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Post by Rolph on Mar 12, 2011 2:45:03 GMT
"Yes, perhaps he is down in the common room," said Rolph, following Castiel back downstairs. "Or, if not, he may be visiting the outhouse. I cannot imagine where else he might have gone in weather like this. What does Aetos look like? I'll keep an eye out for him too."
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Post by Jynx on Mar 12, 2011 4:21:17 GMT
Jynx put on her most alluring smile and diplomatic tone, “Good evening sir, I apologize for pulling you away from your work. I’m actually looking for the location of a few rooms of some new friends of mine.” Jynx then gave a very detailed description of the men at the table. As she did so, her smile changed to be one of warmth mixed with a bit of coyness. “I wanted a chance to get more acquainted with them.”
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Post by Ilia Underwing on Mar 12, 2011 4:26:10 GMT
Ilia kept an eye on the table that was once again filling up with people. She noticed one glancing her way, but did not draw attention that she noticed. She tidied her table, chatted with customers, and busied herself until the return of food with the Lady. In whatever free time in which she was not dealing with all of these things, she thought about the upcoming Winters Night and what tasks she had at hand regarding it.
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Post by Maerin on Mar 12, 2011 16:49:54 GMT
“Lady,” the innkeeper responded as he glanced significantly about the crowded and chaotic common room, “do you really think I have any idea where all everyone here might be sleeping? It is difficult enough being certain I get my fair coin from all present. If you do not want to ask those you are . . . interested . . . in for directions, then follow when they finally retire.
“Is there something else I can do for you?” It was clear that the innkeeper was already distracted by something Jynx did not make out across the room, and wanted to be off to deal with the next issue in his busy night.
***
Ilia had not seen Medwyn since that night in the Temple of Ohrido. He had asked her to return to Bautar, if she could, but had said nothing about what would happen if she did. That thought brought again to her mind the vision forced on her during the final, horrific confrontation with the Swamplord. As if summoned by unspoken words, a part of that vision returned. The memory was, even months later, perfect and it riveted her in place . . .
“You know he will not agree, Fennic.”
Magnalord Fennic sat in one of the comfortable chairs near one of the windows. The nominal political leader of Bautar, at least so far as the outside world was concerned, held a goblet of wine. He slowly swirled the wine within, contemplating it as he listened to a man Ilia did not know. The stranger was dressed simply, without the pouches and tools that Ilia typically retained, but was still obviously an Herbalish.
“Perhaps not. What of it? Medwyn is not the entire Great Circle. He is one voice. Respected, yes. He has earned that respect, I remind you. But he is one voice.”
“Medwyn’s voice is more than that of one man. He’s a mountain. A mountain among trees. ” The stranger remarked in apparent irritation. “He can carry a decision like this one by his will alone. He has before.”
“If he does,” Fennic replied calmly. “Then he does. That is the nature of things. I do not see how this matters to me, in any case. This is a matter for the Herbalish, not the Herbwardens. “
“You know better, Fennic. This will involve your people too. Perhaps even more than it will eventually involve me and mine. To succeed, this plan will require the Herbwardens to step aside and let nature take its course. Can I count on your support when the time comes.”
Fennic considered the other man for a long, silent moment. Finally, Magnalord broke the silence.
“If. And I do mean if, because I find it unlikely, the Great Circle approves this plan…then I and mine have no choice but to…as you put it…step aside. That is also the nature of things.”
Fennic’s gaze and tone hardened. ”But if you think I am going to offer you some kind of advance approval, as some kind of political coin you will try and spend at the Great Circle, you are sadly mistaken. Our people support life.”
“Do we.” The stranger’s question, dripping sarcasm, was no real question. “Do we really. There are those who would argue otherwise.”
“And you will have your chance to argue otherwise to the Circle.” Fennic replied. “You can expect that mountain you fear will stand tall amoung the trees against you and whoever you have managed to talk into supporting you. Medwyn will remind them all how much your words sound like those of the Cenarese, long ago, who sought to lead our people down a similar path to ruin.”
“You dare?!” the stranger snarled.
“Yes” Fennic’s response was calmly level, though there was cold steel under it. “I dare. And I daresay, you will find more than just I willing to say so, if you are so foolish as to go through with your plan. I guess you better get used to it.”
The stranger rose, casting his goblet at the casement. Red wine splashed over the stones as the glass shattered. He glared at Fennic, who remained seated and calm.
“The Circle will back me. Prey fear the predators. They do not rule them. Pray to Ishir that I do not remember this meeting when next I set foot in Talon, Magnalord Fennic!”
The stranger stormed out of the room. Fennic, left alone, suddenly looked old and immensely weary, as he stared in silence at the stained casement stones. Not the right color for blood…but all too near.
Ilia shook herself, and looked about. No one had apparently noticed her distraction.
***
The new acquaintances gathered again at the table to talk. Eruhs had apparently shed his armour as had been suggested, and all noticed that had apparently been enough for the pair of suspicious watchmen to be about other business.
Castiel cast his gaze about the hall. He did not see Aetos anywhere, but realized the crowd and haphazard collection of mini-stalls actually set up in the room could easily conceal the man. This was one of the largest inns in Talon, and so the common room interior was practically a market square in its own right.
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Post by Lorenic on Mar 13, 2011 19:37:30 GMT
Eying the scholar's out stretched hand, Lorenic contemplated his offer. He had known many soldiers who had issues re integrating back into society smoothly after battle. And some hints say that his scholarly friend might be one of them. But Lorenic did miss having someone looking out for his back. And being an ex soldier he knew what he was about, unlike most of the green ears that wield a armament for looks.
"Eruhs, I do not know what my journey has in store for my ambitions, nor how long it will take. But if your willing to see the world, and put up with my goals, then I gladly welcome you to travel with me." Lorenic exclaimed warmly and shook his friends outstretched hand.
Not to long after, those that had headed upstairs came back to the table and joined them. Thinking they had retired for the evening, Lorenic was surprised to see them back so soon. "Did you find who you were looking for?" Lorenic asked the Vassa, and to the dwarf, "Were your lodgings needs secured?"
Waiting for there responses, Lorenic was happy to see that his life was picking up again, and that his goal may be helped with this, and possibly these, new found friends.
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Post by Eruhs Ohf Leitus on Mar 14, 2011 10:37:04 GMT
Shaking Lorenic's hand with glee, Eruhs appeared to be pleased and excited with Lorenic's response. "May our journeys be fruitful, and may we see our dreams accomplished." Eruhs released Lorenic's hand as he turned and called the barmaid over in the same fashion as he had previously done, this time ordering a goblet of wine along with another mug of ale.
When the rest of the patrons who were originally sitting with them gathered back to the table, Eruhs sat and listened intently as they made conversation with one another, attempting to make small-talk with Altor: "Have you ever had wine before? I'd imagine you'd be hard pressed to come across the appropriate fruits and components to brew a fine glass, considering the underground cities where Dwarves make their homes. It is usually much more strong than Human ale, and you may like it, if you don't mind more of a sour or spiced-fruit flavor with your brew. If you dislike Human ales, you may at least enjoy the intoxicating attributes and aromatic qualities of our wine."
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Post by Castiel on Mar 14, 2011 18:13:48 GMT
Castiel turned over to Rolph to answer his question "Aetos has similar olive skin to mine, but his facial features are a bit harsher. The man has seen some some stress over the years. He is ten years my senior, and has some gray hairs starting to dust his dark hair. Very friendly fellow and always welcomes conversation, so most likely you will see him within a group. We shall run into him soon enough, I dont believe he ventured outside."
Seeing the companions talking in such good spirits Castiel shed a smile. "Seems as if it dos not take long to find a traveling companion in these parts. It is nice to find that not all tempers are hot and harsh at the moment". Gesturing to everyone, Castiel presented a question "Does anyone know of a game we could play, something from your homeland? I am always intrigued by a new game".
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Post by Altor "Al" Cloudscraper on Mar 14, 2011 19:14:16 GMT
Altor cocked his head towards Erus. "Methinks you are thinking o' the Dwarfs o' Bor. They are the great Mountain Dwellers. I hail fae Boradon, tae the south. There we live above, not below, the peaks. We have turned the valleys between our mountains intae some o' the greatest farms and valleys the mind can imagine," says Altor, his obvious pride in Boradon overtaking, at least momentarily, his cautious nature.
"We dae make wine, but not in vast amounts, and unfortunately not as well as from some other parts, I am afraid. Brew, on the other hand, we dae make well, very well indeed! It is not that I dislike human ale," says Altor, afraid he may have offended the human, "it is just that over the years one becomes... accustomed... tae certain flavours. Yet I be a Dwarf, and Dwarf's dae like ale, so I will be joining ye for one or two o' those this evening methinks!"
Turning tae Castiel, Altor looks momentarily confused. "Games, ye mean like what younglings play, or games o' chance? I am no a big fan o' games o' chance, and me people are not much for games. Stories, yes, we love stories, but games are really no our thing."
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Post by Rolph on Mar 15, 2011 0:35:00 GMT
"I've put into port in Boden before and had a chance to sample the ale," said Rolph. He looked around the common room for anyone matching the description of Aetos as he spoke. "It is indeed of high quality. As for games, I know various games that are popular among sailors. When you're at sea for long stretches of time, they help to stave off boredom. They generally are of the gambling variety. There's Portholes, but we'd need special dice for that. Samor and chess are common pastimes as well, and ones I particularly enjoy, but again we'd need a board and pieces, and only two can play. There are also card games, and I'm sure we could scrounge up a deck somewhere. Still, I do like Altor's idea of telling stories instead. They need no components, and we can all participate."
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Post by Jynx on Mar 15, 2011 2:51:43 GMT
Jynx smiled pleasantly at the innkeeper. She knew there was a high chance the man wouldn’t remember the faces of his tenants in this organized chaos. Jyxn temporarily put the idea of getting to know interesting group to the back of her mind as she gave the ecstatic yet flustered man a nod before saying. “No, that’s all. Thank you.”
Leaving the innkeeper to go about his demanding task of keeping his business running, Jynx caught a free barmaid and asked her to deliver some food to the druidess Ilia’s stand. After giving the woman a description and location of her comrade’s stand, Jynx again went into the crowd to gather more information about the Magnalord and his rumored whereabouts during the days before and the day of the Winter’s Night festival.
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Post by Ilia Underwing on Mar 15, 2011 2:56:31 GMT
Ilia stood by her stand, unsure of what to do next. She felt inexplicably drawn to the table of strangers, but was unwilling to make a move towards them. She didn't move, conflicted and lost in her thoughts.
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Post by Maerin on Mar 15, 2011 5:49:54 GMT
The new companions continued their conversation. The waitress brought around drinks for all, deftly collected coin from those who accepted, and disappeared again.
Around them, the conversations in the hall slowly grew merrier. The weather outside appeared not to damper the mood at all. The occasion song arose in the hall. A couple of the merchants began taking down their stands, though most remained ‘open’ yet.
Ilia saw that the odd collection of men at the table seemed content to converse with each other for now. And so she could watch them from her stand.
***
“Not strange you should ask, milady,” one of the waitresses stopped to speak with Jynx on the way back to the bar with an empty platter cradled under one arm. “Many indeed would like to know that very thing.
“Our Magnalord, you see, always rides through the market squares in the weeks leading up to Winter’s Night. This holiday has been the tradition of the Magnalords of Bautar for centuries, and is very important to us Taloners.
“But this horrible weather. We all feared it would ruin everything.” The waitress glanced about the room. “Through the grace of Ishir smiling on us this winter, it has not. The Magnalord was said to have encouraged these indoor markets. Then, when innkeepers raised concerns about ruinous upkeep, the Magnalord actually paid my master and others sufficient to see to damage and repairs. The coin keeps a couple dozen local laborers working on just this building, when this room is closed.
“No one has seen the Magnalord appear at any of these indoor markets. Not that I am aware of. And it is a real shame that, since he should see how happy he has made everyone. Even with this bad weather. But I hear he stays at the Hall, working hard to find some solution to the weather. I hope he succeeds.”
The woman shrugged. “Then the rains will stop and he’ll be able to leave the Hall and tour the city as he always has before. Many miss him now.
“Kings and queens hide away from their people in their high, lofty castles and such. I am sorry, milady, if that offends. But it is true of many lands, I hear. Not Fennic. He is one of us. A Bautarine; first, last and only. We would like to see him celebrating with us. He is doing so much to make Winter’s Night this year a good one, in spite of this horrid rain.”
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Post by Eruhs Ohf Leitus on Mar 15, 2011 20:18:08 GMT
"Oi. I have a story for you." Eruhs said, the alcohol intensifying his already, beaming personality. Eruhs drank the glass of wine in an instant, following it up immediately by swallowing a mouthful of ale.
"When I was a mercenary, I used to fight on the frontlines in skirmishes against Drakkarim. My comrades, after my advancement, had granted me the title of Commander Leitus." Eruhs took another drink. "It's uncommon for a mercenary leader to take to the front, but I had become accustomed to being in the midst of the fray. Though I may appear to possess a friendly persona at most times, I am well aware that my personality tends to shift in the face of adversity, a trait that I've found to be valuable in my line of work." Eruhs finished off his mug, slamming it onto the table before he continued again.
"Near the end of our last campaign, I found myself battling internal demons; figuratively, of course. A debate arose in my mind, wondering if bloodshed alone would be enough to end the threat of the Darklords. Ultimately, my conclusion was that a formidable, military force is definitely a needed element in these times. Furthermore, a stronger unity between the allied nations needed to be built. Since my leave of absence from the fields of battle, I've been continuing my attempt to compile written documentation of the allied nations, drawing comparative lines between their similar ideals. With these findings, it is my hope that the alliance grows more powerful. Commonality between the people of Magnamund could prove to be quite useful. A tightly-knit group of soldiers will always function far better than a rabble of assorted marauders. In the end, loyalty and trust will prove itself as one of our most effective, tactical advantages." Eruhs spoke his words with pride and ambition, much more serious in nature than his earlier behavior.
Eruhs looked about, and noticed he had done away with all of his drink. "Miss!" Eruhs seemed to revert immediately back to his usual rambunctiousness as he spoke to a passing barmaid. "This doesn't seem to be lasting me very long. This time, I'll have two lagers, a stout, a double-bock, a cherry-lambic ale and another glass of wine." He said with cheer.
"Oi, Altor." He turned to the Dwarf. "Have you had a lambic brew? Traditionally, it is brewed in regions with more precipitation. Certain cultures find it to be a desired infection in their drink, utilizing special yeasts that grow in the area. It's brewed with various fruits, and has a sour aftertaste. Some find it to be comparable to a cider. If that doesn't hold your interest, a bock might be something you'd enjoy. Studying other cultures has granted me awareness into the different styles of brew from their respective origins. A byproduct of this research has led to, needless to say, a deep thirst for exotic brews."
Eruhs turned back to the barmaid before she left the area. "If you don't have all of those drinks here, please, just bring extras of another variety. Also, I can compensate you for bringing me a lambic from any merchants who happen to be selling that particular drink, if that sounds fair. If not, more ale is perfectly acceptable."
Eruhs sat back down, awaiting any questions or responses from the barmaid and his friends, when a small bird landed on one of the empty mugs. "Oi, bird. Shoo. Go to your master." Eruhs tried shooing the bird off of the mug with a hand, but it just began to chitter even more wildly. Eruhs, amused with the little, winged being, smiled and told the bird he was going to take it back to it's owner. Eruhs lifted the mug on which the tiny owl was perched, and carried it towards the crowd of merchants. "Oi! Who's lost their bird? Anyone missing a small owl?" He moved through the crowd, bellowing loudly, looking for a response as his free hand stroked the feathers on the bird's diminutive chest.
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Post by Altor "Al" Cloudscraper on Mar 15, 2011 20:35:08 GMT
The man sure likes to talk, thought Altor. And drink. He was definitely the open type, surely Altor could learn more about humans from him.
"What de ye mean yer men voted fer yer rank? How does that work?" Altor asked, truly confused. Rank was appointed from higher ranks, not given from below, surely he must have mishear the human. All the accents were still fairly new to him, and besides Vassa was not his first language.
"As fer the different types o' ale, I can try something new, if ye think a Dwarf would like it.
"Ye say ye have been tae Boradon? What brought ye tae me homeland? I trust it was fer yer writings and not yer former trade? Ye look far tae much intact fer the later!"
While not as strong as Dwarf brewed ales, Altor was finding the combination of warmth in the inn, and the alcohol, was making him more receptive to conversation than he was accustomed to around strangers.
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Post by Ilia Underwing on Mar 15, 2011 20:35:31 GMT
Ilia felt a soft nibbling on her ear. Without realizing it, she had let her head tilt sideways until it was resting on top of Peep, not giving him much room to stand upright. He clicked his beak at her as she put her head upright again, wondering what had her distracted. She couldn't explain to the little owl, but simply pointed out the table that caught her attention. Rhia began snapping her beak at Ilia, wanting her attention as well. When Ilia absentmindedly put her hand up to reassure the other little owl, Rhia began nibbling on her finger, wanting true attention. Seeing that she wasn't going to get it while her human was distracted by this table of human-types, she took matters into her own hands.
Feeling Rhia take off from her shoulder snapped Ilia out of her distracted trance. She blinked rapidly, and then focused on the little grey girl. Rhia flew over to the table and landed atop one of the mugs of ale. There, she puffed out her feathers, glared around the table, and began chittering and snapping her beak at those who stole her rightful attention.
Ilia started out to retrieve the little owl, but paused, and decided that it was more amusing than detrimental, and let Rhia speak her piece.
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