Tavern Archive #1

Sitting on the southeastern coast of Raytha is a small port town called Soara. The town is only about a decade old, and is growing quickly, fuelled by trade from the nations in Gardann across the sea and the islands to the south. One of the first buildings in the town was built by a Yanthian; a little man named Jak Skyler. A man of small stature but great in appetites, he had an insatiable love for good wine, good food, and good music, and proceeded to built a tavern that featureed all of these. He made his original living as a travelling bard, and is a man of broad experience. He almost always carries a smile, a joke, and a tale to tell.

With Jak is his bouncer; called Garus. Garus is a Derian from northern Gardann, and a massive man. He stands seven feet tall and is made of over 250 pounds of iron muscle. Garus doesn't say much; but he eats a massive volume of food, can drink almost any patron under the table, and keeps an axe that's heavier than Jak. Nobody is really sure why, but Garus has stayed with Jak as his bodyguard for many years, follows him wherever he goes, and obeys his every order. Funnily enough, Garus also acts as part-time cleaner and housekeeper, keeping the Lute's rooms clean and furnished.

Jak decided when he built the place that he needed the largest fireplace of any tavern anywhere. And so it was. The ceiling in the common room is ten feet tall, and the hearth stretches almost to it. Every night, and on cold, rainy days, a large fire is stoked, warming and lighting the tavern. When everybody decides they're done ordering drinks (and often before this event), Jak will withdraw his lute and sit near the fire, singing in his soft but powerful voice.

The tavern is the place where characters hang out and interact between quests. You are free to control Jak and Garus, as long as you keep them in-character, as described above. I'll be using them fairly regularly myself.

As to rules: just leave the tavern standing. I'd prefer if we could keep fights to a relative minimum if possible.

Have fun, everyone!

The knife still vibrated, seconds after it got stuck in the wood. It had struck it’s target spot on. Roni took another throwing knife out of it’s socket and swung her arm back. With deadly precision she put it right next to the other one. She smiled.

The barn had obviously been empty for years, but it served it’s purpose. She had been here for a week, regaining her strength and keeping her head down for a bit. The Guild had not been pleased with her last piece of work, where she had to defend herself and had killed (not entirely unintentional) the owner of the house. Thieves are not murderers, she thought to heself, while throwing a third knife. It ended up sticking right next to the other two in the wood.

Redder had been a man with no principals. He stole a lot from the rich, but even more from the poor. They needed his protection but paid a high price for their safety. It was about time somebody taught him a lesson, even if it was not planned.
She had entered his house through the attic window, looking for the box filled with gold coins. He put all his ‘tax’-money in there, and all knew he kept it well guarded. It had been the day after pay day, so the box would’ve been full. It seemed like an easy job, with both Redder and his guard out for dinner and drinks. Roni had calculated that they would be gone for at least two hours more, so she hadn’t bothered with being silent. A damn shame Redder had decided to go home early. She had just picked the lock of the box when he surprised her. Thanks to her fast reflexes she was able to swiftly turn around and put two daggers in his enormous belly. He had squealed like a pig. She had left him there in a puddle of his own blood, taking the box.

She took the knifes out of the piece of wood she had used as a target and checked the blades for flaws. When she didn’t find any, she put them back in the various hiding places on her body. It was time to move on, she had already stayed here too long. Quickly she grabbed what little she possessed and threw it in the bag she put over her shoulders. Before dark she would reach Soara and the inn she had planned on staying in.

She couldn’t read too well, but she could make out that the sign said ‘The Jester’s Lute’. Her feet were a tiny bit sore and she was in for something hot to eat and a drink. She opened the door and felt the comfortable heat oozing from the huge fireplace. A man was playing his lute by the fire, quietly humming. He looked up when she entered, and put his lute aside. A genuine smile appeared on his face.

“Come in, come in. Take off that wet cloak and put it here, by the fire and put yourself there as well. You must be cold. Can I get you anything?”

Roni smiled. She liked the man instantly. “A hot meal would be welcome, thank you. And maybe a bit of ale? Even my bones feel cold.”

He nodded and talked as he walked to the bar. “My name is Jak. Garus should come in any minute now, he just went into town for a few errands. Garus makes sure things are safe around here, if you get what I mean. Although we haven’t had many people around here lately. The bad weather seems to change that. “ His smile grew a little bigger. “Will you be staying for the night?”

She nodded as he brought her the tankard with ale. “At least a fortnight. I have enough coins to pay in advance.”

Jak waved her words away and said he would just get her food for her. She stretched out and took a sip from her ale. Nodding approvingly when she tasted how nice and sweet it was, she allowed her body to relax. The front door opened and a bear of a man stepped in. He nodded at her and walked towards the kitchen. Jak just came out with a hot plate in his hand, greeted Garus and put the plate on Roni’s table. She smiled and thanked him again. When she had scraped every bit of the delicious stew, she stretched out again en soon she started feeling her eyes droop. The combination of the heat from the fireplace, the warm food in her belly and the alcohol in her blood caused her to fall asleep more deeply than she had in months.

Niether Mist nor Lliliean cared for the Crow, but it had appeared ten times since they had ventured from the fortress. Lliliean had she tears only for the Jewels, thirteen had died for her. She had now lost as many sisters as brothers and hoped that this number would not grow lest Dawn return and inform her of the count.

Unwillingly, Mist had been pushed as fast as the mare could manage for ass long as she was willing to move forward, they rested when she could go no farther, and returned when she was willing or fidgity. Lliliean loved the mare, had raised her since Il-Lior's own pure white mare had birthed her, she and Mellanor were her constand companions. She foolowed the map that Jewel Dainya had sketched her by hand when she presented the vases.

Sister Kloude," she had said to her, " this is your only passage from Schi. Once you are on it, do not stop untill you arrive here," she gestured at the little box she had sketched and labeled "Jester." That was where freedom would deliver her.

Lliliean pushed the memory from her mind as she crested a hill and noticed the tavern in the distance, salvation on the horizon. Mist had noticed it too and the mare had sped faster tan ever before, anticipating the rest that would come at the end of the long journey. Mist, too, had beeen happy when Lliliean had runfrom the fortress, her recent battle still upon her as she mounted the mare and whispered, "Freedom!"

Lliliean entered the stable cautiously, looking for somebody to aid her, but found none and settled Mist into one of the many vacant stalls before giving her sme of the fruit they had collected along their travels. "Thank you, thank you Mist," she cooed as she rubbed the mare's muzzle.

She walked into the Tavern and simply gleened over the suroundings, it was grandeur that would enrage Schi in envy. She made her way to the bar and sat upon a stool and promptly laid her head on her folded arms, the journey finally catching up with her.


That had been many moons ago though, now she felt the Tavern a second home. She had since ammasssed many battles under her hilt, but still longed for more. And, the last thought she had ever wondered constantly resurfaced in her mind, "Could I put my life on the line for him?"

Would it be a disappointment to her Sisters if she did die for another eventhough they had died so that she may live?

Teele woke with the dawn yet again, as he had every morning for years. Every morning, that is, except one. The morning after that blissful night. The night he had spent in the arms of the woman of his dreams.

He would remember that night, as they sat at first atop the stable roof near the tavern. Merri had managed to find a bottle of snow wine, and they had shared it as the blue moonlight smiled down on them. It was on that rooftop that they had confessed their love for one another; and shared their first kiss. He remembered his awkwardness as he shyly began to ask her...and she had finished the thought for him. From off the rooftop, they had made their way back up to Merri's room.

Even now, he remembered it with a smile as he looked toward the dawning sun. The bliss of the memory was caught up in wistfulness and longing. Longing to hold her again; feel her close to him; her lips on his...

He breathed a sigh and turned around. Reede still lay on his bedroll, sleeping silently. Teele walked soundlessly over to him and nudged him with his foot. Reede's eyes came open suddenly, and he looked up at his younger brother.

"It's dawn, Teele." He said, a little irritably.

"I know. I thought we could get an early start." Teele replied.

"We've been getting 'early starts' since we left..." Reede said, giving his brother a knowing smile. Teele shifted his feet slightly.

"I know." Reede said. "You miss her." Teele nodded.

"More than anything." Reede got to his feet and clapped Teele on the shoulder.

"We'll get there this afternoon if we start now." Teele smiled.

Reede could imagine the drive his brother felt. Like Teele, Reede, too had a woman waiting for him back at the tavern. But Reede's relationship with Nadala was much more complicated than Teele's with Merri. Weeks of thinking about it had brought Reede no closer to a conclusion. He still couldn't decide whether or not he could, or even if he should, love her. Her cold, unnerving nature was certainly less than attractive; but he had seen a few brief glimpses beyond it to something much gentler...something he could love.

He shook his head. Well, it appeared she was destined to be his wife; whether they like it or not. Maybe by some miracle she had changed these past weeks.

The two brothers tacked up their horses, broke camp and rode on into the morning. As predicted, they neared the tavern by early afternoon. As Teele saw the familiar buildings, he heart began to pound with hope; with anticipation...

The small, bright eyed young Shadow Elf walked into the bar. Slowly she lowered the hood of her dark purple silk cloak and looked around. "Humans... real humans," thought Alexandra to herself right as she walked into a wall... no person, very big person. "eep!" said the suprised woman. "Sorry sir, please forgive me for not paying attention." Bowing her head, she heard the man simply grunt before walking away. At that moment she wondered for the first time if Shadow Elves could blush. Quietly she walked to the bar. "Umm... May I have a glass of iced green tea please?"

"Coming right up," said the barkeep.

Merri rode across the open plains, the few others who had stayed on for her father’s funeral riding with her. Her eyes were dry and empty, as they had been since she had seen Evandros fall. She was muffled in her green cloak from head to toe.

Merri had been able to help drive back the invaders from her home woodlands, her ferocity something from legend.

She had been able to help bear her beloved father’s body away from the fires, the screams, the death and prepare him for his final journey.

She had been able to light the pyre.

She had been able to accept the condolences lavished on her by friends and family.

But she had been unable to cry.

She desperately wanted to but she felt wooden, sitting straight, shoulders back, appearing calm as she and her companions rode toward Soara in silence, entering woodlands, now, sounds muffled by the trees.

Merri had pushed the group hard to reach Elidian to answer her father’s call for help, seldom resting, never stopping for the night. She pushed nearly as hard now, driven by the need to see Teele’s face and hear his voice. Every stride the mare took brought Merri that much nearer to feeling his arms around her again and her need for that comfort was a nearly physical ache.

Memories flicked through her mind of the battle, her father's death, of things she never wanted to see again.

She willed her mind away and thought of Teele, allowing the good memories to flood her inner eye; Teele’s unruly hair falling forward, the look in his blue eyes, candlelight and moonlight mingled, soft sounds, words that weren’t words at all, his touch…

She kicked Bonehead, her mare, into a gallop and her tired companions looked at each other and did their best to follow. It wasn’t far now and divots of forest loam sailed up from Bonehead’s hooves as Merri leaned over the mare’s neck, urging her on.

He would be at their tavern. The Jester’s Lute, the place where they had met, where it had all started for them. And now, the closest thing she had to a home.

He came in on a sick horse. Gemini was his name. Chosen to suit the temperament of his master, Timbur Matreigh. Normally a happy drunk, but when it's time to fight, Timbur is an elf possessed. The horse also has its bout with multiple personalities. The aforementioned sickness he endures is when there is no war. But when the battlefield beckons for bloodshed, Gemini springs right into action, not missing a step.

The trusted steed pulls up to a tavern. Finally, after a vigorous ride, perhaps Timbur can dismount and get himself a drink. And a proper meal. His insides felt hollow, but he desires that feeling of hunger... of famine when a fight is brewing.

"Whoa."

The horse stops and its owner leads him to the stable where a young girl will take over.

"Be not worried, girl, he's very friendly."

A smile to compliment his words put a smile on the young girl's face as well. She takes hold of the reigns and puts Gemini in his resting spot for the evening... perhaps longer. Timbur looked at the sign of the establishment. "The Jester's Lute," it read. Interesting name.

As Timbur's high from war came down completely, he was able to step foot inside. A deep breath at first entry helped to direct his path to the bar. He was greeting by a little man with a bright smile.

"Welcome to The Jester's Lute, my friend. Jak Skylar, owner and bartender at yer service."

The wilder elf bowed with a smile.

"Well met, sir... I am Timbur. Please, what town is this?"

"Well met, indeed, Timbur. You're in Soara... in Raytha."

"Thank you, Jak."

Timbur looked around. A few humans and a shadow elf was in his immediate vision. He smiled and nodded before returning his attention back to Jak.

"Might I have an ale, Jak?"

"Course ye may. Coming right up."

Nadala

Nadala walked from the stables towards the tavern her head low. She felt agitated every movement had her twitching. Several men watched her as she crossed the dirty cobbled street and she turned her nose up at them. Comments flowed from them, none of the words were good. They were just the way Nadala liked them.

She stepped into the tavern and looked around a group of soldiers caught her eye. One had blue eyes that felt very familiar to her. She shrugged off the thought and headed for the bar. Her mind screamed out for ale, to swipe bothersome thoughts from her mind. She may have looked every bit the lady but she had the temperament of a stubborn hog. Fatigue only made that temper worse.

Nadala needed to relax, she needed to push away the thoughts of a bothersome man.

“Reede,” she hissed the word to herself. He had gotten beneath her skin and she struggled to keep her thoughts free of the man. How could you hate someone and be attracted to them at the same time the thought was ludicrous

She leant against the bar staring back at the faces. She knew none of them Or perhaps she did but had simply neglected to care about then enough to remember. She shrugged they were all the same as far as she was concerned.

Rhue and Nadala

Rhue sat with the group of soldiers he had entered with. Though he sat with the group he felt separate and somewhat different from them. He worked by their side daily but he could not bring himself to call them family. He had a family, a grandfather, mother, father, three brothers and a sister. All of them but one were dead. Crushed by the Gy-ait, his youngest sister had simply vanished. Some nights he would dream of them and wake yearning to touch them.

He sighed turning his gaze towards the counter, there was a young lady standing at the bar. Her piercing gaze staring at him. She had the most otherworldly eyes he had ever seen, a strange shade of red. He managed a wire grin, perhaps she would fill the hole just for one night. He took his jug of ale and approached her at the bar.

“Greeting young lady, I just wanted to compliment you. I‘ve never seen a lovelier woman,” his words were sickening even to him. Desperation came in two forms desperate and utterly stupid. He was unsure what level he was at right now.

The woman hoisted a crossbow from her shoulder and loaded it as he watched in shock. When she was done she pressed it against his neck. She gave him a grin that reminded him of his own reflection.

“Say it again moron and watch me skewer you,” she batted her eyelashes at him in mock. So he was utterly stupid today. Rhue decided perhaps he would try a different way to lure her.

Sareth stared down from his perch atop barren stone, his hair billowing wildly about in the fierce winds as his hands moved fluidly across the neck and strings of the old lute he held. The song was sad yet fierce, much like his eyes. Each note seemed to cry out a regret or a broken memory. The music flowed through Sareth's very being, much like the raging winds, and cut him to the very core of who he was. For a moment he looked as though he might be about to shed a tear, but any tears he might have shed were swept up in the gale to join with drops of rain as they began to fall. In the distance towards the ocean's tumultuous waters a single bolt of lightning split the horizon in two. Thunder rumbled so loudly overhead that it shoot the very earth. Sareth flinched a little as Jaron fell to one knee.

"Why? Why did you do it?! Tell me damn you!" Cried Jaron as his hands struggled to keep his hands going on the lute. Each pluck of the strings brought a new wind, each strum of a chord a clap of thunder. Jaron held Sareth's gaze unwaveringly, rage tainted with sadness burning in his eyes.

Sareth held the gaze only for a moment before he looked away, his hands almost faltering and another crash of lightning struck the distance. "I don't expect you to understand Jaron. I didn't understand it myself for a long time and its not something that can be explained...not with words or music. You have to find out for yourself. One day, Jaron...you will understand. I want you to find me when that day comes. Maybe then you will be able to forgive me."

Jaron cried out in pain, his hands struggling to keep the melody. Blood mixed in with the rain as it fell. Sareth was too strong. Much more, and Jaron knew his body would be torn to pieces from the exertion. "Damn you Sareth...may the gods damn you till your dying breath," he whispered.

Sareth closed his eyes, either in pain or sadness, or perhaps a little of both. "They already have."

A dark hand came to rest on Sareth's shoulder and he shrugged away from it, but the hand's grip did not falter. Then a voice echoed out above the storm. "It is time to go Sareth. There is much work to be done...or have you forgotten your purpose?" The voice had the peculiar quality of being beautiful and terrible all at once. There was power behind the voice...secret and ancient power.

"No," began Sareth, his voice shaky, "No, I have not forgotten."

"Good," echoed the dark voice once again. "Then let us be gone from this place."

Sareth gave one last look at Jaron, offering up a melancholy smile. Then he stopped playing and let the lute fall to his side. A bolt of lightning struck the small patch of rocky ground where he had been standing, and then he was gone.


Thunder erupted overhead and Jaron paused to look up at the sky. The moons were barely visible through the clouds, their dim blue glows serving only to remind Jaron that they were indeed there. It was like looking at a memory of a time long past. They were all hazy, but the glow, the feelings and emotions, were still there, serving only to remind a person of all the pain and happiness.

A single drop of rain fell from those clouds and struck Jaron on the forehead. He reflexively pulled the hood of his traveling cloak up and then turned his gaze to the distance ahead of him. He could make out the lights and dark silhouettes of a small town. He hoped he could find a way out of the cold rain. Thunder crashed once more, and Jaron began the final stretch of his trek.

By the time he reached the Tavern, the brewing clouds had exploded into a heavy torrent of cold rain and ice. It was only when lightning struck that Jaron was able to catch a glimpse of the Jester's Lute. It was a friendly looking place on the outside, but Jaron had learned not to trust things based on appearances alone. When he finally did enter the place, the sound of music drifted to his ears and he felt as though a great weight were lifted from his shoulders. He breathed, truly breathed, for the first time in a great long while. For as much as Yanthians longed to begin journeys, it was the ends of those journeys that kept them going. Jaron had reached the end of a journey.

Without paying much attention to the occupants, Jaron made his way quickly to the large hearth and began warming himself by the fire. A man sat not far away strumming on a beautiful sounding lute. When Jaron looked him in the eye, he instantly knew him to be one of his people. Yanthians looked like all other humans, but when you were around one, you got the distinct feeling of a person who had traveled more in one year of his life than most people did in an entire lifetime. There was a sense kinship in that feeling. Jaron closed his eyes and bowed his head slightly, a common greeting among his people. The man returned the gesture without missing a single note.

Turning back to face the fire, Jaron took off his wet cloak and set it across the hearth to dry it out. He also took his sword belt off and laid it near the cloak. It was then that he unstrapped his own loot from his back and sat on the hearth. When he looked back to the man playing the lute, he noticed that his eyes seemed to have lit up a little. Jaron plucked at a couple of the strings and made a few adjustments before he began listening to the man's tune. As soon as he recognized the song, Jaron jumped in. All the notes hit served as a perfect counterbalance to the other man. For a time they simply played together, each enjoying the sound of the music. When the song was finished, the man motioned to another larger man, Derian from the looks of him, and he brought out a bowl of hot soup and a cup of water to Jaron.

Laying down his lute, Jaron eagerly took the soup and water. He raised the bowl up just above his head and then out to the man who had been playing the lute, his eyes closed and head bowed. It was another Yanthian gesture. The man simply nodded once more and Jaron began to eat as the man started up another tune on his lute.

The rain had never bothered her. She loved the darkness of storms, the power of the thunder and the rain; the intense heat of lightning as it struck the earth.

Fayte Blackwing pulled her hood down as she entered the tavern. Music played, a group of soldiers laughed and cadjoled each other but other than that, it didn't seem as though much was happening. She had come here maybe once or twice in the past, but that was all. She didn't tend to stick around much.

Back in the dimly lit corner of the tavern, Fayte sunk into a chair and closed her eyes. She had been on the road for too long this time, barely stopping longer than a single night, more often than not, mere hours before feeling the crushing need to keep going. It wasn't until she had arrived at this town that the need to keep moving had diminished.

A large man placed a bowl of stew, a chunk of bread and a tankard of ale in front of her. She paid the man and took a tentative sip of the brew. She preffered mead but the ale was just right and suited the meal.

Fayte watched as one of the soldiers stood and approached a young woman standing next to the bar. He leered at her then stood back in shock as the young woman pulled out her bow and aimed an arrow for his throat.

Laughing quietly into her drink, Fayte leaned back and continued to watch.

The afternoon had brought with it clouds, and a light rain. Reede had merely shifted slightly in his saddle; his mind still on this 'reunion' to be had. Still on the conflict in his own thoughts and emotions. He was both surprised and annoyed that his heartbeat sped as they neared the tavern, and once he and Teele had deposited their horses at the stables, Reede went for the tavern. Teele stayed outside; a forlorn and haunted expression on his face: Merri's horse wasn't at the stable.

On entering, Reede saw several faces who hadn't been there when last he came. Jak had a partner in his music-making now, it seemed. Reede's eyes lingered for a moment in mingled guilt and fascination at the decidedly well-formed dark-haired woman at a nearby table. A group of soldiers had also entered; their laughing gazes directed to the bar; where Nadala held a man at bowpoint.

Reede grinned and stepped up behind her, his quick, strong hand bringing the tip of the bow away from his throat.

"How many times have I told you not to threaten strange men, Nadala?"

Lliliean descended the stairs slowly, her morning fogginess still about her. Familiar faces had arrived in the hours since she left foer bed, the Brothers for one, and the woman who didn't like one of them. Lliliean wanted to laugh at her as she gave him a dirty look. She knew never to cross that woman when her bow was drawn, it seemed commno knowledge to her really.

She crosses to the heart where a newcomer had made himself comfortable, or he looked it to her, his cothing drying on the heart. She simply sat by the heart and stared into the fire.

"How many times have I told you not to threaten strange men, Nadala?" Reede questioned from behind her.

Nadala hissed several swearwords, the man seemed to pale as Reede spoke Nadala’s name.

“Who?” he stammered.

Nadala ignored him whirling around to face Reede. The sight of him almost made her smile. She shoved the thoughts that bubbled to the surface. No she hadn’t missed him one bit.

“Why?” she said dryly. “I threaten you all the time. His not any different, he‘s a man and his strange.”

She glared at Reede, if he lifted one mug of ale to his lips she would be leaving in a hurry.

He had been riding for nearly a full day and night, trying to reach his destination. The only times he stopped was when his loyal pony indicated she could not go on anymore. Then, he would allow her to get some rest, even if he himself would get none. If he did fall asleep, it was an uneasy sleep, and he would dream about it. His whole body shouted for it, he needed it, and if he didn’t get it fast, he thought he may as well lose his mind. He needed to feel it race trough his body, pour trough his veins. And he knew that every yard he travelled brought him one yard closer to his beloved brew.

Ale.

Oskar’s mouth felt dry, and he wondered how long he had been up in the saddle now. It had been nearly a week since he had seen a tavern, although that was mostly his own fault; he had been travelling due north, mostly cross country, and there weren’t a lot of taverns in the middle of the woods. Although there should be.

He patted Miezel on her head. The poor pony hadn’t had a decent meal in, well, a week. He always forgot to bring food for the animal, like he always forgot to bring ale for himself. He wasn’t very good at planning things, never had been, and he wondered out loud why he had chosen to head north again. It had seemed like a good idea at the time.

After an hour or so, the woods cleared and they found a road. Oskar frowned. Either he could keep going north, or he could follow this road. There had to be taverns to the north, then again, there had to be a tavern at this road to. After a few minutes, he decided to follow the road, despite his better judgement. But it seemed like he was in luck, for as the woods made way for open fields, he spotted a large building in front of him, and if the smoke coming out of the large square chimney was any indication, it had to be a tavern. He urged Miezel on until he could read the sign; The Jester’s Lute. A tavern. Finally.

He dropped Miezel of at the stables, handing the stable boy a handsome amount of coins for food and water. Miezel was his companion, had been for a few years now, and she deserved the best care she could possibly get. Once his pony had been taken care of, he jogged into the tavern.

He slammed open the doors and rushed to the bar, vaguely aware of several soldiers roaring with laughter behind him. He took out a few coins and slammed them onto the bar. The bartender looked at him, smiling friendly. “Hail, master dwarf, what is yo…”

“Ale!” Oskar would have plenty of time for pleasantries later, once his cheeks were red and his head was spinning. “Been on th’ roa’ fer way te long, lad. Please, some of yer finest brew.” The man blinked, turned around and produced a mug which he filled with some brown liquid from one of the kegs. He shoved it towards Oskar, who picked it up with both hands and started pouring it down his throat.

Ale, wonderful ale. Now, he was alive. Now, he was home. Well, he wasn’t home, but it felt more like home then it had a few minutes ago. Most of the dark brew made it into his system, although a royal amount managed to evade his mouth and instead spilled down. He would have to wash his beard tonight. But first, more ale. He slammed the tankard back onto the bar. “They shoul’ make ye a god, lad. A god, I tell ye. Keep em commin’”

Nadala turned to face him, those gorgeous, firey eyes staring into his with a funny mix of amusement, annoyance, and.....what? No.

“Why?” she said dryly. “I threaten you all the time. His not any different, he‘s a man and his strange.”

Reede laughed heartily.

"Yes, but I'm your husband, so you're allowed." Jak had walked back behind the bar.

"Ale all around. My treat." He said. Jak smiled and went back to get it prepared.

Lliliean had made her way over to the bar just in time to hear the Brother order drinks all around. She took the mug offered her and raised it to him, "many thanks unto you!" THe sweet ale ran like fire through her, but it woke her up. Or so she thought. Her morningmind had not subsided quite yet and her attempt at walking away from the bar landed her against somebody's back, her ale on the floor in the other direction.

She patted the back of the man, his blue robes disheveld from her trip, "I am so sorry about that. THat is what cmes of drinking ale upon wake." She smiled and tried to smooth out the robes.

"Yes, but I'm your husband, so you're allowed." Her jaw dropped at Reede’s words.

Was that disappointment Nadala saw in the man’s eyes.

“Just when I thought I‘d forgotten thankyou ever so much for reminding me,” Nadala grumbled folding her arms over her chest in forfeit. “See that social boy, husband,” she said to the man shaking her head.

"Ale all around. My treat." He said. Jak smiled and went back to get it prepared.

“Better make mine water,” Nadala said turning her back to the bar with a sigh.

Karis sat upwards in her saddle as the party galloped across the planes towards Soara. She stared ahead, occasionally glancing back to the dark cloud of smoke which hung over Evandros. The images of fire and death still haunted her whenever they paused long enough to think. She was glad for the relentless pace that Merri set.

When the Jester’s Lute finally came into sight, Karis pulled on the reins and slowed Kar to a walk, allowing the others to pass her. The quest was over. Relief and sadness filled her eyes. Now what could she do? Karis sighed swung down from the saddle, pulling her hood up. The pungent smell of smoke had soaked into the fabric and triggered the memories. A few flakes of ash fell from the fabric. She paid the stable boy and pushed the door to the tavern open.

Inside, she recognized several of the people crowded into the small room. Teele and Reede stood by the bar and Karis smiled for the first time in days. Ever since Evandros, she had worried about Merri who had seemed to sink further and further into herself. If anyone could help, it would be Teele.

Karis moved to the bar, sitting on a stool near a dwarf who was busy guzzling ale like it was water. She quietly brought a glass of water and moved to the corner, sitting at one of the tables.

She patted the back of the man, his blue robes dishevelled from her trip, "I am so sorry about that. That is what comes of drinking ale upon wake." She smiled and tried to smooth out the robes.

He shrugged, “it was accident, think nothing of it. The garb is fine. How about you, no harm done by your trip?”

He smiled at her before looking at Nadala again. He felt like he knew this woman. He shook his head, it was just hope the name had triggered it within him. This spiteful piece of work was nothing like his sister. With her calm blue eyes and gentle nature. She was far from shy and reclusive like his Nadala was.

He turned back to the woman, “I‘m Rhue a soldier with the kings guard. Who are currently laughing at me. It would seem they‘ve met this woman before.”

" I am fine." She smiled and saw the way he looked to Nadala, as if she wee a memory gone wrong.

When he turned back and introduced himself, she returned favor, "Llilian Kloude, well met." Loooking to the gurad, it reminded her of a guilde she had noticed before, "Well, she is known for her temper, and dislike of flirts. I think she has a nice side, or she would have killed him," she says pointing at Reede.


(she doesn't know all the names, it just hard to write without 'em)

Teele's heart sank when he took a glance through the stable's stalls and didn't see Bonehead, Merri's horse. He bit his lip, his mind as far as it could possibly be from his current task of untacking Indigo. Worry and panic began to cloud his thoughts. What if she was in trouble? What if she had been captured? Twice he almost threw the saddle back on Indigo. But then he remembered their poem:

No threat holds fear in their embrace,

Even if she couldn't be with him now; he still embraced her in his thoughts every minute. He didn't need to fear. They had exchanged a promise. Nothing would keep them from one another. Ever.

Teele stepped out again into the street, the rain falling slow around him. Movement caught his eye; a horse running toward the town, followed by a small group of others.

Teele stood still in the open street; the breeze carrying a wisp of his blond hair into his face as his heart pounded in his chest...

"Well, she is known for her temper, and dislike of flirts. I think she has a nice side, or she would have killed him," Lillian said. Pointing to the man that had saved him.

Rhue laughed, “I don‘t know if I could believe a woman like her has an ounce of kindness in her.”

He studied Llilian’s beautiful completion, she was so very warm and open. However her looks made him think of snow. She was a most unusual woman.

“tell me where do you come from? If it’s not prying. I‘ve never seen a woman like you before.”

Reede kept his grin as the drinks were brought. It was still early afternoon, and he had no intention of getting drunk. Not after what happened with Nadala that night. But still, he had been long in travel, and the alcohol would put him at ease. The beautiful white-haired woman had joined them at the bar, and was talking to the man Nadala had been threatening. Karis had returned as well. Did that mean...?

Reede smiled. Well, if it did, he wouldn't be seeing much more of Teele today...or especially tonight...

He laughed as he sipped the ale. Nadala had elected for water instead, no doubt thinking the same thing he was about not wanting a repeat performance.

"How've you been, sweetheart?" He asked her teasingly.

Lighteneing cracked and Lliliean saw the bird from the corner of her eye as it swept through and open window. No amount of time could keep her from dispising that bird. It didn't matter that she was often remind that Dawn was a "gift" because that information was rivaled in frequency by the number of deaths in her honor.

"181 181" the bird would cry, "Because of you did they die!" "33! 33! the lives you've taken have you yes!"

Lliliean had once considered raising Mellanor against the bird, but something held the bladed tightly in its sheat on her belt, something was always protecting it from her so that it could live to crow another day.

~<>~
Dawn noticed Lliliean as it made its entrance, but she was not its focus, no, it was the one in black which needed attention. He landed upon her table and looked right at her, "I a Dawn," he said with a voice all too human, "How was your journey?"