Attend, attend! For behold the legend of these souls who tried to create a kingdom from dust. Their doom to be remembered, their destiny to be forged. All those who would master their fate, listen and learn.
The Stolen Lands may once again be claimed...
With mournful tears is paved
The long road to greatness
The path to glory made
Safe by bitter anguishFor each lonely tale told
Hundreds lost to cruel Time
No memory of their deeds
No songs of which to rhymeYet heed you now this tale
Which before you is laid
A story of fate forged
By blood and deed and bladeDestiny in the stars?
A story all foretold?
Only the gods can say
Of what shall yet unfoldThe victors tell the tales
Or so the rumors say
Then hear their words yourself
And so begins our play
The day winds down in the city as the sun ends its time in the sky. The fiery orb descends behind ominous dark clouds that approach on the heels of the road weary. The storm seems to have followed the travelers coming into Restov, a harbinger of the troubles left behind by those who would seek a fortune far different from what fate has allotted them. For some, destiny is a path they follow from birth to death, seemingly blessed and given the strength to overcome what obstacles life presents them. For others, destiny is a cruel foe determined to break their spirits, and only by clawing their way from the pit that is their existence will they finally stand in the light of the sun, splendor and glory for all to see. Even as the travelers arrive the first drops of rain fall as if fate itself would render its displeasure at these upstarts who would dare to break from their lot and defy what has already been decided for them.
It has been a long, long road, and each of the travelers has faced much trouble and turmoil to arrive here in Restov. Asking directions of the City Watch and those citizens now on their way to their homes after a full day, the travelers come to find the Land Charter Office, but sadly the office has already shut its doors for the arrival of the evening hours. They see each other for the first time, not yet knowing they will soon become intimately acquainted as fortune and fate swirls around them like the winds of the approaching tempest trying to pull them apart before they can gain strength from one another.
An inn with a tavern is nearby just a ways up the road from the sturdy government building. The sign shows the image of a dragon seemingly asleep, with archaic Hallit proudly proclaiming the name "Dragon's Rest." An armored knight seems to be laying at rest atop the dragon's chest...but is he plunging a sword into its body out of sight of the viewer? Must be the shadows and the storm.
Aside from the inn, a few dark storefronts look gloomily on the falling rain while one still seems to have a lamp burning in its window. Another adjacent government office The Crossroads Income and Commerce Division has several lights burning in its upper offices as clerks continue to work bleary-eyed into the coming darkness. Otherwise the travelers find themselves alone together deciding what to do with the night as they wait for the Land Charter Office to reopen in the morning.
In the rain, bundled against the weather is Llewyn. He stands, average build, average height, but the way he carries himself emanates a radiance of greatness... or maybe that is just how he would have you view him.
I look about the other travelers. Measuring up who else might be on a similar path. Looking back at the closed door I speak,
"Suppose the fates connive against us. I think I might head to that Dozing Dragon. Surely the office will be open tomorrow. Fate can slow my feet on the road, but even they can't halt the sun!"
After trying the door, the slight youth stands with the hang-dog expression of one unjustly rebuffed one hand upon the hard-wood door of the land registry.
'Closed, it was foolish to wait so long until getting to the offices. But trying to find this place after last night...' Ali thinks reproachfully. The first spots of rain, heavy and leaden, hit in the middle of the forehead making a circle in the grubby visage.
"I'm sure it won't be too late, tomorrow.... with some luck." Ali replies with a touch of apprehension, turning to face the stranger. "Dozin' Dragon, I take it's some establishment, not a torpid lizard... errr reptile. Or whatever those things is meant to be."
"... thus based on the powder on her finger, her frequent unexplained absences whenever we reached a settlement and the amount of jewellery she wore despite not having another income source, among everything else I presented, I think that she was selling some kind of illicit substances in the settlements. What do you think?" Miyari asks of her companion, trying to keep close to the buildings for at least some shelter from the wind and rain.
She stops when she sees others at the door of the Charter Office, "Closed. I said we would be late for today, clerks of any stripe do not work so late into the evening."
Her eyes then settle on the others gathered. She smiles politely and then says, "The Dragon's Rest? Probably where we should go as well, then, as it's quite nearby. I recall passing it on the way over."
Miyari's companion was a short fellow who wore an overcoat and a large brimmed hat which covered much of his face, the parts that were visible were not very pleasant, was he some sort of deformed gnome? It's anyone's guess what this woman was doing with this ugly little shrimp.
Keeping pace easily despite his short legs Glen answers Miyari "That woman? Nonsense the powder on her finger was cosmetic not narcotic, and rather than another income source she had another jewellery source. Did you not notice that she always wore the same while travelling, but would change certain pieces just before her absences? Especially the ring on her left hand, never without it in the caravan never with it when she'd step away from the group. Recall that hunter that would set off to forage whenever we reached a settlement? They made every effort not to so much as glance towards one another while we traveled. It's painfully obvious she was stepping out with him."
Glen peered out towards the closed office and watched the water drip off the brim of his hat "Yes, no sense in waiting out here. We'll return in the morrow." Voicing his agreement with Miyari he immediately started towards The Dragon's Rest.
Brokk sat at a table in the Dragon's Rest drinking, again. This time he wouldn't drink so much he thought to himself.
He had arrived the night before but the charter office was closed. After he had knocked once he decided to knock louder. Knocking turned to kicking and punching and yet no one had answered. He started to think and like everytime he thought one thing led to another and he was in the Dragon's Rest drinking. He doesn't remember much after that.
He awoke the next afternoon to find he had slept most of the day on the floor of the bar. The innkeeper was surprisingly friendly and quick to bring him food and drink, free of charge. Judging from the coins left in Brokk's this generosity was well deserved.
It was immediately after his meal that Brokk realised the time. Rushing out the door he realized his mistake. He was late again. He wasn't the only one this time at least and so he found his set again and ordered another round. This time, I won't drink so much.
"Take good care of him," the tall, cloaked man had said to the stable hand, before passing him a handful of silver pieces. He had not known Aeon for very long, but there already existed some degree of attachment to the ungulate. Even after everything he had gone through, the reason behind such sentimentality was lost on him. With one last nod, Armin tugged on his hood and began his foray into the rainy streets of Restov.
Upon close observation, the people from whom he asked directions might notice the faint patterns of lines beneath his skin, or the odd glean in his steely eyes. Of course, the most the average observer would glean from these details was that Armin was not entirely human. Still far from the truth, but it was the very impression he had intended to give everyone. He would be surprised indeed to meet someone who knew what he was. And if he did meet such a person, then it could very well be a cause for concern.
The Dragon's Rest was the tavern he had been pointed to; it had already been a foregone conclusion that the offices would be closed, this time of night. Humans needed their sleep, after all. Before entering the building, Armin stared at the sign for a moment, its political meaning lost on him.
The place would surely burn down, he thinks to himself humorlessly, before stepping on in.
The previously empty streets seem to burst with humanoid activity, if briefly, now that the travelers must find a place to wait. A few shopworkers exit out of the stores while some of the government clerks begin leaving the offices from side entrances trying to get ahead of the rain. Some briskly walk away towards home with hoods pulled up or hats pulled low to block the ever increasing drip of water falling to earth. Others dash over to the Dragon's Rest, either in good spirits or weary from a day's work. People begin to appear from down one way or the other of the muddying path. Citizens and visitors scurry to their destinations now that the storm is here. A few have the swagger of the spoiled rapscallions of the noble class and their silver spoon merchant class friends, most students of the Aldori schools or wishing they were.
The tavern has filled up quickly, and the tavern servers already have haggard looking smiles as they rush to greet the new customers while getting the orders in to the human man and female gnome manning the kegs. In one corner of the room a group of government clerks are excitedly celebrating a successful audit completed. A couple of full tankards in front of some empty seats indicate they are waiting for further additions.
The corner opposite the bureaucrats houses a fireplace already crackling happily even if the raucous conversation is quickly escalating as angry words and hateful speech seems to be trying to compete over the din of the other patrons. A large group of the young and foolish Aldori students and their lackeys have taken control of the plush chairs and chaise placed before the fire, and two in particular seem to be in a heated exchange. The younger of the two red-faced glaring bare-teethed at the sneering expression of a man who's every word drips with disdain.
A couple of gnomes and a half-elf looking and smelling freshly bathed sit dressed in simple clothes and are already tucking into hearty bowls of stew and a platter piled with breads and cheeses. Their table has by far the most pleasant cloud of aroma surrounding it.
Close by them, a well-manicured man dressed in simple but elegant clothing sits at a table idly twirling a goblet of deep violet fluid while his male half-orc companion in leathers occasionally makes comments in a low tone, guttural and indecipherable through polished white tusks. The pair seem to be watching the swelling crowd, their expressions neutral. Both have brightly polished Aldori blade hilts erupting from the top of beautiful black scabbards on their hips.
Many other colorful and unusual folk seem to be about sitting alone at the bar or standing around the outskirts of the room. Brokk is one among many oddities filling the Dragon's Rest this night.
Outside in the streets, the other travelers have all set their sights on entering the inn and head there as the winds and rain begin to pepper their faces and heads with rain. The dwarf Brokk has just entered into the door when three figures exit The Crossroads Income and Commerce Division building just past the Dragon's Rest and turn their steps towards the inn as well.
The one called Bentello snickers, his sneer deepening. "Oh you poor merchant boy, Ruvius. Why don't you just swim back to the river waters where your mother spawned you, and your father used his nets to gather up your brothers and sisters to sell for my family's fish fry? Leave Nevyl and her honor to one whose sword is better than some fish seller's son's rusty steel."
Ruvius practically snarls and his hand goes to the hilt on his hip. Another man grabs the young man's hand and casts a furtive glance at the watchful pair across the room. "Not inside, Ruvius. We should just go..."
"No!" Ruvious shouts. Lifting his hand from his sword and pointing it at Bentello, he speaks through his teeth with venom, "I challenge you, Bentello Lodarth!" And with that he spins on his heel and stalks out of the inn, his friend hurriedly trying to keep pace.
Brokk can see Bentello make eye contact with a weaselly faced young man lounging in one of the plush chairs and a haughty elven woman seated on the chair's arm. They all share a smile of victory and then the three of them get up and follow the angry Ruvius outside. The other Aldori students begin talking excitedly, some with more concern than others and move as a group to witness the dueling spectacle about to unfold.
Armin reaches the door of the Dragon's Rest and receives a reprieve from the rain as the short overhang of second floor blocks the oncoming precipitation. Just as he reaches for the door handle, the door is flung open, and a dark haired young man with a furious expression bursts through bumping Armin to one side. Another man following him mutters a cursory apology to the android without ever looking at him and moves to follow the first man.
The dark haired man moves past the other travelers who were about to reach the door behind Armin and moves to the center of the muddy cobblestones representing a rare patch of paved road. The Dragon's Rest must do successful business indeed. His friend tries to placate the angry youth, but to no avail. Even as the rain plasters his hair to his head, he strips off his cloak and tosses at to the other man.
The ring of Aldori steel is heard even over the patter of rain, and the few other humanoids on the street gasp and quickly change direction or pick up their pace.
"I'm waiting, Bentello!" the man cries at the door of the inn. He spreads his arms wide, and his blade sparkles in the dim light, its edge sharp and deadly. "Come face me and we shall see which sword will pierce Nevyl's honor and which will defend it!"
Turning to face the pair of investigators, Ali is intrigued by their exotic accents and strange tales of far off adventure. However in the confines of the city, there's a nervous tension to the youth and Ali decides not to press the issue.
Hesitating to move on as the rain starts to slap on the cobbles, for if this many people were late for the offices then surely many may have already fulfilled the appointments. A twinge of disappointment and nervousness fills the stomach at the thought.
The loud voice of the Aldori youth cuts through the reverie, Ali starts at the commotion and with a grunt of effort picks up a backpack from the cobbles.
Ali nods to Llewyn and then towards the commotion in the square, advancing uncertainly across the square to near the buildings to where the fight is taking place. However sensibly the gangly youth keeps to the shelter of the overhanging eaves of the buildings.
Brokk swallows the rest of his drink in one big gulp, takes a deep breath and then orders another. His attention turned to the events developing before him. Nothing interests him more than one looking for death the way he does. He truely believes the man outside doesn't have a hope in the world to win and for that he raises his tankard in salute.
With all the new smells and sound, along with the distraction of the rain, Miyari isn't paying as much attention to her surroundings as she ought to be.
While en route to the tavern, she introduces herself to the others present, "My name is Miyari, from Issia. My friend is Glen, hailing from around the same area. I am guessing you are here with much the same intentions as we have?"
Armin merely blinks when he is pushed aside, too surprised to be properly annoyed. The second man's apology was a small consolation, but was substantial enough for the android to let the matter pass. Some petty squabble. None of my concern, he thinks, moving to enter the establishment. Only the distinct sound of a blade being drawn gives him pause. Tightening his lips, he looks over his shoulder. Not so petty, perhaps.
Damnable curiosity compels Armin to remain where he is, to see if perhaps this "Bentello" would answer the man's challenge. He moves only to avoid obstructing the doorway, his attention otherwise delegated to the dark-haired man.
The keen eyes of the investigator don't miss much spotting the two huddled in the alley it takes him but a moment to decide they seem to be the most intriguing, and most likely to present the best mystery.
Taking little notice in whoever Miyari attempting to introduce he takes the courtesy to at least notify her that he's going off "Glen has found something to investigate come if you want, but try not to spook them or if you're not interested maybe you could find us a table."
The two in the alley seem rather uneasy of those passing by Glen didn't want them to run off before he could talk to them so he decided it might be best to keep out of sight while he approached.
The sudden commotion in the street and the call for confrontation has distracted the young woman and the child. As of yet, neither have noticed that Glen saw them or now approaches. However, from what he can make out, it sounds as if the woman is whispering something...
"...get inside...looks dangeruh-...-ools are dueling ageh-...chance to avoid being seen going in."
Miyari receives a small brush off from Glen, probably nothing she hasn't experienced before, while Armin and Ali both pause to see how the potential duel unfolds. Llewyn seems to be musing on the storm and winds and was only slowly making his way to the door of the inn as this all begins to happen. Since everyone else seems to have ignored Miyari's attempt to introduce herself, Llewyn now stands as the only humanoid really around receiving her greeting. Inside the inn, Brokk orders another round firmly believing the winner of this fight has already been decided based on his assessment of the duelists.
The three clerks see the spectacle yet continue to approach the inn. One of them lets out a small snort of derision at the dark haired man full of rage standing in the street and getting wet. Another merely shakes her hooded head. The three's complacency suggests this is not an unusual sight before the doors of the Dragon's Rest. Their entry to the inn is prevented as a finely dressed and evidently genteel young man but older than the dark-haired youth exits out of the door. A weasley faced man and a female elf come to stand near but behind this gentleman while the rest of the entitled younglings stream out of the doorway and take places under the overhang Armin discovered to stay out of the rain and yet be positioned to watch whatever happens next. Another snort, but this time louder, comes from the same clerk who then impolitely pushes the weasley friend out of the way, and the clerks enter the tavern.
The weasley man staggers and his face twists into murder, but the refined student gives the man an impatient glance which quells the death into a sullen musing on such matters. Then the well-dressed man steps to stand just under the edge of where the building blocks the rain and calls out to the man in the street.
"Ruvius, dear boy, you'll catch your death from cold out there. Take this rain as a sign. You can just let the water carry you away back to the fish seller's stand your daddy first opened. Save yourself the trouble of losing to my Many-Armed Marilith Strike and live to know Nevyl will be treated as well as any other young flower picked from the garden."
Many of the younglings snicker. Weasel chortles the most loudly, and he exchanges looks with the man who must be Bentello. Bentello smiles smugly back as his flunkie acknowledges his wit.
The powderkeg in the street with the sword already drawn is less than amused and angrily slices his blade through the air, splitting drops of rain so neatly there is a small cascade of water done the steel. Only very few present most likely have enough of a warrior's eye to have noticed, and in his current emotional state, the young man Ruvius certainly has not.
"Draw your steel, Bentello! Your blood will wash away the filth of these lies you tell about Nevyl. She would never let a viper like you into her heart, nor any other place!"
Bentello sneers then he steps out from under the overhang and his stance changes subtly. "First blood then?" In a single smooth motion the Aldori dueling sword he carries is near silently taken from the ornately engraved scabbard on his belt. The man's competence is obvious to even the untrained eye.
"First blood! Last blood!" Ruvius growls back.
Bentello smiles deeply at this and casts a look at Weasel and also the elf over his shoulder before setting the flat of his blade on the shoulder opposite his sword arm, hilt pointing towards Ruvius.
"So be it then. First blood, last blood."
The anger on his face fades slightly as Ruvius also assumes this stance guided by training, but whether this will be enough to stem the rage is anyone's guess.
"Good evenin' m'am," Llewyn tilts his head in deference to the feline woman. He couldn't recall having met one of them before, but then, there are so many faces in the world. "I'm Llewyn of Issian. For now at least. Who knows where the wind will blow."
He takes note of the pair in the alley but ignores it, he knows better than to get his nose too deep into others affairs... until of course the small man begins to make his approach, then the business in the streets pulls his attention.
"Busy night, I suppose?" He gestures towards the duelists and begins to move towards the men and the inn.
"I do believe we'll see someone die tonight, and all over nothing . Oh I've been there my friends, though the maidens of the fields are more akin to fruit of the orchards or vegetable in the garden. Flowers are rarely for eating." he says loudly, but to none in particular.
"This hardly looks fit for any story worth carrying. Perhaps if the men were from rival families and their aggression came from misplaced love they bore one another. Star-crossed sabers and all that. Life was so far from the stories. How will I ever craft the great tales of Man if man is so simple?" he thinks.
It is as the clerks approach the inn that Armin is momentarily distracted, something about one of them grabbing his attention. He was not entirely sure of whether he trusted his own eyes, and yet a number of emotions welled up in him. Could he be so fortunate? He holds his gaze on the clerk curiously as the trio makes its way into the building. Armin briefly contemplates following after them, but is quickly reminded that he is not alone beneath the overhang. He looks over at Bentello and his companions, sizing them up and listening as he trades insults with the younger man.
Nevyl... They are fighting over a woman? he pieces together, narrowing his eyes slightly. As worthy a cause as any, he supposed, but there seemed to be more to it.
Seeing the satisfaction on Bentello's face, Armin looks to Ruvius, wondering if the man knew what he had gotten himself into. The android remains where he is for the time being, still merely a spectator - one among several, as it seemed.
'What a bunch of blithering, over-privileged numpties... this isn't like the tales me mother told us. Well I suppose it is, a duel over a lady. So what is the best way to resolve this... Ali thinks, leaning back against the wall of the pub.
"Daft bugger." the youth's voice wavers and cracks, in the manner of teenagers. "He'll get himsenth killed, that Benito probably tupped the lass just to incite t' duel... well not 'just'." The words are soft and light not really meant for any others, having been so used to the woodland with the need to internalise thoughts.
Brokk, sighs with the knowledge of what's about to come. Stupid boy is on his way to an early grave. But it's not his fight. He looks at the Armin, standing in the middle of the tavern, "Hey you! This seats open, might want to get away before you get yourself involved in this ridiculousness." He points to the seat next to himself. "It's a damn shame. Make no doubt-o-bout-it but it's no shame o' yours. The name's Brokk."
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Llewyn of Issia. Funny that, despite coming from the same region, I had to travel all this way in order to meet you," comments Miyari.
She watches the startings of the duel, listening to the men argue.
"Yes," she says distractedly, "It all seems rather petty to me." She looks around for Glen but, having lost track of him, she returns her attention to the duel.
"Hello" Glen says casually as he emerges from the shadows near the two in the alley. He's hoping he's looking his least grotesque or at least enough so that they aren't completely terrified. "Glen saw you and felt he should come investigate, he has somewhat of a nose for mysteries. Are you in need of assistance in solving one?"
Considering what he heard before he showed himself Glen attempts to reassure the two "I don't think you're in any danger from the duel over here, and with the crowd focused on them it's quite unlikely you'll be seen... by ones other than Glen that is."
Armin turns his head, surprised by the dwarf's friendly advice and invitation. He spoke truly, of course; there was no reason for him to watch, much less interfere. If duels such as this were as common as they seemed, then it was not in his place to step in. He spares Bentello and Ruvius one last glance before stepping into the establishment, brushing past the former's associates if necessary. The duel's conclusion seemed obvious, at any rate. The android takes the seat offered by Brokk, acknowledging the gesture with a curt nod.
"Armin," he says simply, the introduction as plain as it is short, "I presume this kind of thing happens often in these parts." The latter is more a statement than a question. Despite conversing with Brokk, the android's attention seems divided now that he is in the tavern. His eyes sift through the patrons, searching for the clerk with the strange eyes.
Brokk takes a gulp of his drink and orders one for his new acquaintance. "Aye, stupid kids don't know a woman with honor doesn't need it defended. Stupid kids. He'll get what he wants though. And it's not her honor." He takes another drink. He looks in to his tankard sadly remembering the days when he was the very same antagonizer. The good ol days "So what brings ye out to these parts? Where are ye from?"
Armin nods in acknowledgement of Brokk's words, not necessarily agreeing with them. He was well aware of honor as a concept, but not of its particulars. Only that men were apparently willing to die for it. The android stiffens slightly when the dwarf questions him, but only briefly. The queries were harmless enough; he was just overreacting.
"Numeria," he answers simply at first, as though the name of the place alone should suffice for both questions. Perhaps it would for some people. "Brevoy is as far as I could get from there, for the time being. At the moment, I suppose I am a prospector.
"How about you? I confess, I have not met many dwarves in my time."
Brokk didn't hesistate. "Honor." He replied. He followed up with the story of the boy in the pub, miles away explaining that the charter he had found was a fabrication and it took some rather "aggressive" diplomacy to find that this was in fact where he needed to be. "I suppose ye'll won't find many dwarves in Brevoy. These people don't take too kindly my kin. It doesn't take a wizard to know yer not from here, taking company from a dwarf."
Honor. Of course. A wry smile tugged at Armin's mouth. He suspected he would be hearing the word a lot around these parts. When his drink arrives, the android takes a deep sip from it.
"I am no wizard myself. But perhaps it is not as bad as you say."
The building tension as the duel is about to get underway is almost palpable, the heavy rain just makes the air more oppressive and cloying. Trying not to think about what is to about to happen, Ali overhears Miyari's introductions to Llewwyn.
Turning to the pair Ali says in a tentative voice; "I'm Ali, by the by."
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"... It appears the two men are incapable of action. Has love warmed their icy hearts, stayed their angry hands? Does common sense outweigh the slight against a lady's virtue?..."
I suppose city folk are all slow to action? Maybe its time I head in and get a drink.
The well-manicured man leans forward to whisper something to the half-orc. He briefly points to the now empty corner of the room vacated by the young noblets and then waves towards the door. With a single nod, the half-orc drains his cup and stands. Checking that his dueling sword is loose, he strides confidently towards the front door and exits. The gentleman glances around and makes eye contact with the roguish looking clerk. His eyes narrow and sparks fly between the two as the man's expressionless face displays hints of a frown while the scarred clerk sneers and raises his glass to him. The well groomed duelist turns away. He raises a hand to gesture to a waitress and points to his goblet.
Some catcalls and griefing come from the young crowd as they watched amused, only a few looking concerned at all. When the door opens and the half-orc steps outside, most of the younglings don't really notice. Despite his size and imposing stature, the humanoid simply moves to a well shadowed section of the overhanging second floor and watches the two dueling men as they fight in the rain.
Recovering from her surprise, the woman lowers the dagger slightly, but she continues to watch Glen warily. "Well Glen, I apologize in advance for being rude. I doubt we will be sharing our names this night. You would do well to stay away from this mystery."
Llewyn notes the half-orc making his entrance, thinks on whether or not he wants to see the rest of this or make his way in doors. He decides he'd rather not be around if this get's out of hand and goes belly up. He had legitimate business to see to in the morning, he'd rather not be delayed in a jailor's cell.
"Well, boys, I'm sure you'll settle your tension one way or the other tonight. Best of luck to the both of ya's!"
He turns and heads into the Dragon's Rest.
In the Streets
"Aye, it seems to be kicking off now." Ali says to the retreating Llewyn. Shaggy locks flick across Ali's face as the youth shakes their heads at the catcalls, the duel might be folly - but for the people of this land to take their lives so lightly, citizens of a similar age too.
Ali takes another step back beneath the eaves, but keeping vision upon the duel and focuses on the plan.
Armin raises his cup to take another sip, not being terribly discreet in his surveillance of the clerk trio. Or of one of the three, rather. He considers approaching them directly, but quickly dismisses the idea as folly. While they were together in such a crowded place, he could hardly hope for a secretive meeting.
Glen looks at the dagger drawn on him, then back towards the woman "Glen did not mean to startle you, but you had the air of one that might flee had he openly strode towards you, and then he would not have had the opportunity to talk to you."
The short goblinoid notes the eye peeking out towards him and looks curiously back at it before continuing in response to the woman's last remark "An investigator that stays away from such appealing mysteries when they are presented before him will have quite a short, and rather boring, career. If you're reluctant to give your names that is of little concern, though it would not do to be calling you woman and girl... Glen will call you Sally." he turns his attention to the girl peeking out at him from behind the woman "And you little one how does..." pausing a moment to pick out what he thought might be a good name "Arielle suit you?"
Looking about for a good spot where he won't be spotted from the street, and give them away, the pint-sized investigator takes a seat on the lid of a relatively clean refuse bin. "Now do not worry yourselves, Glen does not mean any harm, quite the contrary. Tell him your story Glen will listen, he may be able to help, he is more capable than his small stature would indicate."
In the alley
"Sally" starts slightly as Glen calls the girl Arielle, and she glances quickly at the little waif who continues to watch the short investigator with a steady gaze. The one eye Glen can see seems to sparkle in the low light. There does not seem to be any fear, but a watchfulness is certainly evident.
As if Arielle's non-reaction to Glen was a trigger, the woman lowers the dagger and slowly places it back in a hidden sheath in her sleeve. In the dark, Glen is able to see the woman's face lose emotion as she peers at him closely. The clang of steel and shouts from the crowd are heard in the silence as both "Sally" and Arielle remain quiet.
After a moment, "Sally" sighs. "Well, we need to get out of this alley and off this street. The spectacle out there should allow her and I to enter the Dragon's Rest without too much fanfare. If you can find us inside, perhaps you may learn more."
Before Glen can respond, the woman clutches Arielle to her, and they simply vanish!
Miyari observes the conflict between the men for a few moments further, not really knowing what's going on for the simple fact of having been too distracted to pay proper mind.
"Ah, yes, I have a table to reserve..." she says, following after Llewyn and letting boys be boys (when being boys means murdering one another on the streets).
"Look harder and it may be ye are the one taken outside next." Brokk says to Armin. "Just saying, I'll drink with ye but a fight isn't what I'm here for. Not while I am this close." He takes a drink from his tankard. Why'd he have to over sleep the entire day?!
In the street
Miyari feels almost like she's trying to move through a large jelly, the very air resisting her as she propels herself along the ground. Her arms and legs don't seem to be responding like they should while her mind raced along as normal.
A woman carrying a young girl steps out of the alley way where Glen had suddenly disappeared. The woman does not seem to be at all disturbed that everyone else around her and the girl are moving much too slow. In fact she glances around and seems to be carefully examining the people as she carries the girl to the door. She opens the door of the Dragon's Rest with almost deliberate slowness.
While all of this goes on, Miyari can see the girl watching her. She clutches some kind of doll or toy to her chest, but Miyari is unable to make out what it is. The young urchin's eyes sparkle and cast light around like the facets of a gemstone. A rush of something runs through Miyari's mind. There is illumination in the rush...some understanding just out of reach...
The frozen moment suddenly comes to an end. Miyari realizes the woman has taken the girl...Arielle...into the inn. The rush of the rain on Miyari's face is almost jarring as is the sudden noise as the two men clash their swords and the crowd mocks and shouts.
Everything is normal again.
Just ahead of Llewyn, the door of the Dragon's Rest opens and a strange shadow seems to pass before his eyes. The door remains open now. Behind him, Llewyn hears as one of the men cries out in pain. Someone has scored a telling blow.
Ali can see that Ruvius fights with some skill, but Bentello is very likely his better in the dance. Ruvius takes a lunge he ought not to have in this weather, and his foot slides on the wet paving stones. Bentello twists and drops his blade low. His steel pierces Ruvius' side close to the armpit in a shallow stab probably not more than an inch or so. Ruvius cries out in pain and jerks back trying to regain the footing the rain had taken from him.
"You need not worry. I have no intention of fighting anyone," Armin says reassuringly, though he continues to watch the three clerks. "But if a curious gaze is all it takes to start a fight around here, then perhaps being a dwarf is the least of your worries. No, I think we will be able to enjoy our drinks in peace."
Wincing at the exclamation of pain from the young accuser, Ali takes a step back. Shoulder blades against the rough masonry of the building, 'That seemed quite the lunge, the wound not too deep. If it restricts mobility there can be only one outcome, that's why if they must use such bravado then they should act to first blood... Ali's train of thought rattles as hastily as the cut & thrust of the duel. '...unless Benito's poisoned his blade. It wouldn't surprise me if so, he set up such a fight & clearly means to win.'
Ali is apprehensive and practises caution, which may be a natural result of not wanting the pain of the link. Or that Ruvius' spirit seems a vivid crimson & more than a touch murky, laced with streams of darkness, to the young oracle.
"Aye, enjoying drinks is my only plan for tonight!" Brokk proclaims with a raise of his tankard and then finishing what is left. He wipes the remains from his beard and motions for another round. "Ye know how ye can tell a place is Dwarf friendly?" He asks but leaves no time to reply having given this monologue before. "The tables and bar. As a human, ye probably don't notice but places friendly to my kin will have shorter stools and tables or perhaps a ledge at the bar. This place not so much. It's one thing to a human but some may take it as disrespect to always be looking up at humans. Before ye start crying foul. The waittress is indeed a gnome but without a ledge ye'll always be looking down on 'er, also why the prissy youths come here. They like to down on us!" His tone is more matter of fact than anything. One might notice that he has not paid any attention to anybody in the tavern, present company excluded.
So the hideous investigator found himself alone in the alley interesting little trick though if they were capable of a vanishing act like that it was even more curious what they were doing skulking in the alley.
The conversation was rather brief, but Glen did make a few interesting observations the interesting light in the young girl's eye was interesting, and her relationship with Sally seemed curious as well. Glen had originally assumed she was Arielle's mother, but that does not seem to be the case their interactions didn't seem like those of a parent and child Sally seemed more like a protector or bodyguard seeming to take her cues from the younger girl. Intriguing indeed, he would have to learn more so he'd best meet up with the two in the Dragon's Rest. He set off back out of the alley to see if Miyari had picked out a table for them.