll be fun!" He grinned once again. Soon after, he realized what he had said to the elf and gasped in surprise, turning away, slightly flustered. He soon regained his original posture and sighed, covering his still blushing face. He coughed and waited patiently for a reply.
 
Tamlen couldn't keep the charade up for long. As soon as the knight spoke, Tamlen's pouting lips curled into a mischievous smile. Yes, these were the moments he lived for, the moments that rewarded his misdeeds. This fun event never would have come up if Tamlen had been the well-behaved man the town wished he was. However, Tamlen's mouth slowly fell as Arthur stated that he knew Tamlen's weakness. Tamlen crossed his arms and looked at the knight with an eyebrow cocked. Hmm...could he really have the knowledge he claims to possess? Tamlen pondered on this as the older man continued to speak. The young liar wasn't perfect. There were quite a few things that could get to him, especially his mother. He had been punched by the townspeople before, but no one could throw punch like his ma. Which honestly enough surprised the boy considering how small his mother was compared to the usual people who beat him.

As the knight reached behind his back for something, Tamlen heard a faint knows. He couldn't figure out what it was, but soon after Mavis began to laugh. Tamlen jumped slightly and turned his attention to the girl. He scratched his cheek lightly, a little habit he found himself doing when completely baffled. What is she laughing at? Mr. Arthur made his comment ages ago. Did she crack? Did I break her? As Tamlen continued to contemplate the situation, Mavis punched his shoulder. It seemed to be playful, but it had a little more power behind it than he was expecting. Tamlen subconsciously rubbed his arm as he stared at the smiling girl. No, seriously, did I break her? Tamlen stole a glance at Arthur, who seemed to be just as flabbergasted as he was. Tamlen finally spoke with a light smirk on his lips and a raised eyebrow. "So...um...we good?" The young man wasn't sure whether or not he cared if she was liked him, but he figured it was better to have her happy than sad. Tears were definitely one of his weaknesses.
 
Watching the minor interaction between that of the lad and the woman of armor, Saint gave a light smirk as he responded with a peculiar sort of answer. Who was squishy? Who'd willingly say they were squishy above that.

But he seemed to sense her own thoughts daring to ask the woman about the question she had wanted to ask.

Then it came out.

"Ah-" Saint crossed her arms beneath the rise of her bosom. "Little brat just nabbed my wallet, not even a bit ago. Threw some smoke bombs as you can see-" a mild gesture to the now clean air, "And went darting along. So yeah, I have had the misfortune of seeing her."
 
With a room secured, Cairo stood up from his bar stool and turned to head out the door. Blocking the doorway was a figure clad in heavy plate armor, imposing a heavy presence. Any attempts he made at moving were halted at the sight of the iron clad woman. He quickly regained his composure and began to exit the Beastly Pristine. He would come back to it shortly, maybe when night fell. But in the meantime, he had a recruitment center to visit.

On his way out, he gave a passing glance to the nobleman. He looked somewhat pampered and definitely out of place in the bustling port town. He briefly wondered what someone such as him could be doing in such a rough town. He never really associated much with nobility and had a minor disliking toward them. They lived the cushy life in their extravagant homes. He didn't need any of that. Either way, it didn't matter.

He managed to slip by the archer, who slipped out when he wasn't looking, and the suit of armor without much trouble. Upon exiting, he could see that the guards have shown up in the marketplace. Response to the smoke bombs, no doubt. It was bound to have caused some scare in the victims. Speaking of which, it seemed to be a drow and a young human. The guards seem to be riled up by this disturbance, but he didn't mean to meddle.
 
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