Lokien grins as he begins to chuckle, a chuckle that bellows out into a full blown guffaw.
"No lassie, my new friend here I would say requires someone smarter than this simple dwarf in order to keep up. She's a knowledgeable scholar but I must confess on being unable to understand some of the things she speaks off, Maybe you can shed some light on this?"
He gestures in wide arc that emcompasses both Ladrengil and DM Kana before widening his arms to include Teflin too. An act that threatens to unabalance him.
"Also I'm interested in those butterflies, are they friends of yours?"
As her vision adjusts to the lessened light of the tavern's interior, the young woman finally catches sight of the butterflies fluttering about within & the smile broadens into a grin of delight. "How wonderful!"
"Oh... the Bylthrixes brought them." She points off at an empty space. "Don't you see them?"
As overcast as the day is, the strange chill in the air as the tavern door opens is unmistakable. Those near the entrance feel gooseflesh rise along their skin as the air chills slightly, faint mist coming from the mouths of all in attendance as the small crowd near the door parts without truly realizing why.
A slender, wraithlike figure seems to glide forward, a filmy cloak moving against the wind almost as if under water as it wraps around her form.
Alongside her, almost unnoticeable, the dust tracked in by other patrons stirs as if by another pair of feet to her left and a little behind her.
As she lifts her head, grey eyes,of an almost crystalline clarity gaze out of a face at once both youthful and ageless, filled with an awareness far beyond imagination.
Those eyes pass over the assembled group occasionally seeming to stop on nothing, nodding to something unseen.
With an almost floating fluidity, the eerily beautiful young woman practically glides across the room to find an empty table, sitting in a chair that seems to have pulled itself out for her she waits to capture a barmaid's attention.
Lokien looks confused.
"Nay Lassie, I'm afraid I don't see anything. Maybe I'm not seeing things right? Too much time in the forge and soot may be affecting my vision."
Ladrengil looks in the direction pointed by the woman in full plate, trying to understand something about that place, but dont lose much of their time and turns back...
I cant believe this girl would be able to see through dimensions, an illusion maybe, looks like most likely an insane one, ummmm, but nothing to worry about, I hope so.
...her face shows that she has no interest in "madness"´s Meri.
... and continues, looking at the dwarf...
"Sorry sir dwarf, I didnt intend seem complicated on my speech, I was just intrigued by the study and knowledge of the true researcher here, Teflin. But, I also appreciate the arts a good blacksmith, as you I have endearment for my weapon."
The elf put her scimitar on the table, an ancient type of sword, all covered with an elaborate elvish fabric and adorned with typical carvings of Kyonin.
"Her name is Aimee, means Beloved Friend in elvish."
...looking into the eyes of Meri, and turning a glass of wine, Ladrengil question ...
"You´re actually seeing something here? What specifically would be a Bylthrixes, dear? Describe?"
Arabeth continues to sit with Sothonin, though she watches the teifling's interactions.
The fluttering butterflies also keep her gaze entranced.
Finishing his meal quickly the armored figure in the corner watches the interactions in the room and desides to take a chance. He drops his visor and hefts his burden over his shoulders. With a definitive step he strides over to the table housing the tiefling. Drawing his helm off in a smooth quick motion he stands for a moment before asking, " Room for one more? Next round is on me." His tone is even and civilized with a hint of an accent that marks him as seemingly a native of lastwall. Those who observe his trek note he moves to never have his back to the halforc. The pauldrons of his breast plate mark his as a follower of Abadar.
The tavern door swings open to the arrival of a tall, pale skinned Varisian woman.
A scarf hangs around her neck, woven with the symbols of a healer and midwife. Taller than most women and many men, her dark hair chased with silver, and her face is creased with the lines of years of smiles and laughter.
With deliberate purpose she strides to the bar,
Whiskey, if you please, and something hearty for the belly.
When served, she downs the liquid in one smooth and steady motion, then request a second.
While waiting for her second drink, she openly appraises the unique lot before her, attempting to decide on company or a warm place by the hearth. The road had been cold and her joints ached.
Arabeth returns Vashti's gaze calmy when it passes over herself.
Gaze pierces Arabeth Disguise Dc,An Angelkin, how blessed this place is! An elven lass, sharp blade there. Dwarf, Gnome, nother couple of humans, is that a goblin? And Chokes on her drink for a moment after spotting the horned ...man...thing...person...
Arabeth leans upon the bar and rests her chin on her hand, still watching the latest arrival -especially after her obvious reaction to a certain personage-,
*'Well...things are about to get interesting....'* She thinks.
"Note to self...possibly avoid the whiskey..." Arabeth murmurs.
While waiting for there food Deacon observes the new entrant to the tavern and as her outburst was obvious directed at him he'll turn ever so slowly towards her and smile, showing white pointy teeth.. "My my, Well it seems i still surprise someone with my looks.." "Obviously you are not a well traveled woman.. I will not hold your ignorance against you though and soon I will set you right.. I am a Tiefling.. A spawn from the union of fiend and a human.. A most vile relationship as you can imagine.. And while I might look scary you can assure yourself that I am.. But only some of this is derived from my lineage.. The other parts come from ignorant, stupid humans and other races who would as soon call me monster than give me a chance.. That is another story and one that im over.. The real reason for my scariness originates from my patron, The Lord in Iron.. He takes no prisoners on the battlefield and neither do I.. And now that you're well learned as to what I am you'll be less likely to embarrass yourself in the future.." He pause and turns back to pick up his food.. "Names Deacon by the way.." Turning around he heads back to the table with the food he ordered..
Roman has been sitting quietly after being corrected about the nature of Lokien's hammer. After Vashti's outburst he starts laughing.
Wow. I'm glad I'm not the least worldly one here.
A priest of Gorum...
That's never good.
The petite sword's-woman casually makes her way in between the newcomer & the aggressively educational 'gentleman', whispering to the notably taller woman. "'Tis likely best to pay him no mind. I'm sure he's heard that & much worse in his travels. Why else to heed the call of such a...
prickly deity?"
Regaining her shattered composer with great effort and will, Vashti opens and closes her mouth several times before words spill out in a tangled rush
My most humble apologies...Deacon. My small village, in fact my home, sees many travelers, but in all my years, never before has such a...a...a unique person as you passed before me. Allow me to buy a round for you and yours, please.
Arabeth watches Deacon return to Sothonin's and her table. After Deacon has settled, she comments.
"Well...you certainly seem to have a way with ladies." She smiles as she indicates Vashti with a tilt of her head.
"Thank you M'lady!" Arabeth calls as yet another round is delivered to the table.
"It's a good thing there's only a short walk to our rooms tonight, with the rate the mead and such is flowing," She mutters, "Thank the Goddess for small miracles..."
Still blushing deep red, ashamed of her outburst, Vashti turns her gaze to the petite girl...no, young woman, before her.
The lady judges us on our deeds in this word, weighing them in the next to decide our afterlife. I fear I have added some darkness to my self. I should not have loosed my tongue, he has earned nothing of me to deserve it. I fear I have led a far to sheltered life.
Takes her long scarf in hand and begins to wind and unwind its length in her hands, the runes and symbols of it bringing her some small measure of calm.
Addresses the small warrior before her
So then, what brings you to this place, little bright spot?
[dice=perception]1d20+4 Gaze pierces Arabeth Disguise Dc,An Angelkin, how blessed this place is! An elven lass, sharp blade there. Dwarf, Gnome, nother couple of humans, is that a goblin? And Chokes on her drink for a moment after spotting the horned ...man...thing...person...
Setting down with the food.. "I try my best Miss Arabeth.. I'm afraid my response to her outburst may have been a bit harsh, but as I stated earlier, I do not do apologies.. Here, have some food.." He turns as Lady Vashti buys there next round.. "Thank you for the drink Miss.. You are welcome to join our table and we can start over if you wish.." Before she can answer he turns around and starts eating his food..
Arabeth nods in acknowledgement to/at Deacon's words. She is more composed with her food, beginning to slowly partake and enjoy her meal along with the fine alcohol that is flowing freely. She watches in amusement as Deacon falls upon his dinner and ravages it with savage gusto.
Vashti looks to the tiny women beside her, her hand still nervously clenching her scarf
Let us see if we can make some friends this evening!
Strides over and plants herself next to Deacon and company.
The road was long and I was delayed several days with little sleep, let us enjoy the evening as friends and please forgive my manners, they may be rusty from little use and fatigue.
Arabeth looks up as Vashti approaches (And possibly Ysmerelda.) smiling in greeting. She inclines her head, indicating she understands Vashti's explanation for her comments.
"Well met in any case." She replies to Vashti's information, "How far have you traveled?" Arabeth inquires, though she spreads her gaze to all at the table as an invitation to share and compare.
At Vashti's query, Ysmerelda's lip quirks somewhere between a grin & a smirk. "Oh, a bit of...
personal business. My master has released me from training finally & I wanted to stop by a dear friend before I made my way North to Mendev." As Deacon Slaughter settles back to his repast a subtle tension eases from her shoulders.
At least he's civil enough to accept a public apology...
which mean it's over...
I hope.
At Vashti's attempt to further goodwill, Ysmerelda nods heartily in agreement. "Indeed, I've heard more than enough of the dangers inherant in Ustalav's countryside, no need to add to our frets. I understand we are not far from the Holds now, for all we know there might be an Orc raiding party just beyond the next rise."
"Pitax, in the River Kingdoms." She replies to Arabeth's query
Truly a small distance for some, but a great journey for me. I hired on to a caravan passing thru my home, a small place between Rozenport and Thrushmoor in the county of Versex. To tiny to be gifted with any name but home from us that live there, I had never left her grasp before two weeks ago.
Begins eating her food with a gusto equal to a pack of wolves when placed before her.
thank you this good!
Arabeth turns her smile to Ysmerelda "I have heard many tales of these 'River Kingdoms'. I look forwards to perhaps hearing your more...personal knowledge of the places. It will be good to have knowledge and truth instead of tales and innuendo."
Arabeth looks to Vashti, even as she demurely continues to slowly work away at the contents of her plate.
"You are of a temple background?" And her smiles widens, "The fates are indeed kind in their own convoluted way. I too have been raised amongst faithful. Perchance we can compare the variances of beliefs between our respective Goddess'?" She asks.
"Temple, no...no such training for me. I learned my faith and my skill with my great-uncle. We had hoped to send me to Caliphas, but he died before that happened. My first day as a priestess started on his late day of life. I did the rites for him, guarded him the night and took up his place in the village."
Sadness replaces her ready smile, her face turns down briefly.
Begins twisting the ends of her scarf once more.
In a clear ploy to move past a sad moment, she speaks again
"I would enjoy hearing of other faiths, other gods, if you don't mind."
At Vashti's sincere explanation Arabeth does extend a comforting hand in a gesture of apology for bringing forth such unpleasantness. Arabeth then lifts a small, silver pendant/necklace from within her clothes.
"Myself?" She replies and there is evidence of some sadness in her composure, "I was raised by the followers of Calistra. I must admit to not knowing of my parents." Arabeth's smile turns wistful, "Though, truly, I can say that all within the temple treated me as their own." Arabeth blinks, returning her thoughts to the present and those around herself. She looks to Deacon, Ysmerelda and Sothonin.
Stuffing his face and listening to the women tell their tales Deacon remains silent for a while.. He raises an eye when Arabeth openly admits to following Calistra.. Wiping his mouth clean.. "I too was raised in a temple.. I am from this area originally.. My mother was a local whore in Ravengro and obviously I didn't know my father.. My mother died as I entered the world, which is common when giving birth to fiend spawn.. I was taken in by the church and raised to be opposite of what I was born.. It was not to be though as the "normal" folk in this area were not what you call nice to me.." He pauses and looks at Vashti.. "The Lord in Iron had plans for me though and since I have traveled and shed blood in his name.. I return for a funeral.." He continues to eat his food not waiting for a response from the women.. [i]"Been along time since I've had this good of smells around me..
Arabeth's smile does not fade at Deacon's comments, though an eyebrow does arch slightly, even as she tucks her holy symbol away.
"My condolences....." She replies to his open comments. "Though the common man's understanding of most faiths tends to be far too simplistic when it comes to the labeling of things." Her gaze does rest upon Deacon for a few moments before she returns her smile to every one else gathered at their table.
Soth finally finished the rather large bite he had crammed in his mouth and washed it down with another large gulp of mead. He turned back to the conversation with a slight grin on his face. "I suppose I'm the odd man out here. I wasn't raised in a temple to any god, and I have no true faith as it seems all of you have. I was raised in a school in the western River Kingdoms that my father founded. It is not a normal battle college like some around the area, my father and the lecturers he hires speak on more than just the best way to defeat a numerically superior opponent, although that sort of thing is covered." He smiles and looks down at his own hands, big and tough, made rough by years of hard use. "He raised me to rely on my own two hands and so I have made them into weapons. His greatest lesson though, was that it is the mind that is the most lethal weapon. 'Forewarned is forearmed' and all that. Heh." He brings his head up and his mood lightens drastically. "The River Kingdoms are quite often in a state of flux, and I have only recently returned home from traveling abroad. I'm afraid I couldn't tell you much about them other than the basics you could read out of a travel guide."
He directed his attention to the tiefling specifically, "I have to say though, you are rather brave to come to Ustalav, looking the way you do. I have been given to understand they are not the most open or welcoming of people to outsiders of any sort, let alone those who are clearly... irregular. I hope you know I mean no offense, of course."
The door opens, and a pale-looking man who seems to be in his early adult years enters. He wears plain studded leather armor and has a crossbow strapped to his back, but far more prominent is the holy symbol of Desna he wears around his neck. The crystalline butterfly sparkles and winks as it catches the dim light sources, and seems to throw them back magnified.
So many years since I have been in Ustalav...and now, I find myself in a land of strangers. At least it's on the opposite side of the principality from home... His eyes sweep the tavern, taking in the seated group with some surprise. He makes his way over to the table.
"Good evening. May I join you? I've seen many different stars to get here, and it's refreshing to see such a diverse group of people getting along so apparently well." Hearing Sothonin's last comment, he smiles at Deacon.
"The good man here is correct about Ustalavs, it's true. But I grew up in this land, and I can assure that, in county Varno at least, you might find yourself the target of suspicion, but rarely hostility. The people of Ustalav are not as concerned with fiends as with other...things...that stalk the hills."
Deacon listens to Sothian and looks up as the newcomer sits down at the table.. "I would tend to agree with you both, but I was born in this region, raised here and have been doing Gorum's work in Ustalav for many years now.. If I was going to be hunted by Inquisitors it would have happened by now.." And with that he finishes up his plate and pours a shot before turning it back..
The hobgoblin looks a little put out that his offer to buy was ignored completely and moves over to the table with the gnome and dwarf. " Room for another? I'm buying the next round." he offers gruffly, not expecting much more of a friendly response. He shifts his pack easily and stands near at attention as one can without actually issuing a formal salute.
Arabeth listens with interest as Sothonin explains their origins from the far off River Kingdoms. She then turns her attention to the latest newcomer who explains some things about Ustalav, nodding slightly as Deacon adds his comments into the mix.
Lokien looks up at the offer and sees something he seldom sees outside of his normal homelands. He grins at this unique circumstance.
"Well I'll be.....a Goblin offering to buy the next round. For a gnome and a dwarf no less. Aye. I'd say. Why Not? Come here and sit here at this table. Let the others gawk but then few would understand that ale crosses boundaries. I be Lokien. What's your name?"
Kazallin smiles as Deacon offers his history. "Ah, I see. I'm glad that you have kept yourself so safe--the Song of the Spheres smiles upon us all when we do good for the world." He joins the group at their table. "My name is Kazallin, called Longfoot by many. I'm a wanderer, a priest of Desna. I have an interest in liberating people from the ties that bind them...which is what drew me back to my homeland." Well, that's mostly true. That and the need to answer that letter...
If within reach Arabeth offers a hand to be shaken, other wise she offers a small wave. In either case she also gives a friendly smile to Kazallin. (^_^)
Kazallin shakes the proffered hand with a smile, though his eyes tighten slightly. This woman...is more than she appears to be. But her flesh feels warm, her smile sincere. She is not a threat.
"Might I have the honor of your names?" he asks.
"Arabeth" She points to herself and smiles as she does the introduction. Then awaits the others to make themselves known to this new comer.
Soth reaches across the table to give the man a firm handshake, "My name is Sothonin, but please, call me Soth."
He smiles warmly, as he readjusts himself in his seat. "So another worshiper of the butterfly woman, eh? Seems she's very popular just now. I'll admit to having thrown up a prayer or two to her from time to time. I do quite a bit of traveling and there have been times when it looked like only a god, or goddess, would get me out of a rather sticky situation. And who's to say that it didn't, for all I know on the subject?"
Lokien looks up at the offer and sees something he seldom sees outside of his normal homelands. He grins at this unique circumstance.
"Well I'll be.....a Goblin offering to buy the next round. For a gnome and a dwarf no less. Aye. I'd say. Why Not? Come here and sit here at this table. Let the others gawk but then few would understand that ale crosses boundaries. I be Lokien. What's your name?"
"Name's Arven." He says with a toothy grin, " And enjoying a good Ale with other civilized folk is my favorite form of Abadar's worship!" He sets his pack down, offers a solid handshake to the dwarf and takes a seat.
Vashti is my name, um...was he offering a round before I got here? I've already been rude enough, I wish to be no more so.