"Are you alright?" there's a look of concern upon his face; "I'm afraid we don't have all the resources, to help. They are upon Mittens balloon."'And hers.'
"You appear injured. Well done, the girl is safe and we'll try to see if we can find her mother." he adds persumptuously. Bryn looks around to the others, "Mittens can you lend your amazing skill to this ailing gentleman." he says with awe to the Helmet-cat.
"Can someone help him..." Bryn looks down at the man; "it... or whatever."'I cannot control what I did for Charlene, it'd be to wild and unpredictable.'
There's a slight dismay in the corners of his eyes when Leoian regards him with a touch of disdain. But the arrival of the new-comers drag that from him as he moves with concern towards the bloody pair. 'He didn't?? Chew...' immediately dismissing the thought. Momentary distraction means that the small man goes forward to help the youngster before him.
"Sir, are you alright? You appear rather..." Bryn tries to say as the construct slumps before him. The mans' words reverberate in his mind; "Slavers." He looks around to the others darkly.
The musician smiles gently at Charlene, the manager virtually reading his mind. However he had no blade on him, just the studded wristband upon on muscular fore-arm.
Cautiously he watches her fuzzy, awaiting the reaction - all the while not ignoring his own creature. "Interesting, I wonder if they are native to the forest? I've never seen anything like them before, although I'm seeing many new sights recently." momentarilly his azure eyes flicker to Finwa, a wicked smile pulls at the corners of his sensual lips.
"Shush little one, I won't hurt you." Bryn's soothing voice gently resonates, whilst he grabs a lock of his hair and flicks it in front of the creature.
"What is it? You want to eat it, or nest in it?" he addresses the creature as one might a small child, trying to ascertain if it understands him. Wrapping a protective arm about the little scamp he looks on at the commotion in the room.
Bryn looks to the men and the irascible Mittens; "Certainly you are upset with these little mischief makers." he says with a wry smile, trying to tickle it under the chin despite the paws pulling at his hair.
"I can see you point, Mittens." he says kindly to the great entertainer, despite a hint of disagreement to his voice. "Though you wouldn't want to get an upset tummy."
"Anyone know what these are? Could they be like the friend the Mayor has.... more fuzzy however." he muses.
"Well it wasn't the sort of furry attack I envisioned for tonight. he says cradling the scrittering creature. "A few too many claws." he says with a wink.
Bryn plucks the little creature from the tangles of his cascading locks. Gently he rubs the furry belly with his thumb whilst holding the torso softly. The claws still hold trailing strands of hair, whilst the musician looks enrapt at the fuzzy beast. "Who are you, little one?" he asks in a warm voice, as one might to a child.
Bryn smiles at the cute little creature, though it slowly slips away as the creature drops the food. He moves forward gathering the food from the floor and climbs up towards the hole. His clothes taut against firm muscles, reveal light flashes of skin and alluring curves concealing a powerful frame.
Then he moves over to another cute little lady, stroking her soft shoulders. "Well have to be up early, so we can get to the village and the balloon." stalking towards the sleeping room he flicks a dark waterfall of hair across his shoulders invitingly.
Bryn for a second imagines Mittens batting a head-sized fish, then the movement catches his eye and breaks through the cute thoughts.
"Hello, little one. Do you want some of the food?" the Norseman says in a saccharine voice, usually reserved for talking in a non-threatening manner. "Smelt it did you?"
Braking off a small section of meat, not Mittens - of course, and some vegetables he places it in a bowl. Laying this cautiously towards the creature, then Bryn steps back.
Bryn serves up the various dishes and sides of the food stuffs in their wooden bowls. A veritable buffet, crafted with Charlene's manageral skills, to temper his own flair.
The fare is not abundant, but there's enough for Turbles' appetite. "I thought it best to ration it slightly." Bryn reasons.
Then before Mittens he places a dish of fish lightly seasoned and well cooked. "Isn't Leoians' catch brilliant?" he tries to push praise upon it's rightful owner, the person who managed to get the meal.
'Mittens will be alright?' he frets knowing that they need to get to the balloon.
"Thank you Leoian, you are so knowledgeable." he says using the wood for the fire. "I just meant the laser goggles of Mittens. Provided it wouldn't use any of her helmet-power." However, the tall dark man is grateful for the halflings knowledge to save them.
The fire having burst to life under his ministrations, slowly being fed until it provides a nice even temperature. 'It should be hot enough in the 'tent' tonight.'
"We'll manage, I've cooked in worse conditions." Bryn says confidently; "You can do a few magical things with mushrooms. But as Ms. Oftenseen says, we keep things separated so we can pick and choose."
His hands skilfully wielding a blade, starts to prepare the dishes. Moving carefully but with speed.
"Are you alright? I know how much wyrding takes it out of you." Bryn puts his arm around the exhausted Finwa, letting her lean against him. "Now, why don't we sit you down here."
He gently picks her up and places her on the verdent ground. "I'll take of you, later." he promises gently.
With a turn to Charlene; "So, boss shall we get started upon the food. We have plenty of dried grain and some smoked meat from Hugh, even a few fresh fruits too." he considers the options. "A light stir-fry, with some rice?"
The Norseman starts to prepare the fire, his eyes glancing occasionally to the tired cat-lady.
"Laser Eyes! They should be able to heat rocks....unless they make them explode." Bryn concedes looking to Mittens with awe. "Although, I suppose a great woodsman, like yourself might be able to hide the sight of the flames?"
The Norseman lowers his head, he feels that Leoian is still confused and dislikes him; "Diurnal is when you hunt at dawn and dusk like certain owls and bit cats." He brushes his feet across the brush.
"So how about we camp for the night and set off in the pale hue of pre-dawn. Those that have good vision can lead us, with the wane illumination." He leans over to Finwa; "You could lead me anywhere."
"Thus we should pass the Gomorktooth's village at dawn, when they'll either be asleep or just waking. Depending upon their habits....of course if they're diurnal then we have trouble." he puts a hand to his chin feeling the light stubble; "What colour were their eyes?" he says almost absently, wondering if they are like owls.
"Then we can find Mittens balloon." he turns to Varga, "Hows that a safari in a balloon!"
Bryn had spend part of the afternoon, talking to Varga. Trying to make the enthusiastic man "mark out" more... In fact it was joyful to see the look on his face when Bryn started the first few bars of his big song "autumns fall".
"Nope Charlene, I cannot see in the dark either. And the forest gets very dark." Bryn continues; "Maybe could one of you heat up some rocks? For our fire, as we couldn't have open flames if the Gomoktooth can see in the dark."
Bryn has edged closer to Finwa and Leoian, ostensibly so that their greater vision on the dark could help protect him. Though if that meant he got more harmonious with them, he's not one to complain.
Seeing that Finwa was fine; the Nordic man agrees with Belzac. Obviously the musician was very dedicated, probably very skillful too."I'm just glad that my primary instrument is my voice. My fretting upon my guitar is..." he shrugs with a false modesty; "I'm sure you can make yours sing."
The dark haired Norseman nods to Belzac; "Lost my guitar a while back, I was going to just sing for my supper." The physics talks slightly go over his head, although he understands the outskirts of the concepts.
However when the newcomer recognises him, Bryn throws up the horns with a soft sneer of recognition. "Thanks man, great to meet a fan. This should be wild."
His eyes go wild as Leoian jumps in front of Finwa. "Maybe now's not the best time to cop a feel? Later?" his tone soft and joking although their is an underlying respect for the halflings' courage.
Realising what could have happened to Belzac; "I remember those nights, with my band... good times. Your guitar, acoustic?" he says with a teasing smile.
Although it might be that the Gomoktooth may not fly, still Bryn keep's protectively close to Finwa. They could always swing down from the trees, Tarzan like.
Bryn quirks an eyebrow at the ruckus; nodding approval at the line Charlene takes.
"As we know you are universally famous celebrity." he says with some awe to the helmet-cat. For the norse-mans admiration of the genius is slightly perculiar; given his distatse for authourity.
"Oh Leo that's such a kind gesture. I'm sure any sprite like Datarila would find Hugh a superb friend." Bryn says warmly whilst he walks with the group out of the town. Finwa's brushing against him is rewarded with a soft touch of her delicately furred shoulders.
The Norse mans mind goes back to the sun-dappled forest of his homeland, thus a small smile slips across his visage. "The sky? They can come from the sky?" his tone is concerned, hoping not to meet any of these beasts.
Subtly he moves forward so that Finwa stands in his shadow, just in case. Her short tail brushing against his legs rhythmically as they walk.
Under Charlene's scrutiny he flicks back an ebony cascade, pushing his hair behind an ear with a little smile. "Yeah, he has done so much for us. I wish I could repay him with more than a meal."
Looking to the woods beyond the town Bryn whispers; "So Leoian, I place myself in you hands. To lead us to the camp?" The tall Norseman looks around the group; "Finwa has the maps, Belzac has been through the area, Leoian has the woodland knowledge, Charlene the skill at arms, Turble has a sense of the land, and Mittens is Mittens." the last word holds deep respect and implies a dozen different roles rather than a lack of such.
As Hugh tells of his family, tears slowly form in the corners of Bryn's azure eyes. 'Poor fellow, to lose loved ones...' It brings back memories of his own companions, captured and deceased. Though used to melancholy the singer put on a firm countenace.
Later that evening the Noreman finds Finwa, whilst they clean the dishes. He dabs her nose with the foamy liquid playfully; "So, we'll be off soon. Pity, I would have loved to spend more private time with you." his voice playful; "Oh, well when we get back..." it holds a note of promise.
Then he leans in and whispers softly, his nose nuzzling her pointed ears;
Finwa:
"I've been thinking about my power..." he starts softly, slightly hesitantly. "If I can feel what others feel... form a connection." his words grow slightly bolder as he tries to communicate his feelings.
"Well, if we were to..." he pauses, voice becoming the merest whisper upon the breeze. "be joined. Then I cold feel what you experience, learn what you like, enjoy your pleasure."
"It'll mean I can focus on your pleasure all night long" the words roll from his tongue like honey.
He turrns away slightly embarrassed, before finishing up and going to sleep.
~~In the Morning~~
Bryn looks completely refreshed, any hint from the fight long since disappeared. The night in an actual town has done him the world of good, he looks to his companions. "Bet you are pleased to leave here Leoian?"
"So off to Hugh's for a peaceful tea? Then see if he can find somewhere to sleep and set off for the mountains in the morning." Bryn says, with a faint red mark high upon his cheek.
The shout surprises the Norse man, but then seeing the muscular barkeep Bryn realises how he keeps peace in his bar. 'Might is right?' he thinks ruefully.
"Yeah, Belzac (?) and the rest of us may deign to do this." he nods to the bearded fellow. Then he looks around and sees Finwa and Leo canoodling under the boughs of a tree. 'Good to see they are taking this in their stride.' Bryn thinks jumping to conclusions.
"Whoa, there Turble. That's quite a nip you have?" he exclaims to the ferocious being.
Bryn turns into the punch, there's a heavy sound. A slab of meat hitting a counter, the tall man is rocked. Blinking away the blow; he smiles. "I've seen children hit harder than that. Are you going to apologise to the lady and gentleman now?" his tone slightly exasperated.
He glances at the smaller pair, a red mark upon his chiselled cheekbones.
Bryn looks to the man the almost hit the cute but slight pair; "Watch where you are going mate." he advises carefully.
His head slightly distracted; 'Guitar, and they seem like relics. Is it as Moorcock predicted and time is cyclical....I hope this doesn't take a turn for the Jerry Cornelious - I haven't nearly done enough drugs for that.' He looks to the stout fellow, with a slight nod, completely ignoring the oaf he threatened.
Bryn puts a hand to the landlords shoulder, a heavy palm and a solight 'friendly' squeeze. "Now I am sure you are a reasonable man cannot you see that this fine fellow has lost his instrument." he says softly, a tightness to his voice betraying his annoyance at the injustice.
"Now, my friends and I are eaving in the morning.... but mayhaps we can come to some arrangement." he says persuasively.
He looks to the tavern owner with a shake of his head, 'This is the type of landlord I've encountered many a time. Trying to make a profit of struggling musicians. Undoubtedly, they try to make money from the fame of the ones that make it - despite the Land-lords best discouragement.'
Then he addresses the heavy-set publican; "There's nothing wrong with a Harp, or a harpsichord. A magnificent counter-point to a heavier sound. You need the occasional respite from the pounding thrum of music, getting people to drink from the bar."
"You came past a Gomoktooth encampment? Mr???" Bryn queries the stout musician kindly; "What instrument do you play?"
Bryn looks sheepish, remembering how he upon occasion treated his manager; 'Well they should have ensured the sound-check guy didn't have a pace-maker. That was hardly my fault.'
Looking on at the coomotion in front of him, Bryn thinks about interrupting. Considering it for nearly a whole second; "Excuse me, sir. What's the ruckus?"
Bryn watches the beautiful cat-woman walk down the road, her soft hand in his.
Trying to lure his mind back to the topic on hand. "So we will need some supplies. I'm sure we can trade with Hugh or on the market, for your magnificent bowls?"
Soon they arrive back Hugh's house, the elegant but practical building before them. "I did promise to make a meal for Hugh and his partner."
Bryn looks around slightly confused by all this talk of his illness and strangeness. He was used to be thought of as special, but not in this way.
"The forests, I would have though Leo." Bryn replies to the statement of the halfling. "In our world the Fey live in the Hollow Hill in the forest. Attuned to nature, you may be able to find them in the forest we are to visit?" The ebony haired man says thoughtfully, trying to help his friend.
"Well, I suppose you are more used to the technical words like 3-2 Tri-oxyglycerin, than the arcane; like a Gomoktooth." Bryn says placatingly to the beautiful lady. "I will accede to any request you make." he leans forward and places his lips upon her hand in a formal kiss. "I will see the doctor."
"And Turble we would be honoured if you would join us, we haven't seen many locals." he says to the gnoll with a nod.
With a smile at Finwa's lingering gaze, subtly moving to achieve the best profile for her viewing. A warm streads in his chest, that these people care about him. 'Darn, I'm being selfish. Turble is half-starved, he needs more care than me and...' His train of thought us derailed by Finwa's tease, followed by a dropping jaw at Charlene's words.
"I just feel a bit air-headed, sorry light-headed." his words light but fumbling. "Mittens' Balloon is more important."
"I'll...I'll be fine." he forlornly looks from Charlene to the bobbing hoverboard then back again. "Mittens is right, as always. How can we fail." he tries to put all his confidence into his voice.
"Always thinking ahead, Charlene." Bryn nods to the maps and supplies that she took, his rock-star memory being terrible and unobservant.
Bryn is still a bit non-plussed by the gnoll and all the things he has found out about the land, so different to his homeland. In many ways better, but in some it makes him feel out of his depth. Then Mittens announcement devastates him, face going ashen. 'She has only a fortnight before...' The Nordic man doesn't question his attachment to the cute cat, despite his dislike of authority figures.
Ghost like he rises at being dismissed, whilst Finwa finds his hand the world stabilises. The comforting warmth, the light fur sends a tingle up his arm. A world seems to open up in his mind as Bryn seems to feel the delicate connection open up between them. But like the remnants of a dream whilst in bed upon a Sunday morn, the sensation seems to slip away.
"We'll find the Balloon." he affirms as much for his peace of mind, as the others.
'Poor Charlene, we've been here over 36 hours. To have a libido so low.' he thinks quietly, eyes flickering to Finwa. Leaning back in his chair, he taps his full lips. 'Well she is very independent, like all good managers really. I'm sure she can make her own arrangements. However this is problem. Not just; the fact that with few women - a cutie like Finwa will have too many suitors.' He taps his chin away from that line of thought. 'No, the important thing is to find Mittens balloon.'
Bryn winks at Leo as he calls him a rival. But he smushes back in his seat as the shy Datarila makes herself aware. 'At least the Mayor has a companion it can be sorrowful being alone.' His gaze flickers to Charlene for an instant.
Hand trailing upon the floor, he thinks more upon the situation they are in. The astute mayor and the search for the balloon.
Managing to pull his eyes away from the beauteous Finwa and the gnoll, straight to the elegant Mayor. There's still a sparkle in his sapphire eyes.
"I'm sure she can protect herself, I would not presume." his tone caring; "However, I would prevent injury to her at any cost."'I even have an idea, how I can restore her tail to it's full glory.'
Swinging out a presenting hand; "Then of course there is the genius, the glorious Mittens. Whose balloon we are looking for."
"Turble, do you play any instruments or cook?" Bryn wonders out-loud.
As Finwa crouches down beside Bryns chair her heckles risen; he puts out a hand and skilfully strokes her behind her pointed ears. "It's alright." he tries to reassure her. Taking the new arrivals in his stride he nods as the Mayor discusses things with the gnolls 'owner'.
'Shocking, slavery and malnourishment....' his thoughts and vision trails off as Finwa moves towards the creature. Watching the lithe feline movements, the sway of her hips and the feminine lines; causing a smile upon his face.
Thanking the receptionist for her kind help, with a little squeeze of her hand and a soft smile. Bryn subsequently leaves following slightly behind the others; but he catches up with them just as they enter.
Naturally using the light to show off his best side, the sun glistens off Bryn's handsome features as he observes the Mayor lost in thought at Leoians hurried speech.
"Mayor Marbro?" he adds a light shocked catch to his voice; "Someone so young and beautiful, to be Mayor. You must be very skilled." Keeping eye contact with the raven haired lady, he bows. "Whilst I am just Bryn, your humble servant." honeyed words slide from his lips.
