The Tavern

[rosallora]

[Aurora]

She looks up as the door opens, and her guardian angel re-enters her life. She smiles having laid down and relaxed for a while. "Thank you so much for that. You're an absolute life-saver." Aurora doesn't want to shift too much - she was all done up in stitches and the like. But she does incline to her chin to her, and gets a pillow under her so she can be in a better position to drink.

"Don't you worry about the price. Beggars can't be choosers." She extends a hand to her, glad to have her back. She was missing out on the attention.

[rosallora]

[Ezekiel]

He was taken in by the tale - and who wouldn't be? His eyes go wide at the mention of the strange creature. Did it have a name? It certainly had a face, as the man said. Horrid! Exciting! What a wonderful story it was. And story, yes, is what the woman with them did emphasize. But there was truth in every story, and even if this man had swallowed his own body weight in seawater, there was always something. Always a grain of the truth. And every raving lunatic deserved an audience! There was a need to be heard in this world.

He nods, strokes his beard. He sets the empty cup back on the bar, and pats the man's back. "Such a trouble! But you have returned, at least."

[porkylabrador]

Kat couldn't help but scent the air a little as the "orb" transitioned into a "gem." The mere notion of glittering treasure was enough to make her mouth moist. Her scarred digits drummed excitedly against the equally tarnished pewter that held her ale. "A woman in skins after gems, eh? Finally! A relatable character!." Perhaps it was the booze? Perhaps it was the greed? One thing that was certain was that the waif's posture relaxed itself a little, paws no longer instinctively searching for her cleaver's familiar handle.

"Now that is intersting." Kat affirmed. The statement became fact in her stupoured mind. "I couldn't have parted with it, I don't think."

[Kidney]

Semyon settled in his chair, a bit of sadness lurking in his eyes. The Gold, aye, it was good. But within that gold lay no gem, no real glory like the stories, stories that didn't have an end, an end that had already come and gone. The time between when he spoke last and began again was enough to cause concern, "Something in me...is called to go back." He says, taking another surprisingly belabored drink from the mug. Whether he forgot how to put it down, or felt it necessary to chug the rest, it didn't matter. In a few moments the drink was gone, and Semyon set the container gently back on the bar. "Got to go back. Got to." 

[rosallora]

[Ezekiel]

The man hums his consideration, though a smile slips his lips at the waif as she relaxes. Finally! A good sign. But the man begins talking - he seems obsessive. "Now now," the veteran chuckles, "don't let the mission be in vain! You managed to emerge alive - you've passed along your tale of heroism! And warned of a vile and terrible enemy that may be within our midst." he looks about conspiratorially, as if the woman was with them in the tavern (and technically, he was not wrong in that assumption). "So relax, my friend. There's no need to feed the beast!"

Ezekiel himself set down the cup, standing from the counter. He clapped a heavy hand to Semyon's shoulder, then nodded to the lass. "Seeing as you're both seen to... I'm going to find my way about. But have a lovely night, you two."

[dewdrop]

"Glad to see you haven't been up on your feet and moving around," Cyrus said earnestly. Striding through the room, she set the bottle of strong booze down on the rickety end table that stood beside the occupied bed. "Had too many folks in my care who think they're tough enough that their stitches won't burst."

It was always nasty business in the field when someone in her care decided they were fit to go on fighting. Usually, they never even saw combat from then on. The stitches burst on them before they met any rival combatant, and they went down bleeding anyways.

"You think you can drink on your own, or do you need my help?" Cyrus asked, biting the inside of her cheek.

[artoriaswalker]

The new seeker would arrive through the tavern door, clad in steel and azure cloth, her helmet covering her face, though not for long. As she walked to seat herself a long black braid swayed with her cloth, the braid reaching to her rear and adorned with many beads. 

A long sigh leaves the woman's voice, one that echoed with her helmet on, and upon finding herself an empty table, she would free her cranium of its steel cage. Her scarred brow and soft complexion on display with her eyes remaining rather lazy, almost disinterested with her environment or more likely, not processing it well at all. The clattering of flagons, the cries of loss and triumph through gambit, the moans of pleasure from adultery; it was all foreign and wrong to this woman's mind, chaotic as it may be. In time, will she find meaning and purpose to life's indulgences. 

[twostepsback]

Charis slunk into the tavern, still in her expedition gear. She honestly finds places like this more than a tad overwhelming, but her need for a strong drink outweighs her aversion for such places.

[artoriaswalker]

The woman's eyes looked rather cold and dead, despite the fact that her eyes were a very pale gray color, it was her expression the left her whole look rather blank. Her eyes wandered the tavern and eventually looked on at Charis, who now entered the tavern garbed in gear fit for the dungeons lining the hallowed grounds. She stares at the woman she herself a shining and exposed like a jewel freshly dropped onto the dirt, her armor playing mostly into the fact. Crowning her head was a circlet, adorned with a blue gemstone, matching her cloth in coloration.

[twostepsback]

Getting a mug of ale from the tavernkeeper, Charis parked herself in the seat across from the presumed 'new arrival'. Tugging down the dark cloth covering her mouth, Charis uttered a quick "Hello" before taking a sip of her ale.

[artoriaswalker]

The woman bowed her head before the woman, seating herself across from her within the booth, she examined both the drink she carried and the mask on her person, deciding not to speak open judgment just now. Her voice would soon return Charis' greeting, her voice quiet and soft-spoken for the moment.

"Hello." She would say, quietly observing the woman and her drink, only briefly looking to her empty pockets and simply rolling her shoulders and idly staring about the tavern, still taking a good bit of time to take in the environment and all its chaotic madness.

[twostepsback]

Charis decides to cut to the chase. "Are you new around here?" She asks point-blank, as she takes another sip of her ale.

[artoriaswalker]

The woman bowed her head, guilty of that fact. She parted her lips briefly to further assert her position.

"I arrived but a few hours ago, a long journey on the old road, one met with particular groups of folk."

[twostepsback]

"Don't worry; I'm still fairly new myself. I've only been on one expedition... Tried to join a few others, but they've all gone belly-up before the outset, for one reason or another." Charis remarks as she sets aside the ale mug.

[artoriaswalker]

The woman nodded her head just a bit, taking in the information being drawn and thrown towards her. Taking but a brief moment to process it she would then lift her head to face Charis, a faint and pale smile molded itself upon her sculpt.

"Myrian is the name, and I pride myself on at least being able to hold my own in most situations, a master of none some would say." Myrian would say within an explanation of her general role in combat.

"The frontlines often leave you alone or needing to take charge where others won't, and with the holy star as my guide, I burn a path forward." She would continue to hammer in the point of her role and showing her religious ties in vocalization.