The Crossroad Inn.

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As they set off for enemy territory, they killed a few soldiers and rested in a few towns, managing not to get killed. Still having the runes he bought, he bound one to him, and it put a tiny mark on his back, and it crumbled to dust. He did the same to Sirian, so if he died, she could still put up a fight.
 
As they battled numerous battle, and felled plenty of enemies, they became more popular to the more deadly groups. little by little, harder foes began to attack, and they held off for a good while before the fighting started showing signs of wearing them down.
 
They fought numerous battles, each fight getting ever so slightly harder along the way. With time, hey became more popular to deadlier groups, and after some time of fighting they finally started showing signs that the fighting was taking its toll.
 
Ephrehn saw the wearing-down in Sirian's armor, and decided to get her better, new ones, so it wouldn't break in battle. Handing her the new armor, he bought more of the runes, some potions, and rested.
 
While everything was going well for their effort, Sirian hid a tolling wound, one she had taken in the second most recent battle. As they rested and fought, and rested, and fought, it all became too much, and amid all the latest fighting, Sirians armor cracked. Seeing a perfect opportunity, her attaacker sturck, and pierced her body, slicing her heart and lung as the huge broadsword stabbed through blood, flesh, bone, and muscle. A fatal strike, as it were. As she snapped his neck, she fell to the ground, grasping her life greatly. She knew it was about to end. And all for nothing. Rehn cleared the rest of them out, and found his way to her side. Clutching him tightly and closely, she said in her dying breaths, "Ephrehn... *cough* I love you. Pray that all the other we've met along the way, will remember us always. *cough* Please, f-f-find.... a way to.. g-get this.... to.." Sirian fell limp, clutching a note to her friends of the inn.
((OOC Sayounara, and arigato for a wonderful roleplay, everyone. Anyone still playing in this who is currently a character that's at the inn, I leave it to one of you to reveal what the note said. Please make it something heart-felt, something resembling my time in this thread, and all the fun i've had. Arigato, minna. I love you all. X3))
 
((OOC: I think I'll wait till other players, the original ones post something. Someone might as well ask them if they are going to play or not.))
 
''N-No...'' Ephrehn fell to his knees. The woman that he loved was now gone. Completely gone. He saw the note in her hand, grabbed it, and read it. She wanted him to go back to the inn, safe. He heeded her wish, but a plethora of soldiers were running after him. As he was being pierced, arrow by arrow, he ran and ran, but brilliantly, he had a thought. He summoned a huge lightning bolt that killed all of the soldiers, and he kept on running, not noticing that the lightning bolt took a huge chunk out of his already giant range of stamina. Once he got to the inn, he beckoned everyone over trying not to sob, or cry.
(OOC: Dangit, can't think of a good thing for the note.)
 
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(OOC: technically my character is at the inn but I have no idea where to go with any of this unfortunately)
 
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(OOC: I'm leaving the thread, getting boring.)
Ephrehn dropped the note that read of Sirian's goodbye and her lovingness to the inn, and how she'd embraced death as she did life. He left the inn and wandered places, all emotion drained from him, never to come back.
 
The next morning...

Kilo awoke with a slight headache. The bed had been fine, but the racket downstairs had interfered with his dreams. The dwarf redressed in the same clothes he had worn for the past three days and clomped down the stairs in search of breakfast. The noise had apparently calmed down. Perhaps the others had gone to bed. Or maybe they were all dead...who knew?

"Any sausage?" Kilo asked the woman behind the counter as he climbed up a stool.
 
She was a petit woman past her twenties, didn't reach more than 1.40cm. She clenched with force a harp at her chest, a small harp, her slim and long fingers embraced it with power. She had a pale skin, it was so pale that made her look sick. Had a pleasant figure, a round face with thin lips of a reddish color, her hair fall down her shoulders in waves, was messy and dirty, a dirty chestnut color, somehow she gave you thee feeling of a paternal figure. As she entered in the inn she wrapped her arms around the harp harder. She almost walked in, dragged her feet, her shoulders were covered with a dirty beige cloth that reached the floor. Came closer to the counter and spoke with a warm voice. "A glass of water, cold please." She avoided to look around, no't that she was scared but rather, that she wasn't interested in no one, a glimpse of curiosity coud lead to something else.
No one asked for her name, no one seems to be interested in a dirty lady with a harp, she was nicknamed "The lady with the harp", ironically no one have ever heard her, but the rumors, the rumors say that those who have heard her play, well, they say that her fingers are a true gift from God, no other magical creature nor human can surpass her in playing tne harp, but there is a bad side of he story as well. Rumors talk about a witch that cursed her to never find peace and rest where she goes or a handsome prince cursed four generations of her's to live in poverty; well those are rumors, but no one talks to her because once a criminal stared in her eyes and he told everything he did, it is said that her eyes are cursed and show you , your dark secrets, it is said to have dark eyes as night that even Gods are scared to look into her eyes. Well, are just rumors and who dares to trust this kind of rumors, no one who is doing his job.
She stared at the water and with a sip the glass was empty, the petit woman lifted the hair that fell down her face, she had two beautiful dark eyes, were of a beautiful dark, stars were glittering in her eyes. "Another one,please." She murmurs her words slowly as she puts the money on the counter.
 
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