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Valessa listens somewhat impatiently to Ruuz’ answer – he’s really not giving much away – distracted by a familiar tune from the Minotaur – she actually quite likes this song, and is starting to consider belatedly taking Beren up on his earlier offer of a dance, fortified as she is by a little alcohol, when Beren grabs her wrist – “I believe we are in trouble.” Valessa quickly looks around , trying to see what has alarmed Beren, then joins the general chorus of the table – “What is it?” Her hand seeks the comforting grip of the dagger at her belt, and her glance goes back to the water, wondering if it has something to do with the shape she thought she saw before.
“… which in time, of course, led to the establishment of the Kingdom of Galifar,” Valessa hurriedly concludes, realising that only Brick is still really paying attention to her – and she finds his (it’s?) focused attention a little disconcerting. “Wait, Ruuz,” she says, catching something in the conversation. “You’ve got a lead on some artefacts? Age of Giants? Listen, I might have some skills you could use – if you wanted to take on a partner… We should talk.” She glances at Beren, trying to convey that she’s not disregarding his warning – but this might be the break she’s been looking for. The changeling has a patron, if she can get in on this, a lot of the groundwork and resources are already set up, which takes care of the things she doesn’t really know much about – yet.
“Yeah, you’re right, we make a good team. To be honest though, I don’t know that I’d be much use if it came to a fight – despite the archery lessons. I mean, I can hit a guy where it hurts, but…” She trails off and shrugs. “Anyway, I’ve got no problem sticking by you if things get rough.” She pats his arm, then turns back to pick up the thread of an earlier conversation with Ruuz and Brick. “Daelkyr? Well I’m not sure how much I know of the creatures themselves, but it was an invasion of them and their minions from Xoriat that effectively ended the Hobgoblin empire in Khorvaire, paving the way for…” Her history lesson drones on, and is probably quite boring to anyone not really interested in the topic.
“Do you think something’s going on?” Valessa looks around at the laughing, dancing crowd, the commotion up on the upper deck. “Something more sinister than all this I mean.” She glances at her half finished drink, beginning to wish she had not chosen this moment to let her hair – and her guard – down. Is Beren just getting paranoid, or is she soon going to have an opportunity to put that weapon training to the test?
Valessa is about to launch into an indignant tirade at Ruuz’ comment about “seeing her tied up”, when her attention is distracted at the word “Daelkyr”. They were discussing Daelkyr? What sort of party was this. She turns to catch Beren’s eye, and as she does so a flash of movement from the sea snags her attention. What was that? Sahuagin? Their captain had negotiated with a tribe of sahuagin guides on the way over from Sharn, but she knew that the creatures were not always friendly … the sleek green body she had momentarily glimpsed certainly reminded her of one of the aquatic humanoids. She leans over and puts her hand on Beren’s forearm. “Did you see that?” she asks quietly, gesturing with her head towards the water.
Valessa glances sideways at Beren and raises an expressive eyebrow. “Yes…” she replies slowly to Ruuz. “Yes, it does.” She looks around at the crowd, and the tethered waitresses. “So that creep Ein wouldn’t even need to hire me. Just make sure one of his hired changelings got a good enough look.” She unconsciously adjusts the neckline of her tunic. “No wonder he was so free with his coin,” she mutters, and starts in on her second drink.
Valessa raises her hand in greeting to Beren’s shifter friend, then turns to critically appraise Brick’s scored and dirty carapace. Raising her voice slightly to be heard over some sudden raucous laughter from a nearby group, she asks “Were you damaged in the war?” – just as the noise nearby dies down, making her question sound unnecessarily loud – and probably rude to boot. She quickly looks around, hoping she’s not blushing … and turns to Ruuz, trying to change the topic. “Anyway, that thing you did,” she draws a hand over her face in a vague gesture, “looking like me. How closely would you need to study someone to do that? How long can you keep it up?” She hasn’t known all that many changelings – nor shifters or warforged for that matter either.
“That’s alright,” Valessa murmers as Beren turns away. Then, responding to Brick’s question as she leans against the table; “You’re blunt, aren’t you? Okay, I can work with that. I’m Valessa.” “So,” she says, settling back against the rail and half raising her glass, “I’m here, I’m determined to enjoy myself. So what’s your story?” She rolls and nods her head, indicating Ruuz, Brick, or both, smiling in return at Beren as he gets back to the table.
Valessa looks warily at Ruzz and the proferred chair - she isn't sure she trusts this person yet, especially after the look alike stunt. "Well ... my name is Valessa." She turns back to Beren. "What do you think Beren? Shall we join them? Who's your friend anyway?" She peers over his shoulder, looking for his companion. Normally Valessa would make up her mind herself, not wanting to seem like she is beholden to another, but she is still trying to tread lightly, wary of Beren's feelings and not wanting to lose her only friend in this place.
Valessa turns to look at Beren, and rolls her eyes in a mock theatrical manner, then flashes him a quick grin and a wink. She’s never been much good at apologies, but she hopes that he will gather her meaning. Then, hearing the changeling’s tone towards Beren suddenly change, she grabs the stranger’s arm. “Alright, enough with the macho posturing. I get it, you’re both tough. And I’ve just gotten off a ship from Sharn alright, so enough with the hair.” She turns back to Beren, releasing her grip from the changeling’s arm. “I think you were right Beren, this is a party, and I wasn’t really wanting to do anything fun was I? Well,” she gestures with her mostly empty glass, “I am now. Do you want to join these two? Or whatever you want. If I get another few of these in me, I might even want to dance!” Hardly missing a beat, she looks back at the changeling. “And you haven’t answered my question.”
Well into her first beverage and about to start on her second, Valessa looks up at the sound of a female voice talking to her – looks up, and starts in surprise, seeing herself looking back at her. As her mind scrambles to catch up, she peers critically (if somewhat stupidly) at her mirror image. Is my hair really that unruly? Do I really hold my eyebrows in that position? “Follow me,” the other her states, and turns away, changing form – into the handsome man she saw earlier – the changeling. “Hold on just one moment,” states Valessa loudly, angrily, standing. “What on Eberron do you think you’re doing? You can’t just steal someone’s appearance! You can’t just steal my appearance! And not even get the hair right…” She advances on the changeling, then stops as a thought comes over her. “Wait a moment,” she says, the anger draining, slightly, from her voice. “Could any changeling impersonate me like that? How closely would you – they – need to study me?” An unpleasant thought, related to Ein’s earlier proposition, is beginning to occur to her. At that moment she notices Beren standing nearby, mouth hanging open, staring at her. “Beren!” she exclaims.
Valessa blinks in surprise at the new waitress, her earlier half-formed suspicions having been driven completely out of her head in the past few minutes. “Ah, sorry, I didn’t mean to shout,” she says, looking the woman in the eye and smiling weakly. “I really need a drink … maybe two … maybe three. Something with some kick, please.” She pulls out her last gold coin and hands it to the waitress. “Whatever this will buy my three of. I won’t need ‘em all at once, but keep ‘em coming.” She lowers her voice, speaking now more to herself. “I guess I’m going to have to enjoy this party after all, even if it kills me.”
“Wait, what? That’s not –” begins Valessa, but it’s too late, Beren has already walked away. Yes, he was a shifter – so what? She was a human, the guy over there was a changeling, the musician was a minotaur. So what? It wasn’t like he was a woman trying to make her way in – oh …. Something began to occur to the explorer, but rather than finish the thought, and feel guilty, she chose anger instead. “Ugh. Frag him then. This is what happens, I open up to someone and I get hurt. And I passed up on some good money to spare his feelings too!” In her worked up state, Valessa was of course ignoring the fact that she hadn’t wanted to earn that money. She stormed back to the table. Here she was, in Xen’drik for the Hosts’ sake, and rather than feeling like an adventurer or an explorer, she felt like a damn extra in a performance of Middle Menthis Finishing School. “I need a drink,” she muttered. “Waitress!”
Staring in shock at the shining coin resting on the table, Valessa was momentarily torn. Damn, they were paying platinum?! Maybe she should go after him instead … but no, she’d be damned to Xoriat before she let herself be tied up and treated like meat for money. And besides, Beren was her only friend here, and curse her secretly good nature, she couldn’t abandon him. She was pragmatic enough to pocket the coin though.
Flashing Ein a venomous look – now look what you made me do! – Valessa turns to grab Beren’s arm. “Wait, Beren. Er … you’re not going to guilt me into dancing with you that easily you know chum,” she says weakly, trying to make a joke of it. Her voice softens. “Look,” she says. “I know you were trying to help. And you were – helping I mean. But I really don’t dance so well. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so blunt – but you know me, right?” She looks back at the dance floor. “Um … let me buy you another drink,” she says, with a sinking feeling as she recalls the state of her purse. “Is that that waitress I spoke to before, over by the tall warforged and the changeling?”
The smirk falls from Valessa’s face at the mention of dancing. And it had been going so well! “You what?” she blurts, rather inarticulately. “Dance? Er, Beren, I don’t really dance…” Not without being much drunker than this, anyway, she thought. “I’ve got all my stuff,” she gestures to her pack, and bow, getting a rather absurd picture of her and Beren dancing around a big pile of their combined gear, “and besides…” her voice trails off, but she flicks her eyes in the direction of Ein, trying to indicate in the gesture – I don’t want this guy to see me dancing! Actually, she could dance a little, without too much embarrassment, if the music stayed slow and she concentrated on her steps. But she would rather not share with Beren her secret love of Andurian folk songs right at this juncture. And with the fast paced music that the beast-man was currently playing … well, she was a lithe and well formed young woman, but she had a tendency to swing and shake perhaps a little too much when trying to keep up with such tunes.
Valessa turns her head slightly towards Beren and gives a quick wink. By now she considers the man a friend, and is not adverse to accepting a little bit of help – or at least backup – in this situation. Besides, on the off chance that things should turn nasty, she could really use the backup – she still wasn’t much good in a fight, despite her training. “Welcome back Beren,” she says, somewhat sardonically. “Ein here was just offering me a job – one that patently does not interest me. I’m an explorer and a scholar, not a man’s plaything. I think he was about to be on his way.” She turns back and smiles humourlessly at Ein.
Valessa turns and gives the man a withering look. “No,” she says forcefully. “I am most certainly not looking for employment.” (ignoring the yawning emptiness of her purse.) “What is wrong with this town? You think that any pretty girl not in the company of a man must be a whore or a doxie, or somehow in need of protection, or needs to be paid for, or kept? Hmmm?” She puts her drink down and advances a step. “Well tell your boss, no, I don’t need a job, I don’t need ‘help’.” “Besides,” she adds, noticing that Beren has returned and is standing, smiling, nearby, “I’m not dining alone, I’m here with a friend.” She nods towards the shifter, and shifts her head, beckoning him over. “Just a friend,” she adds, raising a warning eyebrow to Ein.
Noticing the altercation nearby with the changeling, the woman and her father, Valessa stifles a smirk. She puts her notebook back in her pack, and settles back against the rail, nursing her drinks and looking around with renewed interest. Ah well, money troubles aside, might as well enjoy herself. This is a party after all. Maybe she should just get drunk, if her remaining funds would allow it ... a few more blissful hours of not deciding anything.
Out of the corner of her eye, Valessa notices that the changeling now has some woman fawning all over him. Shameless! The warforged still stands awkwardly nearby. As it seems that the waitress is not going to provide further details, Valessa reaches into her coin purse to pay for another (non-alcoholic) beverage – and is dismayed at the dull clink of coins. Taking a glance into her purse, she curses softly under her breath. Where did all her money go? She would have sworn she still had another ten or more gold pieces, but no. Damn, that meant she would need to make a decision on what to do sooner than she had hoped – or at least go crawling to the University enclave to find accommodation. Perhaps she should stick with Beren, she thought, looking around for but not seeing the shifter. He seemed to have money, seemed to have a plan. She was no hunter, but if she wanted to be a serious explorer – well, she’d need to learn, and the shifter had skills he could teach. It was the whole killing orcs thing she wasn’t so sure about. Sighing, she paid the waitress another 3 silver peices, and asked “So? Details?”
Valessa starts in surprise, and looks around again, trying to see if she can figure out what the girl is talking about. Turning back to the woman, and keeping her voice equally low, she whispers "I'm sorry? What do you mean? Do you mean...." her voice trails off as several possibilities begin to occur to her.
Valessa looks askew at Beren at his offer of a meal. “Nice of you Beren, but I can pay my own way, right?” She inwardly winces at the tactlessness of her words, but she hopes that Beren knows her well enough by now to not take offense. “Best hang on to your money Beren,” she says more softly. “You’re probably going to need it in this place.” She looks up in some dismay at the Tethered Wench. “I won’t eat much anyway.”
As she and Beren wait in line to get onto the boat, she tries not to stare at the Giant bouncer. It’s strange – she’s studied giants, amongst other things – for the past couple of years, but has never really had the opportunity to see one up close. As cosmopolitan as Sharn is, you don’t get giants walking the streets, at least not in Menthis. Having seen one up close, Valessa is not sure she wants too many repeat occurances of the opportunity. They’re just so … big.
Valessa stares in some shock at the scene before her, particularly noting the restrained, almost naked serving girls. “House Ghollanda certified my left foot!” she mutters. “Oh, someone needs to hear about this!” Despite her assertion, she is somewhat cowed by the event – some of the University parties she attended were pretty wild, but here she feels out of her element; the giant, the singing minotaurs, the naked female flesh, the press of bodies, the myriad races … Noticing that Beren has ordered some food, she does the same, speaking to the waitress somewhat defiantly, looking her straight in the eye, unlike many of the other patrons. She makes sure to order a cheap, non-alcoholic drink. While she’s certainly not adverse to some hard liquor, this is a place she wants all her wits about her.
Seeing that Beren is following up his usual obsession with orcs, and making a bee-line for a small group of the hulking humanoids, Valessa makes for a relatively quiet spot against an outer rail, near, but not too near, the “elite” end of the boat. Resting her drink and the remains of her small (but quite good really) food platter on a nearby timber bench. She reaches into her pack, pulling out a notepad and a charcoal pencil, and begins scribbling away, drafting a self-rightous letter of complaint to House Ghollanda’s ethics committee. She looks around, and listens to nearby conversations (though the hubbub of voices and the minotaurs loud music make this difficult), but does not try to initiate any conversations herself unless approached. She tries very hard to project an aura of busyness, hoping not to be approached.
Nearby, she notices a handsome man being rather familiar with one of the waitresses, but Valessa looks away before he can make eye contact with her. She smirks somewhat when the waitress rounds on him, admonishing him for his eager hands, before the man is accosted by a very tall, somewhat rusty looking warforged, She cannot hear the pair’s conversation, but suddenly realises that the handsome man is in fact a changeling, as he shifts through several forms. Huh. Typical.
Could work Beren. Don't flatter yourself though chum, we drink, we talk, but I ain't getting close enough to worry about your breath. Oh, and hanging out at a place like the Tethered Wench is not my idea of a pleasant evening either. I'm sure I'll be suitably offended when we get there, and will have to really work very hard not to cause a scene...
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