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Throughout Port Neworth the tolling of the church’s bell can be heard as it signals the end of the honest man’s work day and ushered on the evening activities of the seaside city. Many take to their homes after working a long day at the harbor or working a long day of patrol against fhe dangers of the mist. Still, for some of the city, their work was just getting started. The changing of the guard had tired men grumbling down the streets, wishing more for a frothy one than another nippy autumn night. The lamplighter makes his way down the streets, a minor mage still in his first youth. With a snap of his fingers, the oil lamps in their glass houses flicker to life. All the while, the drunkards, scum and sailors all made their way to their favorite establishments.

The Bilgerat Bride never boasted to be much of something to look at, much like the woman it was duly named after. Its ramshackle exterior was washed with salt from the nearby ocean and showed signs of neglect hear and there. A few window panels are missing and quite noticeably not a single shutter matches in style nor color. The door creaks in such a high pitched manner that if such a thing could be vexed by your entrance, it is quite making it known. As if its rough charm were not bad enough, the first step into the bar is an unexpected step up that catches many newcomers offguard and proves quite the lark for the other patrons.

If making it beyond the threshold, most will find it’s interior is in a little better repair. The floor is well sanded and someone only catches on the rarest of nail. Most of the tables are full with people of people seated upon kegs that have been cut in half. The boisterous crowd shout and sing and every so often make their way upstairs to the inn rooms. The area that seems most open is the only one with chairs and appears like the tables might be washed. There it appears the pretty servers, the clientele with affluence and those will coin do their business. Anyone seems capable of walking into these area, save for a red haired boy with an up-turned nose and enough freckles to look like his mum shoved his face in dirt and called him good. He looks barely more than fifteen and his eyes are following anything with just the right curves.

Chatter seems more than alive in the air and anyone could pick up on snippets of conversation as they walked through:

“They say there’s been word of another Dreamer. Coulda sworn it was dyin’ down.”
“Who do you s’pose it was?”
“I don’t know how much stock I put innit, but Ole Antaine says it was the Ard Ri’s son.”
“Ah, well if tha’ devil said it, must be true. Wonder who is next in line.”

“Hey Davy. Here alone again? Where’s Art, eh? He finally manage to bag some wench prettier than your mug?”
“Bloody sod off you chafed bilge!”
“Oi! Davy, I jest. What’s happened?”
“Artie’s wagon done got taken by the mist is wot. The rest o’ his crew, wot was left o’ it, got back t’day a bloody mess.”

The din takes an unnatural hush as a woman wrapped in robes and hood steps in, an invisible tension fills the air but the flow of conversation returns to normal as if nothing had happened.

The barkeep does not seem to notice as he pretends to clean a mug with a dirty rag. He does not appear to be noticing much of anything as a halfling with long brown hair tied back and wearing a loose doublet takes advantage of the eyes following her movements to slip a hand into loose coinpurse. Instead, as another order comes in and he fills it, before contending with the customer that what was floating in the brew was in fact part of the special, the woman moves to the sanctioned off area.

The red haired boy straightens up as he catches someone moving closer out of his periphery and attempts to straighten his hair with a hand that had just been holding a meat pie. The grease slicked fingers only serve to make his hair stand more on end. He muffles without any manners about the gob of food still in his mouth, “Entrensh fee, miff.”

The woman stands there, confused before stating, “But I’m to be expecting someone.”

The boy swallows the bite before lightly thumping his chest to summon a belch before wiping the crumb from his mouth, “Yeah, and I’m sure he pays well enough to Recumben...Recompten… Pay you back.”

“I don’t have anything to pay you with.”

The boy gets a mischievous smile before shaking his head, “You’re pretty, but can’t let you in for nothing. Do you have something I can borrow til my friend gets here?” She looks over her shoulder before withdrawing something subtly from her satchel and displaying it privately to the young guard. He jumps back with alarm as she quickly puts it back in her backpack, “By the Six! No, I won’t even touch that.” He looks worriedly between the woman and the rests of the woman before none too gently shunting her into private area and directing to a far back booth. “Get your arse back there.”

Anesha - Anesha finds that someone her inappropriately in all the confusion. From what she could tell, it was either a one-eyed woman with fewer teeth than she has fingers, and she'd lost a few of those too--or it was a pudgy hunter with the pelts of several kills hanging from his belt and a splintering bow on his back.
Surak - As Surak makes his way into the bar, he attracts the attention of the barkeeps elder mother, who makes crude advances upon him and promises a good time. It becomes apparent that the old dog might actually know a few tricks as a couple onlookers grow jealous of her attentions to the young mercenary.
Nasika - CEASE THERE CITIZEN! You were held up by the local guard! They insist you must have been up to no good and demand to know your business in Port Neworth. They inspect you over, and some even speculate that you might have stolen your gemstones from a nobleman. However, they let you on your way, after assuring you they will be having an eye out on you for the length of your stay in the city.
Salius - Turns out one of the tavern patrons was in a caravan you had helped protect recently and you were personally responsible for saving their life. She buys you a drink from the top shelf and expresses her gratitude.
Crela - The inkeeper notices your bow and makes comment you must be some hunter. He points to his Raizhog head mounted up above your head with a smirk and tells you he killed it himself. You can tell he's bluffing, though. Whether or not he'd be keen on your pointing that out would be another story.
Erylis - She finds herself being asked to brew a potion to cure baldness by a woman in an obvious wig. She is terribly touchy about the subject of her hair, however, and should anyone suggest the potion is for her or that her bad wig is in fact fake, she will throw a fit and storm off without paying or the potion.
Akade - WINTER'S WRATH! Your name preceeds you! As you come to the Bilgerat Bride, people begin to whisper, aghast that someone so famous would come to such a place. In fact, many of them soon begin to clamour to talk to you, surprised that such a small feminine thing could be so powerful. Some of the women tease that you're a damned sight prettier than they are while many of the men line up, trying to get you to arm wrestle them at a table.
James Brown - HOW THE FRACK DID YOU GET INTO TOWN?! Somehow, you managed to make it into town... Not just to the outskirts, but straight into the heart of it, before anyone noticed. The poor soul who finally noticed you nearly died on the spot when they did. However, seeing how he thought you were a demon come to visit him and steal his soul, he wasn't about to try and force you to go and do anything. After all, wouldn't you just kill him on the spot? Instead, he tried to appease you by running off and trying to find a more appatizing mortal... Like his younger sister.
Deekin - Entering the Bilgerat, you notice that the bouncer was about to come and have words with you about bringing Zane in. It seems that with a quick glance at the sabertooth's... saberteeth, he quickly thought otherwise of it and simply let you be. However, none of the serving girls have come by to offer you anything and everyone seems to be offering you as wide a berth as the busy inn can afford.
Lyrman - After performing at the Bilgerat for a few nights running, you've come to know a few of the normal clientele by name and some of the servers quite intimately. Luckily, things have not even gone south! The coins seem to be flowing a little more smoothly tonight, or perhaps that is the grog. Either way, they seem to have a nice enough disposition towards you.
Otel - FORSOOTH, FAIR MAIDEN, I AM YOUR HERO, you have captured the attentions of a rich noble with your performance tonight! He is entanced with your movements, taken with your grace, and utterly speechless that you travel with that rogue Lyrman! While he is in the Baelmyst doing business, trying to secure a contract for their wood to build ships and send furs and exotic meats, he is actually from Enruba. He wishes to take you back to be his eternal bride, in a more civilized land, where you will never want for anything. He is quite insistant upon it, and if you would just wait, he will go to the jewellers in town this very instant and find the finest ring to have upon your finger, who cares if they are open, they will open for him!
Neriah - You make it to the Bilgerat and you manage to find the tracker that you have heard so much about. However, it just so happens to be peg-legged ratman who has had one eye scratched out and the other clouded over with cataracts. He's in the corner, hand fumbling for a cheese sandwich on the table. It doesn't look very promising that he would be able to teach you. He might have a few tricks, but maybe someone else?
Blaine - On your way into the Bilgerat, a child comes up to you and Ranger, while he is still in his horse form and exclaims how he is such a pretty pony and tries to pet him. As Ranger changes into a hawk and goes soaring, though, the child shrieks and goes running for their home. The parents have nothing to say but to shake their fist at you and curse, "WIIIIZAAAAARDS!" as the little girl clutches to their pants and sobs, obviously traumatized.
Jorrosa - YOU'VE GOT A FRIEND IN ME, as Jorrosa makes his way in with a caravan of weary mages clear from Vossheim, skirting the deepest parts of the Baelmyst and to Port Neworth, they promise his protection through the long journey will not be forgotten. They bestow upon him an amulet that bears the sigil of their magi association, so that he might show it and let others know of his deeds.
Aliquipiso - During your stay within the Bilgerat, everyone that comes near you appears to grimace and turn up their nose. Some go so far as to mutter comments, "Do you smell wet dog?" Some of the sharper nosed individuals, you notice, are moving further and further away from you, whether they noticed it is you or not.


Bilgerat Bride: James Brown: Guest Appearance "A Strange Boy" - Collab with Temp.

James had come into town without any trouble, simply walking in with a smile on his lips and Rover walking loyally at his hip, he patted the faithful hound on one of its heads, "What a lovely town." He remarked as he arrived at the town square. He wasn't sure where he was going to find some work, adventurers didn't exactly have their work advertised in the regular places.. or did they? James paused wondering to himself. A Tavern or Inn might have a notice board for any work going.... Just as he was about to ask some poor fellow about it he seemed to just about die of fright on the spot. Instead he dropped onto his arse, scrabbled back to his feet and simply ran off.

"I wonder what that was about?" James wondered aloud looking around. He began looking around the town square for any sign of a suitable inn or tavern.

The poor lad who had bumped into James was indeed scared out of his wits at seeing what he believed to be a greater demon of the netherrealms, visited upon him and now he was certain his life was in mortal peril. There was only one way to resolve this. So, before the great dark god of the underworld could visit his disfavor upon him, he scrambled to think of a suitable offering to appease him. He was quick to his small hovel just around the corner from where James was and inside he saw his mother, whom he quickly dismissed considering not even his father wanted the dried up old hag. However, seeing his younger sister, hope flared, and he quickly grabbed her by the wrist and led her out the door much to her protest and many cries and demands as to where they were going. Upon seeing James, she looses a shriek, but the boy drops to his knees before him, dragging his offering of one attractive sibling down to the cobblestone as well and cries our, "O' Dark Lord! I bring to you a gift that I hope is to your liking! If you feast upon her virgin fles-" His sister interrupts with a plea, "No, no, I swear I'm not! I would make a terrible sacrifice!"

James looked down at them and cocked his head. "What?" He looked down at Rover. Then looked back at the pair. The boy prostrating himself. "Feast upon her virgin flesh? I'm sorry, i'm not interested in a prostitute, definitely not one so young." He tossed a small silver coin to the boy. "I'm sorry that you're so poor as to need to whore out your... sister?... for money, but really, there is no need. Just please tell me where a nearby inn is, or better, if you show me I could buy you both a nice meal." He offered patting Rover. "How the leader of a town can allow people to live in poverty like this is appalling!" He said more to himself than them.

The boy catches the coin and mutters under his breath, "As you bid, Dark Lord." His eyes are wide as saucers, and confusion was apparent, "I will take your devil's coin." He makes a gesture over his heart and mutters, "Gods have mercy, I sell my fellow men out this eve." His sister was well on her way to scrambling off and away as he, dripping with nervous sweat, leads James to the seediest inn he could think of... The Bilgerat. Surely when he reaped one of their souls, they would not be missed.

James followed the boy and was delighted when he saw the inn the boy had brought him too. He'd be sure to find a job in a place like this. "You're an odd fellow." Jamed remarked patting him on the shoulder in a friendly manner. "Come in, i'll buy you a drink, settle your nerves." Rover followed up behind him.

The boy blanched at that but nodded slowly. He was sure anything James was going to buy him was going to be tainted with poison. Or the blood of the innocent. Still, he led the way and found seats for James and him. A passing server glared and pointed at Rover and said, "Keep his heads off the tables."

"A mild ale for the boy, and a mulled wine for me if you please." He slid across a pair of silvers. "He was kind enough to help me find this establishment." Rover curled up at his masters feet as James settled down into the chair flexing his wings lightly. "It's a fine night, this odd boy could use some help calming his nerves, he suffered quite a fright earlier."

The server gives the boy a long hard look, as if to ask him what dark thing he had been fiddling with to summon a demon, before she shakes her head and takes the silver, muttering, "Least this ones hospitable," as she goes to get their drinks. The boy smiles awkwardly as James and looks back at the door longingly.

"So what is it you do for a living boy?" James asked politely making conversation.

He looks dumb for a second before slowly responding, "Shrubberies are my trade. I arrange, design, and sell shrubberies."

James sighs to himself. "And it doesn't even pay so well to avoid having to try and sell your sister out to strangers...." Almost more to himself than the boy. "Have you tried Adventuring? It pays a sight better." He remarked as he took a mouthful of his mulled wine.

"Uh, no..." He took a drink of his ale, "but I hear there is a high demand for shrubberies amongst knights... Maybe I should ply my trade on the road."

"I passed some of those Ni fellows on the way to town. They were most displeased that I didn't have any Shrubberies for them. I had to punch their leader in the nose when he tried to stop me going past. Very very rude." James remarked. "It's unhealthy for a knight to be so obsessed with them, though I suppose it does make sense, armour doesn't smell too pretty after a while."

The boy chuckles, "but great for business." He looks over his mug, "Ah, so..." He looks around the inn, "I need to get home now... Ya know, things to shrub come morning and all." He slowly starts to stand, suspicious for any sign that James still might turn hostile.

"Oh, of course. Don't let me keep you, and make sure to take good care of your sister." James smiled. Such a strange boy... "If you're ever in trouble, just pop in and ask for James Brown, I'll be nearby for a while I think."

Before James could change his mind, and without giving his name, lest he gain power over him from his lips, the shrubber makes his way quickly home and bolts the door shut.

Rain of the Night

A Devil's Prayer
Invitation Status
Posting Speed
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Writing Levels
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  2. Adept
  3. Advanced
Preferred Character Gender
  1. Male
  2. Female
  3. Futanari
  4. Primarily Prefer Male
Dark Fantasy, Steampunk, Modern Fantasy, High Fantasy
Jorrosa the Broken - Bilgerat Bride - Just another arrival...
How long had it been since he had travelled through the Mist of Baelmyst? It was many years ago, when he was still a mere servant rather than a glorified bodyguard for mages who sought out hardy, expendable men. Some thought their investment would eventually come to die while they survived. Some mages who had hired him still talk stories of how Jorrosa the Broken survived events that simply couldn’t have been done by others. Many others commented on his battle wounds, or lack thereof. Scars covered his body, but no sign of permanent injuries. His tales have been heard by few, but those who hear it, especially those gifted with the arts of the Arcane, took interest in his service. This group who hired him knew of his reputation as the Broken and had been fortunate to find him. He was immediately taken for their Journey to a port within Baelmyst… And there they were.

They arrived within this port city which Jorrosa knew nothing of, yet still felt the lingering feeling the Mist of Baelmyst was known for. They had not came out of the mist, the ever present mist. Yet, they survived their journey and the mages had taken an eye for the Broken.

Here, Jorrosa.” One of the mages approached with a small pouch of coin and an amulet he did not immediately recognize. The Broken removed his hood, revealing a middle-aged man with short, thin brown hair and simple brown eyes. His eyes narrowed onto the item specifically, no words needing to be told for his answers to his questions. “Take it. It’s a token of your deeds. It might help you get your next employer.” A token of his deeds? Carefully, he reached over and nabbed the pouch and the amulet, with he took careful inspection of. The sigil was something he’s seen through the journey; the mages had a few of those symbols showing. It represented an order or an association that Jorrosa knew not of. Yet, they said it would help him find a new employer in there, so he would wear it. The chain was tossed around his neck and he bowed to them. “It is a pleasure to have served you, sirs.” With this, they went to their business, leaving the man in the middle of this foreign place.

Where to go first? The man looked around him, not sure he knew where he would find some ale. It would be the first step to finding a place to stay too. He spoke to the first person he saw, carrying around his backpack filled to the brim, along with his shield and weapons. The man who was before him quickly explained that the Bilgerat Bride would be the best place to get info, food and ale and ran off, seemingly not wanting to talk to him for too long. With a shrug, he moved on to where he described the place and kept an eye out in these streets. One was never too sure, especially since this wasn’t Vossheim.

The establishment was not hard to find, which made this a whole lot easier for the Broken to find relaxation. He made his way to the door, simply nodding to those who stood in front and moved past to the inside. The man was quite tall, seizing up to an impressive 1 meter and 94 centimeters. He wasn’t scrawny either, taking some place. He pushed through the waves, doing his best to get the attention of a wench and maybe get some food and water… This crowd definitely wasn’t going to make his stay easier.


A meeting of Siblings and a Encounter with a rascal
A Sarzu, Andrea, Selvi & Tempest Collab.

Surak was wishing he had not removed the hood of his traveling cloak as he forced a smile and kindly told the elderly woman that right now was just not a good time but that perhaps on the next time they were passing through he would be more than willing to partake in her offer for some private time upstairs. He took a moment to glare at his rather amused looking sisters, Anesha was wearing perhaps the most evil smirk he had ever seen her produce. Especially after she had mentioned that he would love to spend the night with her. Surak muttered a prayer to whatever gods were listening when a distraction appeared in the form of a new arrival of a woman who seemed to draw stares from all around and made the barkeepers mother wander off, making Surak let out a sigh of relief.

Anesha looked oddly at a one-eyed crone and then at a nearby pudgy hunter as she rubbed where someone had pinched her thigh before she chuckled and turned to Surak, sharing a conspirational wink with Nasika. "You know brother, you are much too uptight, let loose in a while. I mean didn't you notice the angry stares of some of the patrons? Clearly the womans knows her tricks." She was still smirking as she leaned over as if to grab her mug but then suddenly snapped her arm around and closed her hand like a vice around the wrist of a half-ling who had the hand attached to the grabbed wrist deep within Surak's coin-purse. "Then again you also did not notice this sneaky bugger trying to rob you." She said with a growl from the back of her throat as she drew a dagger, glaring at the halfling.

Nasika rose her eyebrows and stared at the halfling at their table, Anesha holding his wrist with a drawn dagger in her other hand. She pointed at him and looked at her siblings. "See! Now that looks like a genuine thief! Why did those guards think I was one!?" She said loud enough for her brother and sister to hear but nobody else over the regular commution going on about them. "I tell you the guards here need to have their eyes checked, me a thief.... stole my gems, I worked hard for those." She blinked and looked again at the halfling. "Wait, thief, trying to steal from us?" She glared as a wisp of flame danced around her fingertips.

The halfling wriggles his childlike fingers and a few coins plink from his hands onto the table as he looks aghast at the three siblings, raising a hand to his heart as if wounded. "What me? A thief? A rogue?! No! Banish the thought!" He spits the words and tosses his head before pouting out his lip with large, innocent eyes, "I was just looking for my lucky thimble. It was my mother's and it slipped from my hand and who would have thought, it plopped, right into his purse here. Of course, I thought to myself, I'd just fetch it and it wouldn't be a problem! Oh, but I'm sorry, I should have asked. I'm sure such kind, beautiful maidens as yourselves would have understood."

Surak cursed and pulled away, glaring at the halfling as he got over the sudden surprise. "Do you know what we do with thieves."

Anesha blinked and suddenly grinned, looking at Surak. "Oh I know what we do with thieves, especially this kind." She started squeezing his wrist harder.

He looked at Surak unamused and raises his chin before wincing slightly at Anesha's grip, "Does it involve buying me mead and a warm bed for the night..." He points at Surak, "Not with that one. I know I am the irresistible Casa of Nova, but I am afraid my charms are not for male suiters." He looks at Nasika and waggles his eyebrows, "I see this one is stunned into silence by my very presence. I understand, it is hard to get used to, but we will work around this."

Anesha just smirked and suddenly grabbed hold of the small halfling and put him on the table and shouted out loud over the noise of the tavern. "BARKEEP! THIS FINE HALFLING WILL PAY FOR A ROUND FOR THE ENTIRE TAVERN!"

Surak guffawed and smirked, "RIGHT HO! A CHEER FOR THE GENEROUS HALFLING!"

Nasika smiled but glared at the halfling showing off a small orb of fire in the palm of her hand if he decided to do something unwise. Sharing the glee with her siblings in her smile.

A cheer goes up around the Bilgerat as Casa looses a sob of horror at what they were going to do to his hard-won coinpurse. He sniffles and looks more like a child than ever, the only man not rejoicing as he looks at Nasika and her flaming hand of fiery doom. "So, so cruel. And I just wanted my lucky thimble," he insists indignantly. He tugs at his sleeves and tries to wipe his eyes, "Now that I think about it, I think it fell back there in the peoples of great importance section instead, yeah..."

She perked a eyebrow and picked him up again, putting him in her lap. "Great importance section? Whats this about, eh?"

Surak and Nasika exchanged glances and also looked at the halfling. "This... place... has a great importance section?" He said, also wondering what the halfling meant with that.

"Oh you know, businessmen, nobles, the sort that want a good time without their wives catching on... That also pay their tabs and sometimes then some... Without breaking everything?" He points to the barrel chairs and gives them a look that says 'really now.'

Though, the look quickly fades as he gets a broad grin on his face, wriggling himself in Anesha's lap to get cozy and nesting his head back against her chest.

She snorts and looked down at the halfling, he had courage... or foolishness aplenty to act like that in his position. "Oh really? Is that where that one woman went off to?" She shared al ook with her siblings, the three of them knew that the sort of clientele there might be the kind that would hire them as she fixed her gaze back on the halfling. "Care to tell us how we might gain entrance there? Somehow I suspect you know." She dangles her coin purse above his head.

His eyes follow the jangling pouch like an attentive cat on a mouse, his hand creeping up to it slowly. "Ahhh, well... You grease Cody's palm... Or know people. Or well, like me, you sneak on by when the kid is ogling something or other. Has the attention of a flea." Casa glances at the mage of the trio, "Course, you might be able to scare him. Hasn't worked with Casa of Nova, the lionhearted, but perhaps with Cody."

She shared another look with her siblings, watching both of them nod as she picked the halfling up and handed him the small purse. "Guess you earned that, won't be enough to pay your tab for buying everyone a round though." She smirked and gestured to the young boy guarding the back section. "Shall we?"

Chuckling and shaking his head amused Surak got up. "Sure." He turned to the halfling, Casa of Nova. "Well then.... for some strange reason I believe we shall meet again, if we do. Better not have your hand in my pockets."

She let the flame dissolve in her hand. "Or I will fireball you." She just said with a innocent smile and wink. Finishing Surak's sentence as she went to follow Anesha already heading to the back section.


Maximum Weeb.
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EST. Might be asleep anytime from 12am to noon though.
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Fantasy (Modern, Futuristic, etc.)
The woman, for all their teasing, at least keep their distance. It was not the first time such comments were directed to him. His appearance seemed to be a fairly popular topic on either side of the world. Not that he dealt with it any better for how often he experienced it. To the sharp eyed a faint blush might have been seen as he bowed his head slightly, or it may have simply been a trick of the light. The temperature around Akade dropped as men approached to try their mettle; a small upwards curl of his lips greeted them as he looked up.

He came to a halt as the gathered men step back, wary of the sudden chill, and grey eyes scanned over those that wished to put his reputation to the test. Eventually he raised a hand at the most physically fit of the men, by appearance at the least, and he waggled his finger for him to step forward as he softly muttered, “You.” The difference between the two was essentially day and light. Built rugged, probably closer to seven feet than six, and Akade probably could have sat upon a shoulder fairly easily.

Akade’s hand reached into his cloak, the soft clink of coins audible to those with exceptionally sharp ears, as the man stepped into the cool air that surrounded him. A gold coin was visible in his palm as Akade offered a handshake to the man, and though initially confused his challenger ultimately accepted the gesture. His hand easily wrapped around Akade’s own, demonstrating again the disparity in size, but to the surprise of some the larger man tried to pull away instantly. Instead he found himself on his knees with a light tug on Akade’s part, unable to pull away from the icy grip that held him firm. The cold sensation spread for a moment longer before Akade released the man with his prize; the gold coin, now covered in frost. The man glared between his blank expression and the valuable prize for but a moment of his time, before he ultimately stood and pushed aside the crowd.

With that done, he turned his attention to the rest of the challengers and watched them scatter back to their own business. The chill began to fade as he ran a hand through his hair and threw the hood of his cloak off. Goodness, it was hard to find a place he wouldn’t be bothered with now… perhaps he should simply retire to the Tundra for a few years and let his name fade into obscurity.

With such thoughts on his mind, Akade approached the sanctioned off area to find a more comfortable seat than what was offered for the average tavern goer. His eyebrow climbed slightly as a red haired boy blocked his path and demanded an entrance fee. 'This kid blind?' His eyes bored into the unscrupulous individual for a moment before he simply shook his head and continued on his path, not caring if the boy stood in his way or not. Magic swirled and shifted in his body until it was more suitable for an actual fight than some simple demonstration of brute strength.
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Aliquipiso could feel the red hot eyes of the clientèle burning into the back of her skull when she walked past them and to the table she took a seat at. The wolf was eternally consigned to feelings of fear and contempt by civil society. In her experience, places of worship such as temples and churches were much quieter and the people there generally more tolerant. She sat alone at the table with a hollow expression on her face. Her jaw lightly clenched. The tribe she belonged to was no more, and she was the last of their kind. Her years of journeying across Germanic had been in vain; fruitless, and to return to home to find nothing but the bones of her people was disconcerting to say the least. Aliquipiso was a wolf without a pack, truly alone, waiting only for death to take her. The loneliness, she had wholly accepted that day she left her tribe at sixteen years of age; and death, she had made peace with long ago.

Among the scattered refuge of her childhood home, Aliquipiso found her grandfather's eagle bone flute. Grandfather Kana'ti used to play for the tribe for hours while they sat by the fire. She herself had no talent for music yet she was able to commit to heart, after hundreds of hours of trial and error, the finger placement and force of breaths required to emulate the beautiful sounds that created some of countless melodies that her grandfather played so effortlessly. She still was unable to arrange a melody of her own --it was a testament to her ineptness of the musical language.

It was by no means surprising to Aliquipiso that many patrons had gotten up to sit elsewhere away from her, and justifiably so, she hadn't taken a proper bath for weeks. The rain didn't count. It's not like this hadn't happened to her in the past. She was fully aware of the scent, or rather, the scents she carried. There were three parts to it: wolf, graveyard dirt, and fiend blood. Most could only smell the Wolf. Not four nights ago, Aliquipiso had buried the remains of whatever remained of her people with the aid of the Wolf. The Wolf decided to help itself afterwards, feasting on the flesh of a large carnivorous mana fiend. When Aliquipso regained consciousness, she found herself lying naked next to the dead creature in a puddle of its own blood. The blood was still very warm. Baelmyst had one less mana fiend to contend with. Unfortunately, Aliquipiso lost her stone club in that ordeal, but was lucky enough to find an intact stone tipped spear on her tribe's grounds. She took the spear with her.

Sitting in a far corner and facing outwards gave Aliquipiso a clear view of anyone who entered or exited the establishment, and the din of the crowd was lower in magnitude around her for other reasons. These things didn't happen by accident or coincidentally. In many ways, the urban jungle could be more dangerous than the jungle. That didn't mean connections couldn't still be drawn between the laws of the the civil civilizations and the rest of civilization. To Aliquipiso, the roguish halfling's sleight of hand was reminiscent of the lion stealing the hyena's hard earned kill for himself. The reverse was certainly true as well. One profited from the hard work of the other, at the other's expense, not its own. In this case, the brave little hyena seemed to have bitten off more than he could chew. Here be three lions, Aliquipiso thought. Afterwards, a small snowy haired human briefly caught her attention by laying low one of the larger patrons of the Bilgerat. Between watching the entertainment provided by the snowy-haired one, and banking in on a free drink from the halfling's purse, the red-haired boy had not been very much minding his duties.

In all honesty, Aliquipiso hadn't the slightest clue what she was doing at the Bildgerat Bride. The last time Aliquipiso was in an inn or similar establishment, she was much younger and her hair darker than the raven's plumage. Earlier, a woman wrapped in robes had held her attention. Aliquipiso sensed something off about her and hers, and she suddenly felt the need to confirm these suspicions. Thusly, whilst the red-haired boy's attentions were elsewhere, Aliquipiso picked up her spear and strode into the private seating area without interruption, not trying to be stealthy in any degree and not aware that the private area required an entrance fee. She caught sight of the robed woman in a far back booth, sitting alone. Aliquipiso approached her in a non-confrontational manner. A slender melancholy smile was on her lips.

I am Aliquipiso Moonshadow,” she introduced, bowing her head at the robed woman as a sign of respect, “I sense something is not right here...that you walk with a burden that is perilously close to crushing you.”
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Loveless Purity
Invitation Status
Posting Speed
  1. One post per week
Online Availability
WEEKDAY : Hardly online since I might be at home around 8 P.M. WEEKEND : Higher chance to be online. Can still handle OOC, but IC post needs more time
Writing Levels
  1. Intermediate
  2. Adaptable
Preferred Character Gender
  1. Primarily Prefer Female
Fantasy, Modern Fantasy, Adventure, Action, Supernatural, Magical, Medieval

INTERACTION : Woman Client


[fieldbox="ERYLIS TARCASIA & IFRIT- Hair Potion Request, plum, dashed, 10, Georgia"]Today was not a good day for Erylis. She just got back from collecting debts, it was not easy and some of it ended up become a brawl fight and chasing drama all day long. Her body was tired and her brain was boiling hot, she wanted to kill those who never paid their debts, but dead bodies couldn't pay either. So, torture was the last method she would do when nothing else worked out, she hated it but she needed money to keep on living. Thankfully, there was Ifrit who helped her to collect the debts. However, Ifrit sometimes could be so annoying. He must be the most annoying demon in hell, she hated and liked him at the same time. Their relationship was quiet complicated.

As the night turned darker while the moon started to peek, Erylis and Ifrit stumbled across a tavern, an old weary tavern with a weird unappealing name, The Bilgerat Bride. Without asking Erylis, Ifrit marched his way into the tavern. After a long day, he really needed something to drink, a good ale would surely ease his mind and body. Erylis, who didn't like drinking nor a tavern, just rolled her eyes and followed the fire demon inside. The tavern was filled with a lot of people, chatters could be heard from here and there. In fact, it wasn't a pleasant sight to see after a bone-tired day, but they had no choice.

They approached the bar and sat side by side. While Ifrit ordered an ale, Erylis just asked for water, "You should try drinking this," Ifrit said as he downed a tankard of ale. He wiped his mouth gleefully and ordered for one more, "Whatever, you must pay it yourself. I'm not paying for another glass."

Just like he would always do, Ifrit waved his hand with no care because he knew that Erylis would pay for it no matter what. As they were busy with their own mind, a woman came near to Erylis and tapped her shoulder to gain her attention.

"Are you Erylis? Erylis Tarcasian? The famous potion maker?"

Erylis raised her brow in confusion, "I don't know about the famous part, but I am indeed a potion maker, can I help you?"

"Oh goodness, glad to meet you here, I really need to buy a potion from you. Can you..." the woman paused and drew her head closer to make a whisper, "...make a hair potion?"

"What?" Ifrit who heard the conversation quickly shouted with all his might, "Hair potion for y--" Erylis covered his loud mouth before Ifrit could finish his sentence, "Hair potion? May I ask more detail about it?"

"Yes, yes, my dear, I want a hair potion that can make hair grow faster. You know to cure baldness."

Erylis nodded her head, though the woman said nothing about who was the potion for, Erylis could perfectly see her unsuited and flimsy wig. Ifrit couldn't hold his laughter as soon as his eyes saw the wig, he whispered to Erylis, "You see her wig? It is s--" again, before Ifrit could finish his sentence, Erylis stopped him by nudged him right on his stomach.

"I can do that, I will list the ingredients for you. After you find it, bring it to me and I will make the potion for you."

The woman's face suddenly turned red, "For me? IT IS NOT FOR ME! Did I say it is for me? I'm just asking for the potion, but it doesn't mean it is for me! DO I LOOK LIKE A BALD WOMAN FOR YOU? DOES MY HAIR LOOK LIKE A WIG?"

"No, no, no, no. I didn't mean it is for you, I mean it is for you, no, it is not for you. How should I say this?? I will give it to you, but it is--"

"I DON'T CARE. How could you be so famous when you have that kind of attitude? How rude! I'm leaving! You hair doesn't look so natural too! What is that? It is more like dried bushes for me!" The woman kept babbling until she was outside the tavern, but right before she disappeared, Ifrit smirked and yelled at her, "Be careful! The wind is so strong, your hair might want to leave your head!"

"What is wrong with her? Can you see her wig, it is so obvious and-- What?" Erylis said nothing and just glared at Ifrit with her piercing hawk eyes, but Ifrit just laughed and handed his tankard of ale to Erylis, "You should really drink this, you are so stiff, Ery."

"Whatever. I'm seriously not gonna pay for your drinks."

Radio Jelly

Galactic Gadabout

The hardwood bar counter Salius so often found himself slumped against shook beneath him, startling him from his drink-induced stupor. A fine smelling tankard of expensive liquor appeared where but before there had been nothing, causing the mage to rear back in bewilderment. There, standing next to him, was a woman who's face he could not quite place--be it the fault of the ale or just the poor memory of a transient.

"Salius, yes? I don't suppose a man for hire like yourself keeps too many tabs on his clientele, but I headed up a caravan north of here. You were part of our safety detail."

Salius remembered the job well enough, but she was right. While he had been familiar with her face, he hardly worked to facilitate any relationships beyond the job.

"Aye. I remember the group well enough. We ran into a great deal of fiends on the return if I'm not mistaken you," Salius responded. His voice rasped at the back of his throat as he spoke, and the sound of his voice hardly reached above the clamor of the tavern behind him. Salius couldn't help but notice that for a caravaneer she had a less rugged look to her features. He surmised either she was new to the job, or just exceptionally lucky when it came to picking safe routes.

"You aren't, sir, but you are wrong about the number of them fiends. If it weren't for your magic we wouldn't have made it back. This round here is for you as a thanks from the crew and I."

Salius's eyes shot to the drink. It smelled faintly of a northern blend he had once tried in his travels; hints of mint and juniper wafted through the air around it. Without hesitation, his hand shot out and grabbed it by the handle. With one swift move he brought the drink to his mouth and downed it. It was indeed a northern blend: the spices left a nearly cold burn in the back of his throat. It wasn't that he had any reason not to be kind to the woman, but Salius didn't take the job to make friends. The gift only confirmed the mage's suspicions: she must've been new to the job after all.

"Look mis," He began. after wiping the drink from his lips. "You needn't bother wasting your money to thank someone for doing their job. Thanks for the drink anyways, but it was no great inconvenience to me to off a couple more fiends than you were expecting." He turned from her gaze then, and couldn't quite hear a rebuttal--if there was one--over the increasingly loud sounds of the tavern. With some interest, he watched a host of newcomers filter in. Some made for the back room, others the bar. Salius wasn't too concerned: if there was trouble afoot he'd feel it in time to react. That wasn't, of course, to say that he had never seen so many outsiders in a night.

At a certain point, a cry went around as the apparent generosity of one such halfling had earned the entire bar another round.

Hmph... how's that. Two free drinks on one night. My luck must be turning.

The thought made Salius smirk beneath the cowl that partially covered his face. With blinding efficiency, he turned to the nearest bartender. For whatever reason, the man looked particularly displeased, with a crossed brow and a deep redness to his cheeks.

"One more for me on the halfling's tab. Make it a double."



It had been a hard enough day as it were. She had failed in tracking a brilliant doe that she had desperately wanted to grill up for dinner. The doe wouldn't have been enough to dampen her spirits on its own, but game was becoming even scarcer near the port then when she had first arrived, which was saying something. Crela would've welcomed the challenge to her hunting skills if not for the fact that if it weren't for the obviously disastrous outcome ahead.

Baelmyst was not a particularly kind place, but in recent months Crela's luck as a hunter and mercenary had begun to fade. She was good at what she did; her weapons and skills were keen as ever. It just appeared as though a deep slump had taken hold of her professional success as of late, and with it her mood.

Therefore, it was only inevitable that when the innkeeper decided to saunter over to her, and fabricate a daring tale of his hunting prowess, that Crela would decide that she really would have none of it.

"Y'see this here Raizhog?" The innkeeper jerked one finger over his shoulder at the clearly-store-brought mantelpiece above him. "If you consider yourself a huntress, you know how tough these beasties are to take down. This one was all me. Tracked 'n smacked him myself."

In response, Crela faked bewilderment.

"WHAT?! A whole Raizhog on your own? WOW! A big tough guy like yourself probably didn't even get a scratch in return, did you? Was that the next part of the story?"

She never was good at concealing her sarcasm. The semi-embarassed, semi-pissed innkeeper went red in the face at her jest, if only because it was loud enough to solicit a chuckle or two from the adventurers sitting at either side of her.

"Shove off you northern wench. That there's my kill and I stand by it!" The man would stick to his guns, which didn't surprise Crela at all. There were even a few hunters herself who'd have believed the story for themselves.

"Sticking to your guns, then? Well next time I've got a hunt I'll be sure to stop by, 'keep." Crela gave the man a coy wink before shoving her face into a frothing pint of ale. The musings behind her grew louder by the minute: faint soundbites of different conversations reached her ears. Somewhere a woman was putting in an order for a hair-growth potion, and somewhere else a rich halfling was buying everyone a round.

Ah, the Bilgerat Bride. What would you be without your weirdos?

At the thought, her eyes zeroed in across the counter at a merc she recognized. Salius.

I guess even xenophobes need a drink sometimes...
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Let's go to war
Invitation Status
  1. Look for groups
  2. Looking for partners
Posting Speed
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  4. Douche
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Preferred Character Gender
  1. Male
  2. Female
  3. Nonbinary
  4. Transgender
  5. Nonbinary
  6. No Preferences
Modern Fantasy, Sci-Fi, Low Fantasy, Historical, Horror
Lyrman Rosticault and Otel Pence
Plucking the lyre with the gentlest strokes he could manage, he threw an exaggerated wink at the barmaids who had been flocking. Lyrman loved to indulge them, even though every moment they spent dawdling was a moment where the grog wasn't flowing, meaning a slight lull in the money coming in. Sobriety was the bane of his business, so he nodded his head to indicate that they should get moving once more. The only woman in the group he'd yet to sleep with blushed and giggled, and he subconsciously licked his lips. He turned his attention back to his audience and to winning their money.

Otel, on the other hand, had a much more difficult time. She was trapped across the bar, out of Lyrman's sight. This would usually not be a problem, as the petite elf had proven time and again that she could take care of herself and was clearly better at keeping Lyrman out of trouble than the fop was capable of on his own. However, she'd managed to attract an admirer, and he was a frankly determined one. She'd gathered that the affluent were always the hardest to say no to. Lyrman was more than enough proof of that. In fact, she was also beginning to wonder if the rich conflated money with sexual charisma, because she'd never found her garish companion all that attractive, but she noticed it didn't seem to stop other men and women from spending the night with him.

Back to the matter at hand, she found herself face to face with a man of no grace or tact and no viable means of escape. He was currently clutching her hand and caressing it ever so softly, though his skin still felt as abrasive as the tongue of a large cat, despite him clearly never having worked a day in his life. Humans were coarse and crass as part of their nature. She meant no offense when she said she felt literal discomfort just in being close to him. Alas, she kept quiet and listened to the stranger. He'd introduced himself several times over the course of their conversation, but she refused to let the name stick. She decided that showing blatant disinterest, coupled with conveniently forgetting the man's name, would clearly get her point across.

"I assure you, milady, that you will find Enruba such a glorious place that you will never again spare a thought for such dreadful haunts as these," the noble said, his eyes bright and his voice sincere. He had suggested this drastic move a few times already, but never so bluntly. It had gotten to the point where she was finding herself less capable of keeping a straight face. Surely, this had never worked before on an unsuspecting woman? It was preposterous.

She cleared her throat and deftly wiggled her fingers out from his grasp, "Sir, you flatter me, but I'm already promised to another."

In no place but her mind would that ever work, and the noble puffed out his chest, inflated with indignation and made bold by unadvised brew, "Say no more if you mean that troubled bard! And please, my love, since you are to be my bride I pray you call me Adeben."

It took the elf a moment to process that he had meant Lyrman. Troubled? Clearly, Adeben had no real understanding of what that word meant. She sighed and let a kind smile pass over her lips, "Lyrman is my business partner and nothing more. The man I left back home promised me his true and faithful hand in marriage." She picked a sprig from her bag, one she'd been carrying purely for aesthetic purposes and deftly formed it around her finger while Adeben stared at her face. Showing him her hand, she waved it and displayed the shoddy attempt at a ring, "The elven way is a truly natural one, so he gave me a token of his love with something he knew would last."

This prompted the exact reaction she had been hoping for as the stocky man's jaw clenched in rage and he stood, "You deserve gems, my dearest, and I shall fetch a rock befitting your most beautiful finger at once! Stay here and wait for my return. I shall wake the jeweler up if I must!" With a bow and a flourish, he was off.

She slumped in her seat, exhausted, and plucked off the branch before it started to itch. Otel thought she was about to get a moment of peace, but she was sorely mistaken as a commotion erupted closer to the middle of the bar. Someone yelled that the halfling was going to buy everyone a round of liquor, and the drunken slosh of a reply was enough to indicate that this was in no way a good idea. She grit her teeth and watched Lyrman's eyes light up. She shook her head at her overeager companion and he rounded his shoulders in a show of defeat. He was playing his last song for the night, and the elf would gladly spare money to buy him grog afterwards. Clearly, the "offer" was made after some sort of fight, and she didn't want to be caught up in bar politics.

"Thank you very much," Lyrman said, seemingly genuinely enjoying the crowd's attention. Even though some had turned around to see what had spurred on some loud, threatening voices, most returned when they realized the matter had nothing to do with them. He took a few bows and then watched as the usual entertainment took to the stage, bringing with them the same upbeat music as was customary in places such as these. There was no art or innovation in bars. People wanted something they didn't need to remember the words to. Honestly, drunks were the worst for singing, with their horrid pitch coupled with sieve-like memories.

He took advantage of the turnover to stride to Otel's side, putting a hand at her back and taking her fingers in his and dancing her along the floor, a smirk fixed on his lips, and he crowed, "Did I see you making a new friend? Please tell me he's wealthy and willing to fund us." His smile was inexhaustible and it made him look like a reedy, overgrown child. The blonde could see how that look would be attractive to some, rather than his trademark across-the-room leer, but she knew it was a smile reserved only for her and she sighed.

"He's very rich, but your reputation precedes you."

"You say that like it's a bad thing, but you know what I always say. No recognition can ever hurt."

"He's not trying to fund us, but he does have an interest in me."

After a few blinks, the bard settled on an unexpected, "Perfect!" The confused look on Otel's face prompted him to elaborate, "You let him buy you a few things, we sneak outta town, and we make some quick money."

Otel politely, but forcefully, shrugged Lyrman off and instead took the lead, "You know I'm not like that. I don't care for the man, but I'm not going to swindle him like that."

Her companion raised a knowing eyebrow, almost daring her to go on, but he asked the question he was leading to without hesitation, "Where is he now?"

A blush crept across her fair cheeks and even tinged the tips of her ears, "B-buying me a ring, I presume." She broke away when his grin became too sickening and crossed her arms over her chest, "Oh, it's not like that! I was going to lock him out before he came back. It seemed the most humane thing to do."

With that, Lyrman snorted and tried to whisk the elf back up into a dance. It was doing wonders at inciting jealousy among the patrons of the bar, and he just needed her cooperation for a moment or two longer to really drive the point home that he was a devious flirt and capable of sleeping with anyone of his choosing in this place. Alas, Otel was stubborn, and stronger than she looked, as tended to be the case with elves and his attempt at swaying her ended up with them both tumbling towards a blocked-off area of the bar, knocking into a woman with pale hair and bringing her down with them.



Neriah's boots clacked and scuffed against the cobblestone streets. Her cloak was drawn close with her hood up against the mild chill of the early evening. Following the trail of rumors, she was directed to the dilapidated tavern. A rather unimpressed cringe slipped on to her otherwise tired face and she released a disappointed sigh. The journey here had been arduous enough. Clearly hoping for a nice night’s stay was asking too much.

After adjusting her pack on her shoulder, Neriah pulled the door open. The racket of the crowd inside, along with screech of door were unpleasantly amplified in her ears. This sudden force of sound was enough to distract her from the upward step into the building proper. She pushed her foot forward only to have it abruptly catch on the unseen step. Her stomach clenched as the ground rushed up to meet her. A tight gasp was all that escaped before the sound of her body thumping on the hardwood floor reached the crowd of other patrons. Neriah remained motionless for a breath, thanking the gods for the invention of hoods as her’s covered her quite completely, before pushing herself back up onto her feet amid the murmur of chuckles.

She kept her hood close as she stepped into a more shaded patch of the side wall. Her hands and shin throbbed like a pesky tot screaming for more sweets. Neriah did her best to ignore the pain and turned her attention to busy taverfolk. She was told the man she sought frequented a particular corner table. And lo, there did indeed seem to be someone seated there. Willing all her confidence up, Neriah carefully picked her way through the crowd to the Tracker’s table.

Of course, she stopped when she was only a few paces away. Seated in the corner was a scrap of a ratman. His pathetic fumbling for his cheese sandwich made her stomach drop and her quiet hope snuff out. Was this to be yet another dead end? Neriah stifled the welling urge to cry and approached the sad man-creature.

“Um...might you be Brek? Brek the tracker?” She asked, hardly loud enough to be heard.

The ratman at first only continued fumbling for his cheesy meal. Neriah pushed his plate to his shaky hand. He made a sigh of delight before finally taking notice of her. He gave her an ugly smile before muttering something, maybe a thank you. Without needing to look at his eye patch or his clouded eye, one could tell he was for all purposes blind. He seemed to ask her for a refill for his drink.

“No. I’m not a barmaid. Are you Brek the tracker?” She said more clearly.

The ratman was taken aback. “Oh my. No n’s call me that in ‘ears. Brek’s me name. What can I do ye”

“Can you teach your skill?” Neriah asked a bit harshly.

“Uh..oh oh...well...heh. Been long time since I taught nobody. Heh, I suppose there’s no harm in try’n tho, right…?”

“How many non-humans are in this tavern?” Neriah eyed him disapprovingly.

“Er, wha?”

“Answer the question. Estimates are fine.”

“Uh...oh..” Brek drew in a long breath and seemed to try and look around the place. “Well...heh, sure a lot of people in this place. ‘Ave you had the sandwiches? They’re sure good!”

The half-elf started at him blankly before excusing herself, “Never mind. Enjoy your meal.”

She pushed herself into crowd until she found herself at empty seat along the bar. Neriah gazed out with stoic eyes while her inner hopelessness slowly began to be consumed by an overpowering numbness. Perhaps it was time to give up the search for anyone who could teach her and time to pursue a different means of living. She began taking stock of people of potential interest. The Bilgerat Bride certainly was in no short supply of interesting characters, though there were a few stand outs. She passively lowered her hood and turned to the barkeep to get a drink and something hot to eat.

That LARP Guy

The stairs creak in protest as Jerrek takes heavy steps down towards the main room of the Belligerent Bride. Having booked a room and changed out of his armor Jerrek now wears a dark burgundy tunic, brown pants, and large white gloves. A thick leather belt is fastened around his midsection adorned with small trinkets of bone and fur. An axe with intricate markings and detailed craftsmanship rests in a specialized holster dangling from Jerrek’s belt. While the weapon looks well used it is apparent that it had recently been polished. The rather large section of chain he owns is wrapped over one shoulder and under the other several times so that it would stay in place. In one arm Jerrek cradles a cat whose fur is composed of both black and orange hairs, it seems to be resting contently despite the noise of the establishment.​

Before finding a place to enjoy the evening Jerrek panned his eyes around the tavern. He reached for his coin purse, hidden among the furs on his belt, at seeing a small man acting rather suspiciously.

“The small man can take what he wants... after all a foshnu and his gems are easily parted.” Jerrek said in hushed tones.

Jerrek spotted a small table with only one of the four seats taken and decided that was the place to be. Claiming one of the two seats next to the man Jerrek joined the table and carefully placed the cat he held in the middle of the table.

“Ey! I’m eatn’ here!” exclaimed the man whose company Jerrek had joined.

Jerrek set his eyes upon the man in commoner's clothes and formed a slight frown. The man's eyes widened upon realising exactly who he was talking to, “Ne-Never mind.”

The cat went from sitting to lying in the middle of the table as Jerrek slowly pet her. “Kitten is a good Kitten. My warm, fuzzy, little Glarkenbug.” Jerrek cooed affectionately, touching his nose to the top of the cat’s head.

The crowd created some noise at the announcement of free drinks on the tab of a Halfling but Jerrek and his cat seemed to take no notice of this. A gentleman and a lady both dressed fairly nice especially for such an establishment approach Jerrek’s table. They hold themselves with confidence though the woman seems about to burst from excitement.

“Oh my! Is that a cat you have there? Tell me is that your domesticated little creature there?” The woman asks, “May I pet her? What is her name?”

“Uh…” Jerrek was obviously caught off guard by their attention, let alone their questions, “Kitten is her name… Yes you may pet Kitten."

The woman lets out an excited squeal as she passes her fingers through Kitten’s fur. The cat’s eyes immediately shot open upon feeling the touch of someone else. She continues to purr softly but lowers her gaze at the woman. After exactly three pets, which seemed to be the perfect number, the woman withdrew her hand.

“Hmmm… What a very… Astute name.”, The gentleman commented, “My name is Jeremy and this is Lizabella. You must accompany us to the VIP section. My lady is most taken with your enchanting creature.”

Kitten looks up to Jeremy, clearly unimpressed and indifferent to everything happening around her. The man that was eating at the table with Jerrek reaches a hand out to pet Kitten. Upon seeing the extended hand Kitten immediately recoils back and gives a sharp hiss striking the man with extended claws. “Ow!”

“Seems like she knows good company when she sees it too!” Jeremy says, laughing entirely to long at his own joke, “Come on now my Orcish friend let us make our way to the real party!”

Jerrek blinks a few times as he registers everything that had happened. Picking up Kitten with both hands he followed Jeremy and Lizabella to make an audience with a red haired boy.

“Yes, hello again. I am sure you can find my coin as good as any. We wish to enter the exclusive area of this establishment. Lizabella, Myself, and…” Jeremy gestures towards Jerrek, “And what is your name good sir?”

“Jerrek.” He offers the boy a quick smile of large stained teeth after his introduction.

The boy elf, Cody, makes like he had not just been picking at his teeth with the nail of his littlest finger and wipes it on his leggings, "Ah, Jerry, been a bit since you brought the mistress on by. Liza, looking beautiful as always, of course." He draws back his lip as he wrinkles his nose and squints up at the big, fleshy orc in front of him, "Can't say I much care for who you've decided to keep comp'ny with, but, hey, a payin' customer and a promise he don't cause no problems and the boss's happy 'nuff." He sniffs and holds out his hand as Jeremy fishes out a few bits to pay their way through. Cody sizes Jerrek up and snorts, "Don't know why a fella like you is headin' back anyhow. If I had chops like yours, I'd be bustin' a few skulls when the brawlin' broke out."

“Yes far too long!” Jeremy exclaims, producing the coin required and giving it to Cody, “I am sure Jerra-, Jerrek will cause no troubles.”

Liza finished her giggling spurred on by Cody’s compliment and goes to give him a kiss on the cheek, “You always know how to talk to a lady Cody.”

Jerrek smiles at the mention of his ‘chops’ and cleared his throat with a brief cough, “Breaking skulls is what I do for a living. It will be a welcome change to spend time with different... comrades. I just want to relax… for now. The field of battle awaits me at a later date.”. Jerrek spoke his words in a slow deliberate fashion with a voice that commanded attention. It was now that he chose to give Cody a second thought, a warrior's analysis of how this boy held himself, which hand he might favor, and if any weapons were in display.

((Collab post with Tempest))


Original poster
Within the inn, the patrons were capitalizing on their chance of free booze, jostling to the bar or harassing the bar maids to bring them more. The already irate mood of the barkeep, thanks to the Northern woman, soon became unbearable as he sloshed and slammed drinks about to various consumers with only moderate accuracy as to who had ordered it. Amongst the people at the bar, Salius is splashed with a frothing pint as it is landed in front of him and Neriah is given a bowl of grey chowder reeking of some sort of seafood. Her drink is forgotten in the mix of things along with the spoon.

Crela manages to avoid being bumped into by a crashing drunken mess of a sailor who makes his way to the bar, but Salius is not as lucky. The sailor lets loose a stream of curses, wiping the dripping remains of his grog from his chest as he glares at the Manica, “Son of a rat. You spilled my drink!” He grabs Salius by the collar and snarls, “That nice little Halfling paid for that one. You buy me a new one.” That very Halfling, however, had taken his chance while everyone was rushing the bar to fly the coop, but not without leaving a love letter of farewell to Anesha.

Meanwhile, Akade had managed to walk by, getting a strange look from Cody, but had otherwise been left alone. The kid grimaced but turned his attention back to Jerrek, raising his head and arching a fair brow. The orc would notice that he was slight of build and did not seem very well suited to actually putting up a fight. Why he was set to guarding the exclusive area made very little sense. However, the orc continues with the nobles past into the area where Aliquipiso talks with the robed woman.

The robed woman brushes her hair back and looks up at the taller figure as her shadow comes to pass over the table, tense and apparently frightened. She seems to relax, though, as if realizing Aliquipiso was not who she thought and a small smile passes over her lips, “You speak in a very pretty manner for such a wild looking woman. You might be right, though. I think everyone carries some sort of burden, after all.” She frowns and looks back towards the front of the inn. “Would you mind keeping me company ‘til my friend arrives?” She startles and jumps as a crash goes through the inn.

Nearby, the bard, his assistant and Anesha had fallen into a heap by the quartered off area. Cody springs into action at the sight of two damsels in distress and pushes Lyrman aside with his foot a bit forcefully, “Oi, if ya go around assaultin’ the guests, you’re not gonna get paid for providin’ entertainment, ya hear?” He narrows his eyes at the foreigner before doing a quick internal coin toss in his head. He offers his hand to Anesha, figuring he always did find tough women to be damned attractive, in order to help her up, “You alright there, miss?” He offers his most charming, boyish smile.

Tensions were rising throughout the inn and sailors were beginning to notice that their coinpurses were light or all together missing. The flowing alcohol had not helped matters and now, the innkeeper was not helping things as he was cussing up a storm and demanding people pay up before they get more drinks, noticing the Halfling was missing, now. It was becoming apparent more than a few in the crowd were looking for a fight. Even more were becoming daring in their liquored states as they plucked at James’ wings and, while snickering, tapped a bowl of rum towards one of the heads of the Cerberus. Amongst the crowd, though, a woman wearing all black armour stands and begins to leave the inn.


Зимна Жарава
Invitation Status
Posting Speed
  1. One post per week
  2. Slow As Molasses
Online Availability
My timezone is GTM+2. I could be seen in the evening.
Writing Levels
  1. Adept
  2. Advanced
If I must be honest, it highly depends on the plot at hand. I am an adaptable person, one who easily takes genre swings, but I mostly prefer fantasy, modern, medieval, mystery and mind-benders.

Mirza abd-Siavash

|| Age ||
20 years

|| Stats ||

|| Race ||

[BCOLOR=transparent]|| Nationality ||[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]|| Location ||[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]The Bilgerat Bride[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]|| Party ||[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]Utet Reseph;[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]Heydar abd-Reseph Al-Kanika;[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]Sakhr abd-Siavash Al-Dhikh.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent][Sheet on page 9][/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Nightfall, a time both whimsical and horrid, when millions of stars light up the welkin like candles in a dark room, guiding weary travellers from above in those late late hours, whilst their winged mortal brethren, the fireflies, shine the way below for all of those tired heads that can no longer gaze upwards to the skies they shall never reach. Yet as the shadowy corners grow larger, so does the sinister nature of life dig deeper, and creatures of darkness in many shapes and forms begin lurking about, from the finest of streets to the deepest of woodlands, sniffing about for terror and fright so that they may gobble up the shivering hearts of the innocent. Indeed, a mixture of different shades, bright and dark, is the evening and it is perhaps due to this that many chose to dream in this period, to wish and strive for a truth of their own, a fantasy that may end as a beautiful glimpse of paradise or as a hellish nightmare mirage. The youth, as in any age gone past, dreamt big, thus soared upwards eagerly with wings spread afar, but all the other broken, gaunt and rotten old birds flocked to the alleys and cold filthy sheds, picking and plucking their mangy feathers with cracked dry beaks, having a glass of alcohol at their side to blind their eyes for the nightmare they exist in.[/BCOLOR]​

[BCOLOR=transparent]Port Neworth was a city no different, having various flocks and nests for them to gather at. Despite containing several noteworthy landmarks where one could waste their soul away in a state in the in-betweens, there was one that truly stood out from the rest, a place where all the lowlifes of the seaside town and nearby villages went to find their early graves - an inn by the name of the Bilgerat Bride. Worn and torn from the winds and eras it stood against, it was a creaking and leaking two-storey building, having to boast with very few things - two of the most remarkable being the available space and abundance of drinks. It was a shaky loitering ground, full mostly with men with little regard to their personal health, hence the stench and teeth here or there resting in the floor's cracks as fallen flags from last night's fight. The occasional woman could be seen here or there, offering her services in one way or another, or having her fill with a group she came in with. The atmosphere was ofttimes heavy and damp, the mold being at the tip of one’s tongue after a single inhale, yet what the Bilgerat Bride lacked in her charming appearance she made up with the thundering of exuberance after sunset, as souls great and small gathered to create a small beehive of jovial drunkards, murmuring gossipers, misguided foreigners and countless more weird and mysterious types. It was a cheerful filthy hole unlike any other and tonight, like any other, the inn was booming with voices and songs, telling tales of the world and its troubled fallen folk.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]"! ☄, ➤ ♨♟☽┘۩ ♠♦ 回! ♕ ♰ ↬ ▽ ☹↯┏☼ ♡↫┈☣ ❉! ‽ “ ” ↘ $ ! [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent][/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]!"[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Among the sea of chitchat, the waves of which came clashing left and right, an outraged clamour went higher than the rest in its respective circle audience. It was a string of incomprehensible words for the native ears, a burst of anger and displease being fired thoughtlessly from the mouth of a 20-year-old young man, whose eyes seemed to be burning pits of blue flames. He was positively blunt and inconsiderate of the surroundings and the several curious spectators, who had turned their heads around to look at the small group of allies, travellers from beyond the ocean, and wondered what it was that this nuisance of a youngster was so irritated about that he had to interrupt their alcoholic serenity. Alas, the onlookers swiftly returned to their stained slobbery mugs, for their interest faded faster than the night’s first drink. They were unable to comprehend what the outlander was barking about, but even so it would have been entertaining to see what would become of this short fuse, had an older man with a black turban, the one at whom the remarks were likely initially being thrown at, not interfered between his companion and Cody, the freckled red-haired little rascal of the Bilgerat, whose yellow streak down his back was shining whilst being towered over by the huge black guard of the aforementioned foreigners. As the attendant stood silent, the senior, likely a person in his forties, calmly urged his younger acquaintance in their own language to lower his voice, pointing out that it was best not to make an elephant out of a fly, but it was to no avail. The blue-eyed’s fury was simply spiced up even more, to the point where he unconsciously switched to another language, one the majority could understand well, despite the small accent. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]“I’ll give you an elephant, old man.” [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]he growled.[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent] “I’ll give you such an elephant even your povertish family tree wouldn’t be able to eat it all! I’ve had to tolerate the fetor of a ship full of infidels, whose only clean parts were their salt-water-washed brains. Didn’t get a wink of sleep in a bedraggled excuse for a cabin while those sea-muts gargled some vile song, which [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]I hoped[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent] was them being choked to death! Then we arrived at some misty beggarly port with not a single person to greet us and then had to wait for who knows how damn long until some servile bearded crab came along and transported us to this cesspool of a town in [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]a wagon[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]! Who am I, the king of a pigstine?! And then he up and left, he up and left me here, in this dump, where only raggy hags and rugged rodents crawl like worms in the dampness!” [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]None of the locals reacted to this comment, seeing as most of them also had thoughts along those lines when it came to the place they lived in.[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent] Then one of them smaller mice lead us here, telling us this was an inn, but it turns out that I’ll have to once again be forced to sleep in one establishment with a bunch of flea-bitten bags of rotten meat and spoilt alcohol!” [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]But to this one several certainly glanced with a pestered red eye over their shoulders.[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent] “And now, [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]now[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent], you tell me that some sudsy-mouthed moth-eaten ragtag gypsy stole [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]my[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent] money?! Are you asking me to blow this place up now or wait until you’ve had your full with their black wine and white olives?!”[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Had this youth’s voice differed in pitch, the blind eye would have thought that all this commotion was between a couple of some sorts, for the upset intonation combined with the level of irritation was greater than that of a woman, who was angry at her husband for not being able to tell apart cream from lemon chiffon, or that of a mother-in-law, whose son-in-law refused to eat her cooking. Rather than a storm in a teacup, it was more of a typhoon in a tankard. In the centre of it all, the cause of one of tonight’s many uproars, was Mirza abd-Siavash Al-Shahnaz, whose full name was far too long to say in one breath even for the members of his homeland, Enruba. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Born and raised in the country of paradisical gardens among the desert’s rushing sands, this individual was, de jure, a mana-slave of the Siavash family, a powerful house that possessed one of the Enrubian market’s crowns, as they handled trade and did business high on the heated social pyramid. However, de facto this young man was a pampered child, a “slave” that had been taught in various disciplines of the mind and had never physically worked a day in his life. Spoon-fed and killed with kindness from an early age, he was the most highly valued servant in the arsenal of the Siavash, something he truly took great pride in, yet it was exactly this that had lead to his decline from a diligent student to the epitome of spoiledness. Washing three times a week with clean water and rose oils, wearing garments tailored to his liking and eating juicy fruits even in the hottest of times, Mirza had bloomed in the atmosphere of the finer life, where the sun and moon rose and set in an almost perfect harmony with one’s wishes. [/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]Thus the flames that were invisibly burning around him at that very moment were no exaggeration in the least. If everything had gone as he had wanted, the mentioned ship would have been sunk to the bottom of the ocean from the very moment they had set sail, whilst he and his party would have flown to their destination, be it with the use of his carpet or with his magic. What had prevented this, perhaps sorrowful, event from occurring, however, were the explicit instructions of his idol and master, Vezier Wasim Al-Hakam Siavash, who had marked out the steps that needed to be taken on this trip, two of which were embarking on a voyage with the noted vessel and being guided by a person that would be waiting at their arrival location. Out in the woods without his lord for the first time, Mirza’s mission was to travel through several towns, in order to complete a list of trade deals and negotiations for the family’s company, a task he was more than eagerly willing to take up, since it would expand the Siavash’s reach and earn him even more prestige to fire at Marik upon his return. Yet, “just in case”, his dear guardian assigned him one of his other slaves, Sakhr abd-Siavash Al-Dhikh, as an escort and one of his trusted men, Utet Reseph, as a business partner, who in turn brought along his monkitten, Isoke, and loyal slave, Heydar abd-Resesh Al-Kanika, something Mirza forgot to continuously complain about, due to being pestered by so many other bothersome disturbances. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]And after two weeks and a half of sailing through the ocean in a ship rotten to its core, waiting at a foggy port for hours and a day of travelling by donkey wagon, the group ended up at Port Neworth, a shanty town for the most part, with the exception of the small stretch by the shore, where the buildings were cleanly painted, trading posts were set up and booming with people and the markets were freshly stocked and plentiful, for a country such as Baelmyst, at least. Since the driver of the aforementioned wagon made a hasty getaway once he was paid, the group was left to their own devices, knowing very little about their surroundings. Albeit Mirza wished to tail after their ungrateful donkey-faced “guide”, Utet had managed to persuade him to hold back his anger, seeing as it was getting late and they required a place to rest and calmly formulate a course of action. Naturally, it had not been easy to come to terms with the young man, but by merely mentioning the vizier and the task he gave them, the blue-eyed Enrubian was off in search of someone to show them the way. As fortune or perhaps misfortune would have it, the first person he bumped into in the narrow street they had wound up in had been a gypsy woman. A sight to see this had been, indeed. She was a tall individual, wearing a lavish dress composed of numerous colourful patches, some baring a starry pattern, whilst others - stripes, spots and so on, with little fluffy tufts hanging here or there, and yellow pointy cloth shoes with bells at their tips. Her impressively long raven hair was tied in a high ponytail, having many shiny beads, shells and stones braided into it, which allowed for her doe black eyes to be clearly visible. This encounter had repulsed Mirza even more than the first time he met the ship’s crew. While those men had been at sea for months on end, at the very least they had a filthy ocean-related scent, this woman, who was likely in her late 30ies, had a mixture of many odours, all of which screamed both swamp, but most of all, accumulated rotten trash. The stench had been so bad that the youth choked the moment he came closer to her and cupped his hands around his nose, yet her attention had already been grabbed, since he had yelled at her from afar. Of course, the woman had not been flattered by the gesture, even if she had grown used to the reactions of soap-lovers. Noting that she had become upset, Utet had attempted to talk her into helping them, whilst partly holding his breath, naturally. After a good minute of forced courtship from the man’s side, the gypsy gave in and started leading them to a place she promised wouldn’t let them down. However, when she began blabbering about having powerful items from before the Day of Mana for sale that might just interest them, Mirza could not possibly take it any longer and, by using a wind spin spell, elevated himself higher, where he could properly breathe again, his trusty kilim unrolling and coming beneath him, so that he may sit there without the use of his power. After describing the woman as “a scrape of excrements from the bottom of a bog”, the young mage blew dust in her face and flew off, followed quickly on foot by the rest of his companions.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]The party’s wandering continued for the next hour or so, before Isoke found a slum boy, who agreed to lead them to the closest inn in exchange for one of Utet’s upper garments, since Mirza hissed at the mention that they would have to give coins to someone as lowly as a kid in the ditch. What was troubling was that their location at the time had been on the outskirts of town and the only nearby inn that could take them in for the night was the Bilgerat Bride - a shady place in the redlight district, an area nonexistent in Enruba, for it was considered to be unholy, teaming with illnesses for both the body and soul. Albeit not the most comfortable residence to turn in for the night, it could not be denied that each of them was tired to a degree and wished to hit the hay, even if it was literal. Even Utet was surprised that Mirza was willing to make a compromise, but that was solely because the young man had made the conclusion that, since this country was made up of scum, even their most luxurious hostels would be no different from the pile of wood, mud and stone in front of them. Besides, a single night could not possibly be worse than two weeks and a half on a filthy ship, or twenty minutes in the company of that gypsy, for that matter. Thank the heavens, the wagon driver had been patient enough for them to take a bath at the previous town’s spring, which had notably not received plenty of visitors in a while.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Upon entering the Bilgerat Bride, the foreigners found themselves in a stormy sea of clashing voice waves. At one end a bard was joyfully stroking his lyre, grabbing the attention of the majority of the women present, at another was a table surrounded by so many loud hairy muscled men that whoever was sitting at it was hidden completely from view, on one side - a group of merry drunkards, on another - lonely souls drinking by themselves, immersed in their own thoughts. Whilst Utet was a bit overwhelmed by the overall joviality of the gathered mass of people, Mirza wasted not a minute and made his was arrogantly through the crowds, not caring the slightest bit when he bumped into or stepped on someone. Finally at the bar, the young man stood beside what appeared to be a red-haired elf woman under that long hood of hers and slammed his fist on the long wooden planks, shouting:[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]“Oi! Who calls the shots around here?!”[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]Alas, his voice unexpectedly got lost in the booming noise the rest of the inn was making. It was annoying enough to barely be able to hear his own voice, but seeing the innkeeper conversing with some blond woman a few meters away without paying him the least amount of attention was enough to make his lid start leaping. As fate would have it, he would not be blowing up the building soon enough, for there was someone who came to cater to his whims.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]“What can I do for you, sweet boy?”[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]It was the innkeeper’s mother, a chubby woman with pale skin and several notable moles on her arms and face, whose eyes seemed to have a certain spark to them, a self-confident spark Mirza repulsed.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]“I want the best room this rat hut has to offer. Two separate beds and none of your filthy special services. How much, hag?” the youth told her clearly, as he didn’t want to spend a moment longer in the presence of a being such as her. [/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]“Hmph, it depends.” she told him with a sly pinch to her voice. “I might charge your double. I might charge you in half.” This old dog had been rejected once tonight, but this time there was something her prey wanted that she could grant. “You’re a foreigner, no? Judging by your tan, you’re from some hot land. Tell me, how hot could you make my empty cold bed?” [/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]“How hot?” Mirza had a thin grin on his face as the wood beneath his feet and under his right palm that was resting atop the bar slowly began turning black. “I can show you how hot it can get right n-.”[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]“I believe this will be enough, madam.” Utet stepped in just in time to stop his companion from making the innkeeper’s mother into tonight’s fried main course meal. On the bar he had tossed a couple of coins from the bag he had especially hidden away in his garments, which stored their funds for special occasions, such as paying inns and bribing. [/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]While in reality the sum he displayed was actually two-thirds of their planned amount for bedding per night, it was enough to make the woman widen her eyes a bit and quickly swipe the money in her hands behind the bar.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]“Room 27 is all yours, boys~” she spoke as sweetly are her hoarse voice could. Whilst unchaining the key from the metal ring that had been stored in her pocket and giving it to them, she continued. “It’s a fine room, two separate beds, clean and tidy as it could be~! Your servants can sleep in the barn, no fee required~ I’ll even give you a free drink in the VIP section~.” Upon the mention of a private corner, away from the slobbery drunkards, Mirza raised and eyebrow. “It’s right over there~.” The woman pointed at a door, which was opened for a group of three, two humans and an orc, and then closed behind them by a tall red-haired freckled elf lad. “Tell Cody I sent you~.”[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]“Now you’re talkin! You better not bring me something milked from a pig, hag!” Mirza exclaimed and dashed over to the spot, followed by the rest of his party, except for Sharh, who was told to take their baggage to the the room and guard it. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]And that is how it came to be, the situation they were in. Once at the door, Cody had mentioned a fee before the foreigners explained who sent them. In turn, Utet had, by habit, reached for his regular bag of coins and discovered that a small sum was missing, causing Mirza to become absolutely outraged. In the background, another much louder uproar had occurred after a halfling had offered the entire inn a free drink, the musician had stopped playing and a drunkard’s song was washing the atmosphere clean of any sense or logic. In a flash faster than lightning, the entire building was shaking from the vibrations of movement and sound, as if an earthquake was happening. Customers yelled their orders one over the other again and again, and the fact that most of them were drunk did not make it any better, for a couple of insults and fists were already being fired from different directions. The innkeeper and his employees could barely keep up with the requests and with asking for payment from those who had already received their drink or meal, even if one of them had six limbs. The scene quickly escalated from a rumbling sea of mesmerized buffoons to a battle of the elements. In this absolute chaos Isoke, the monkkitten pet of Utet, was leaping between the moving forest of legs, biting whoever dared to step on his tail or paws, yet after sinking his teeth a bit too much in one man’s foot, the animal was given a hasty kick, sending him flying through the air and landing straight on the head of a [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]silent hooded man[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Needless to say, at this point Mirza was absolutely infuriated, a smoking volcano ready to erupt. To top it all off, the buzzing hive of drones somehow managed to push over the musician and his assistant, who in turn bumped into a blond woman, who had been waiting with two others in line behind the Enrubians for a chance to get into the VIP section. At the sight of two beautiful women falling to their knees, Cody forgot all the tension he was feeling under the sharp gaze of Heydar, the guard, and rushed over to help them, putting every drop of charm he had into his gestures and words. Forget about filling up the cup, the cup was out the window. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]“You little σ√[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]↬☣ ❉.[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]” the blue-eyed youth mumbled under his breath first in one and then in another language. “I’VE HAD IT WITH YOU!” he shouted and put his foot down quite literally. By stomping his foot hard on the floor, the wood instantly cracked from the heat and pressure, seeing as he was using his inner mana whilst doing so. Burning and turning black, the planks were eaten through by the flame hidden within them faster than any termite could manage. The line of anger went straight under [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]a blonde young man[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent] and, because of the sum of his natural mass and that of the armour he adorned, the floor beneath him instantly cracked and he fell down to his knees deep in a hole, until he finally reached the stone base below. Of course, Mirza paid him no mind at all, not once thinking to excuse himself in any manner at all, and freely pointed at Cody and yelled. “Who do you think I am, you foul red spit of a rat?! I am Mirza abd-Siavash Al-Shahnaz! Servant of the powerful Vizier Wasim of Enruba! Disrespecting me is the same as disrespecting my lord and I can get your hanged for that, ya ▓◎◹♞!”[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Alas, the rest of the bar, even those closer to the scene, when about their business, hitting, pushing, cursing, grabbing and tripping over anything and anyone that came in their path. Utet, on the other hand, had taken a step back and stood beside his servant, since he knew that once his lord’s treasure was shining, it would be hard to put out its flaming sparks before it let out its anger. Even if, by some miracle, they managed to find enough valid evidence that he was the cause of the hole, the repairs wouldn’t cost must at all. However, the man made sure he kept all of his money closer to him from now on, as losing a single coin was considered an insult from his side to the vizier, something he definitely did not want to happen again.[/BCOLOR]
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Aliquipiso was never one to ask many questions and subsequently push for answers because she knew that in time the truth would be revealed as it always was. Now simply was not the right time; however, Aliquipiso made note of the fact that the robed woman had not extended her name. This was not entirely unexpected since trust was a thing to be earned, after all. It occurred to her that the robed lady could be hiding from someone or thing. Aliquipiso had not yet taken a seat at her table and for good reason because of what she was going to say next.

As for the commotion that was brewing outside the VIP room, Aliquipiso only paid enough attention to it as was needed. She did not believe the measure of a civilization depended on how tall its buildings were, but rather how well its people had learned to relate to their environment and fellow man. The affairs of those inebriated on alcohol or ego or an acerbic combination of the two, were certainly not her own. Not to mention, larger quarry was generally thought easier to hit and offered a substantially larger prize if taken down. Aliquipiso felt that stepping out there in the disorganized fray of modern civilization to honestly assuage this spectacle would undoubtedly attract superfluous violence onto herself and others. It seemed to be the way of the civilized peoples of Germanic.

“I understand it is not in my place to say this. Perchance, I can assist you in shouldering this burden of yours. The years might have aged my form further along than most, as you may perceive, but this old wolf still bares fangs. You need not answer at this moment. Dwell on it for a time. Now, I shall keep you company if you still wish to keep mine. And if you will abide it, I should like to stay within your company after your friend arrives.”

Grandfather Kana'ti had once said to Aliquipiso that prayer was the last resort; only when one had used all their strength and substance; when all other options had been exhausted, then you should pray to the Great Father Spirit, otherwise you are wasting your breath and more importantly, your time because the The Great Father Spirit will not help those who do not first help themselves. Unfortunately, the majority of men and women prayed only for easier lives, or they offered prayer in return for an investment or reward in the next life, glossing over with prayer their vices in the current life --they are the foolish ones and the hypocrites. So after many, many years, a few nights ago Aliquipiso had succumbed to prayer instead of meditation, asking for guidance from the Great Father Spirit in the Heavens instead of the Mother Spirit of the Land. Of all the spirits, the Great Father Spirit was said to be the most imperceptible and elusive, so much so that many disbelieved in His existence altogether. The stories of Aliquipiso's people told that He was a watcher; a silent teacher, and that He seldom offered guidance to His children unless they were truly worthy of it. Perhaps He had led Aliquipiso here.
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Original poster
The old blind ratman gnawed on the stale bread of his sandwich, ears twitching at the sounds of commotion within the bar. As he comes to finish the last of the scraps, he dust the crumbs from his maw and grooms his whiskers with fumbling paws and cranes his head, collecting his cane and nose flaring. His nose was not what it once was, but he could smell trouble—scorching wood. He hefts himself up, old knees protesting and begins to tap his way along through the throng of the crowd as best he could manage. Brek’s path takes him right by the commotion near the area of destruction where he could smell cindered wood and he, luckily, avoided them as he made his way towards the bar for a drink. He tut-tuts under his breath, muttering, “Shouldn’t have done that. Oh… ah… Mages… Always wrecking the place. Heh… Cody will show them, s’pose.”

The blindman would have been unable to see the young boy’s face contort with anger as the floor splinters and gives way beneath Surak. It was hardly a distance from the women who had just taken a fall and, to the innkeep’s chagrin, someone important could have been injured. The women forgotten, Cody follows the path along the floor back to the source: the boy who had been throwing the tantrum. In a single bound, he presses a palm to Mirza’s brow. Streams of crimson energy begin to visibly radiate out from the elf as the Tair-descendant would feel his mana pool rapidly empty.

As he draws his hand away, Cody pricks a knife previously hidden on his person against Mirza’s side, “Now, listen here. I don’t give two shits who you are or how bad your day has been. You’re in our house an’ you don’t come in wreckin’ the place . You keep that temper under wraps or I swear by the Six, I’ll kick your ass all the way back to Enruba, sandsnob.” His gaze flickers briefly back to the man who hadd fallen and he sighs, “No love lost on two-bit thugs like you, but you guys pay and pay well. You alright there? Anything feel broken?”

Brek nods to himself approvingly as he listens to the goings-on, sipping at liquor. “Hum, that’s good...” He smooths his whiskers and begins to make his way slowly through the crowd before making it to a clearing in their midst. The ratman blinks his milky-eyes and taps around with his cane, sniffing before coming to realize there was a reason for the space. “Ah, that strange girl did not tell me there were so many odd people in the inn tonight,” Brek tucks his cane beneath his arm and gropes for a seat nearby the kobold, Deekin. “You smell of the woods. And if my nose doesn’t deceive me… cat.” He cradles his mead, nose twitching, “You must be some woodsman… Hunter?” He pauses and snaps, “Ranger! Yes, I bet that girl would like to talk to you. Ho, hum… Yes. She was not very impressed with me… I guess this old man is all dried up.” He gives a sad yellow smile. “Did you know there was a demon in here tonight? Strange, strange night… heh.” He shakes his head. “Reminds me of when I was a lad. Night jus’ like this.. Oh, me and um… a few others… Yes.. We…” It becomes quite apparent that he was going to divulge in the kobold his lifestory.

Brek was not the only sad soul in the bar. The innkeep’s mother, Bridgette, was more than a little disappointed with the events of the night. Sure, she made a pretty penny on the room but being rejected twice in one evening was a wound to her pride. Now, she sought out the witch, Erylis, whose potions had grown some measure of fame in the area of recent. Loathe as she was to indulge in mystical practices, Bridgette was weary of always being at the end of these jokes. Driving her first husband to an early grave with her pinched, rat-like features and a nasty attitude to match it, she needed to correct it. So, as she came to the witch, she crosses her arms, purses her lips and in a shrill voice addresses her, “Look, you can pay up your tab your friend here has run up already or you can do me a favor. There’s two young men that could do with some of your witching.” It was obvious she wanted a little revenge, especially as she begins to describe the appearances of Surak and and Mirza to the Witch before going.

In the sanctioned off area, though, things seemed a bit less chaotic. Jeremy loosens his neckerchief and removes his hat and gloves, furrowing his brow at the affairs going on just at the edge of their clearing. “How uncouth. It is good that the establishment has some sense of decency and knows how to keep decent folk separate from the rabble.”

Lizabeth coos and makes faces at Kitten before her face screws up in thought, “Finding a place where civilized folks won’t be bothered is so hard now since the Order came here.”

The sophisticated man nods somberly, “Too true. Wretched dogs, always in everyone else’s business.” Jeremy pulls out a seat for Lizabeth and proceeds to seat himself. “Jerrek, I hope you have not had the misfortune of running afoul of these brutes.”


The captain sits in his sparsely decorated office, finger rapping against the table as he stares at the individual across from him. A look of disappointment is fixed upon his brow as he digests what he was just told. “So… You have spent the last several hours in interrogation with the criminal, but he has offered up no new information?”

The interrogator grows nervous and straightens their spine, nodding sharply, “Yes, captain. The old nut is hardier than we first thought. I thought he would break sooner, but he resists. All he does is ramble that it can all be fixed and that we can help the enemy.”

His eyes narrow on the interrogator, “So his reputation is true. He is an ally of theirs. Disgusting. Their kind is responsible for the sickness that plagues this world.”

“And we stand as its only true protectors.” The interrogator looks uncertain for a moment, “You were so sure one of his proteges would appear in town. Have you heard word back on that?”

“Not yet, but they will rear their heads soon enough… and when they do, we will be waiting.”

Rain of the Night

A Devil's Prayer
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Dark Fantasy, Steampunk, Modern Fantasy, High Fantasy
[fieldbox=An Order and Preparations, gold, solid]It would have seemed that waving to grab the attention of one of the working women in the place wasn’t going to be enough. The crowd got louder by the time he actually tried to call one out, which meant he had yet to be served at all. Although this started to irritate the clearly hungry man, he would not lose patience yet. There were many ways for him to nab one of them… If these were streets filled with criminals or simply people less fortunate than his own, then they would respond to at least one item. Reaching in a pouch on the front of his belt, he removed a few coins that he began playing with. It took but mere seconds before someone beyond the counter took notice of a customer with coin in hand, waiting to be served. With tabs being running high within this place, seeing someone with actual currency certainly was an appetizing sight.

The wench came forth, leaning forward on the counter to face the man. A smirk lingered on her curved lips, her bust threatening to spill out of her tight leather corset. “What can I get for ya, big boy?” Jorrosa had given a smirk of his own as the coin became surrounded by his palm and fingers. “Some food and a mug of water…” A coin was pressed down upon the wooden surface, pushed over to be in front of the wench. Another slipped from his palm, landing beside the original one. “… If you could make it fast.” The woman quickly swooped those coins away, given the man a suspicious wink. “I’m on it, honey.” She walked off with a sway of the hips Jorrosa could not ignore.

Now that he had gotten service, he could make himself a little more comfortable. The backpack came off and was placed right in front of his feet; the best protection he had right now for his things to not be picked away by greedy fingers. He turned to the bustling crowd, listening to the notes of the bard, a soothing tune for the soul of the weary Guardian. Even if they could barely reach his ears, it still had enough impact… It had been a long time since he had been alone. Not from women, but from employers and masters. Most of his life had been taking blows and coming to the aid of those he swore to protect. The Magi. Yet, it felt like this place had probable employers who would take him into perilous journeys, which he had grown accustomed to. He tried to see if he could spot a potential client, but the crowd was too much for him to see anything.

With this, he was about to turn himself back to the counter when the call for a round all around was made. He turned his eyes to those who had called it… Seemingly a trio, or more a group of four if one included the smaller man. A round of free drinks? Well, there was certainly little he could refuse of this… But what this had caused was immediately noticed. Jorrosa could already feel people trying to squeeze into his space and get that sweet courage in a bottle for themselves… How long would this delay his order? Not only that, but the crowd certainly was getting into it. Jorrosa reached within his pack and removed two rolls of hand wrappings. He began unrolling it while wrapping it around his hand and knuckles. If this would turn ugly, he’d want to avoid unnecessary injury.

Just as he started with his next hand, he felt something on his head, gripping at his hair… His hand reached above and gripped whatever was there. Whatever he gripped tore holes into his flesh, to which he hissed painfully before it let go. Pulling it in front of his eyes, he just gave a blank look at whatever was in front of him… What kind of creature was his? It seemed to have calmed down once it noticed Jorrosa wasn’t going to break his bones beneath his hand. The Broken simply put the creature down on the counter before he continued wrapping his hand.

Fortunately, no one came to TRULY annoy him or steal his things, though the screams and shouts were truly becoming too much… The wench from earlier quickly dropped off his things, to which he swung his pack onto his shoulder and grabbed both the bowl, the spoon and the mug. There was a clearer, cut off section, probably made for the more wealthy people. Though Jorrosa was not the wealthiest man, he certainly could afford his own things, so he would just pay up if a fee was required. He wasn’t the hardest of men to deal with; straightforward and pretty honest in his doings. Now it was to wonder if whoever is taking care of this section would stop him.

Radio Jelly

Galactic Gadabout

Another pint landed not far from Salius's face--this time covering him in its contents upon arrival. The mage didn't care so much: he could hardly still feel his face anyway.

“Son of a rat. You spilled my drink!”

Oh, here we go...

A firm grip took hold of Salius's collar, pulling him straight off the stool he was seated at. Salius was close enough to his assailant he could all but feel the man's warm, odorous breath on his face. He really didn't like that. Unfortunately, Salius was much too drunk to talk the man down, and much too angry to decide it an unworthy use of his time to take the beast down.

"Actually, you spilled your drink when you came lumbering over here, you blind deck-scrubbing whore."

To his credit, it sounded like an effective enough insult in his head. Then again, he found it very hard to think about much of anything the minute the sailor punched him clean across the jaw. A series of multi-colored lights began to dance at the corners of his eyes, and--for just a moment--he briefly weighed the merits of allowing the sailor to put him to sleep. Truly, he had had enough to drink, and if he allowed himself a small victory over the sailor it would undoubtedly give him cause to celebrate which, in turn, would cost him more money in the long run.

Once more, he failed to understand this logic due to the agonizing hammering feeling inside his cranium, coupled with the copious amounts of mead he had forced down his throat for the night. It took Salius only a moment, as he reeled backwards, to make up his mind.

The sailor, who had taken to uproarious laughter with his comrades was perhaps as drunk as Salius, and so failed to notice the smaller, lithe mage as he darted towards him, dagger in hand. This time, it was Salius who grabbed the man's collar--although the mage was hardly a strong sort of man. It wasn't his brute force that held the sailor back, but instead a bejeweled blade that now rested just beneath the grog-filled seaman's larynx.

"Get your smelly fucking mouth from me, you son of a dockside tramp or by god I will prick your ugly little pig face so many times with this 'ere blade your mother won't recognize you."

Salius congratulated himself on the inside for the look of fear that briefly flickered over the sailor's eyes. He hoped he looked as intimidating as he felt.



Dear god, that moron's looks like he's going to get himself killed.

From where she sat, Crela could tell Salius was in quite a bit of trouble. The mage was.. well, a mage. He wasn't a big man by anyone's standards, despite what she knew about his skill with magic. The northern girl leapt off her seat and made her way towards them just in time to see Salius draw a blade on the sailor.

"Salius, drop it. You-" She turned to the sailor, expertly twirling an arrow before his flustered face. The sailor--and Salius for that matter--watched with drunken stupor at the young woman's skills for a time. Just as she could see the moronic seafarer was growing confused with her trick, she delivered a kick straight into his right knee. Her boot landed with a hard crunch, sending the sailor straight down. Cowed, the man stumbled elsewhere, clearly not eager to try taking two mercenaries on at once.

"You looked like an idiot. Where you planning on killing him in the middle of this bar?!"

Salius looked her over for a moment before Crela could see the recognition in his eyes.

"How... How do you know my name? You're that nosy north bitch, aye? 'Can see your penchant for finding yourself in my business hasn't changed..."

Incredulous now, Crela slapped the mage across the face just as he made to lift the last of the mug the bartender had previously spilled to his lips. In doing so, she knocked the mug form his hands. Visibly saddened by the fact he had drunk not a single drop of the brew, Salius now turned back to her, attempting once more to get out of his seat.

"What? What is it you want then? A thank you? I can handle a drunk fuckin' idiot on my own." The mage, determining there was no further use in keeping up the conversation, slumped back in his seat, idly fingering his knife while he debated going home. Crela sensed that, despite his exceptionally rude behavior, he probably recognized that he was better off having had her help than not. Now bored, and without a seat, Crela made her way further back into the room, seating herself besides the least-threatening looking patrons she could find.

One bar-fight is enough for me. Fuck this place and its moronic crowd. I'd pay to see one of these lazy slobs make it through a winter back home.

Big Goblin Bastard

The patient goblin
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Fantasy, Sci-Fi, Magical.
Away from the Grumpy Wizard

Blaine had been traveling for a rather long time, the hem of his robe faded with dust and dirt. The hood was pulled over his bald head, his face scourged with a stubble from a week without being able to shave properly. His head on the other hand was still smooth. He was riding upon his companion, Ranger, in his equine form. His shaggy mane and socks were somewhat matted with sweat. He did not ride with a saddle though but instead he rode Ranger with a simple blue cotton blanket on the steed's back. Redhawk had one hand gripping Ranger's mane for some control while his other hand was over what looked to be at first a satchel but on closer inspection was, in fact, a large grimoire. At his side, like a sword, was a black cane adorned with silver and a dragon head handle with sapphires for eyes. He looked like a man with some wealth but also someone who had abnormally amount of confidence for someone who travels alone. His appearance though would give away to most that he was someone who had power. Some may think power of wealth, others magical powers as Redhawk was not exactly hiding his identity as a wizard.

He had arrive at the outskirts of the city and there decided to dismount and walk by himself, rolling the blanket into his pack and made his way towards the city gates. It was then he had actually been approached by the child that had taken an interest in Ranger. He watched as the spirit shifted forms from equine to avian, soaring away and scaring the child. He found it quite amusing and kept on towards the gates, ignoring as much as he could the all too familiar looks of disdain for being identified as a spellcaster. He drew his cane and began to lean a bit into it as he began to walk, asking for direction for the nearest watering hole where he could get some food and/or privacy. The heavyset woman that he had asked directed him to the Bilgerat Bride but she had also told him that it would be fairly bustling at this time of day. He left her without thanks and headed to the establishment, getting somewhat annoyed already. He had little worry about his companion however who soared above the city.

The bird lowered and looked down at the streets from the roofs, keeping an eye out for his friend and scaring the local birds with his predatory magnificence. He had been temped to even hunt a rat he had seen but he decided against it. Meanwhile however, Redhawk had made his way to the Bilgerat and just the smell, the noise was already getting to his nerves. He had wished for a calmer setting to get food. He did not however wish to stay around for long but the thought of walking around in the dung smelling alleys longer held no appeal to him. He walked up to the door and he scanned the place with obvious scorn. This was the sort of place that he usually avoided but he was too tired to walk around the city to find one place that at least smelled nice. Just before he entered the tavern proper, Ranger flapped down to land on his padded shoulder, the inside of the dark grey hawk's wings a lighter color than the rest of his feathers. Blaine walked inside, not liking the commotion that was going on and with a whispered words of power and a striking the floor with the end of his cane he made his presence fully aware to anyone inside and probably some that were outside. The cane had made a sound less like that of a tap and more like a thunderclap. His presence drained the color from most of the room to become something like a beacon as he looked over at the low life patrons.

"I am tired, hungry and in no mood for any fools. I wish for quiet and calm and so help whatever god you worship I will burn this place to the ground and anyone in it if I do not get it"
His words rang with a deep basso, enhanced with the aftermath of the thunderclap before. He stood straight and confident, eyes narrow at anyone that met his eye. The color returned to the tavern when he started to go to a table that was already occupied by a trio of men playing some card game. "Leave" He told the trio, holding out his open head, a ball of sparks forming in it as emphasis, watching the nearest man scuttle away from him. When no one was at the table but him, the wizard sat down and pulled his hood back and placed his large grimoire onto the table with a thud, letting his cane lean against the edge of the table while he grabbed his pack, rummaging through it to take out two leather pouches. He opened one and pulled out a long wooden pipe, polished and well tended too. From there he proceeded to stuff the pipe with some dried foreign tobacco resulting in him puffing out large clouds of smoke through his nostrils, opening the tome on a random page and got out from his pack a golden feathered quill, a bottle of ink and then a satin purse that rattled with the distinct sound of precious coins and possibly even something more.

The hawk on his shoulder flew up onto a beam on the ceiling, keeping an eye on everyone inside the establishment.
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Maximum Weeb.
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Fantasy (Modern, Futuristic, etc.)
It was a bit annoying to have his feet actually dangle from his seat, unable to touch the ground, but he ignored the minor discomfort to survey the inn’s happenings. Nothing much happened in this cordoned section of the building, and while the main area only got rowdier, that too wasn’t of much interest. In fact, from the atmosphere it seemed like a rather good time for him to vacate the premises. It seemed increasingly unlikely he would find what he hoped to as tensions run high, purses feel light, and the flow of booze runs dry; bringing it all closer to the verge of an outright brawl.

That wasn’t to say he didn’t notice any individuals that also seemed to be a bit unusual amongst the crowd, but he wasn’t about to approach them in this sort of situation. Perhaps if it was a bit calmer he might have stayed to observe for a bit longer before he made a decision. It seemed that he wouldn’t need to though, as he just managed to catch the sight of someone clad in the unlit night sky. His curiosity peaked he slipped off his chair and leapt out of the quartered-off area, towards one of the windows. The hinges creaked and squeaked in protest to the sudden opening, almost threatening to fly off completely, but he was already out on the streets before anyone could protest. With hurried footsteps he rounded the side of the building to try and catch the armoured figure.

It would prove that he would have little issues catching up with the black armoured woman. She had been held up by the red-haired elf, Neriah and now was just a short moment ahead. The way she carried herself would suggest she was quite irate already and did not wish to be bothered.

He thought she might have looked a bit annoyed, but the armor and lighting made it somewhat hard to tell. Undissuaded, he quickly caught up to her, footsteps squelching in the damp ground, and reached up to tap her on the pauldron, stepping back after doing so.

The knight turns on her heel and faces Akade, jaw clenched and one hand clenched upon the pommel of her sword. “You are the second to slow me on my way to the captain. What do you want?”

Oh… yes, she definitely was not happy about his interruption. Still, at least she had given him a bit of information without any questions on his part. “Well, I’d like to come meet this captain now if you don’t mind? Looking for a bit of work.” She didn’t seem to be part of the standard guard that patrolled the city, so perhaps she was part of a mercenary group.

She relaxes after a beat and then nods, “Yes, of course. It is good when citizens of the world show interest in our Order.” She turns and nods down the street, “We’re heading to the viscount’s estates, let us not tarry.”

He smiles slightly as the tension drained away and fell in step with her as she led the way. “Viscount? So your Order is fairly influential or powerful? I spend most of my time travelling with caravans, so I’m not too familiar with the numerous groups in various regions.”

She chuckles, “Oh, no, it is no wonder you have not heard of us. Our numbers have been few and we have had limited influence in earlier years. In recent times, though, we have curried favor with the local government. We are not tied to borders, though, make no mistake.”

“I see. So what’s the purpose of your Order? Hunt Fiends?” He made a point to glance over her equipment at that; it was of too high quality for even the average “adventurer” to afford he imagined. Too expensive for dealing with simple brigands as well, so naturally that left either what he had guessed or a bodyguard for someone of importance.

She raises her brows as she adjusts her gloves, “We are protectors of the world and seek to restore balance; to mend the damage of the mana blight.. So, I suppose hunting fiends is part of the job description at times.”

“Interesting,” he muttered before falling silent as he considered his course of action. It didn’t seem too likely that the Order would hire outside help, but it wouldn’t be a bad idea to volunteer himself to get in good standing with the group. It wasn’t as if he lacked for money at the moment, and the group might even cover his only expenses if he worked with them. “Is the meeting with your captain something you can talk about?”

She looks ahead, silence falling for a second, “I’ll leave that up to the captain to decide. We’ll go straight to him when we get there. He might be open to investing in new potential, who knows.”

“Alright then.” Without any other questions, he simply continued to follow after her, looking up once the buildings came into sight.
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