The Tavern

[twostepsback]

"Charissa 'Charis' Colter. Nominally I'm a Sister with the 'Dawn Light' sect, but I'm really a one-trick pony when it comes to channeling the Light." Charis explains ruefully, before pulling a glass vial out of her bandolier. "Luckily I discovered that I have a talent for alchemy, so if you need someone to harry and hobble your foes, I'm someone you can turn to."

[artoriaswalker]

"Clarissa, the alchemist, how quaint. Suppose the arts leave a variety of options in which to maim and restore." Myr would voice as a response.

"What have you there?" She said gesturing to the vial before glancing at her flagon of ale she herself unable to afford the leisure drink for now.

[twostepsback]

"Charissa, with a hard 'K'. And this," Charis then adds as she holds out the vial of dusky blue syrup, "Is a prototype paralytic, I call it 'Mohrg's Kiss'."

[artoriaswalker]

"Charissa non the less." Myrian would say with a small smile across her painted features. Her eyes piercing the glass and into the blue vial before her gaze returned to the woman's face.

"Mohrg's kiss, interesting choice if I say so myself. A Paralytic but how strong? Amp to take out an ox or merely for the human form." She would ask, genuine curiosity filling her mind now about this woman's profession and works.

[twostepsback]

"It's meant for humans. And it's localized, a few drops into an open wound will leave a limb 'feeling like a block of wood, and about as mobile', as one volunteer put it." Charis explained. "It's still a prototype, though. I managed to get this serum to do what I want, but the window of effectiveness is still too unpredictable."

[artoriaswalker]

The woman pursed her lips, taking the information of this vial in and relaying it to her knowledge of the hamlet.

"So no clue what it can do to other things yet..can't imagine what else other than brigades currently." She would voice quietly before incling towards the woman.

" What do you do for entertainment in this bleak place, I have little coinage with me I'm afraid."

[twostepsback]

"There is... Honestly not a lot to do around here. Most of the people around here busy themselves with their own hobbies and distractions." Charis remarks as she gives her ale a look.

[artoriaswalker]

"So as drab as it looks. Suppose it is better than nothing, but can't imagine people stick around if there is nothing to gain. I'll find out for sure come my time on the lines." Myr would voice quietly as she sits back.

[kodissajumissa]

The tavern, although form out and leaking from roofs, was surrounded by talkative people and laughter. Their cheerfulness mostly fueled by ale and whine. Regardless it was a welcoming place for the people of the Hamlet. It was somewhere where one can pretend to forget all the terrors outside the town and enjoy themselves.



Group of party goers stepped outside to chat and laugh while one of them revealed themselves in the alley. Still dressed in padded clothes and armor hanging loosely on their chest, these heroes of the flame were on a well earned break, changing their loot for booze, games and loving company. As they stepped back inside to celebrate, another person joined behind them, stepping through the door unnoticed.



Vane looked around the room as the soldiers moved out of the way. The tavern sounded like chatter, dice clicking and he could swear he heard bed squeaking upstairs. The place was full of depravity, but it was cozy. Merry even. It beat the cold rainy air outside for sure. It was everything Vane had heard of the tavern to be from fellow travelers. So Vane tried his best to blend in. He wrapped the cloak around himself tightly to cover his chains and stepped towards the bar, taking deep breaths to steady himself as he moved through the loud crowd. The smell of people’s sweat, the laughter, the loud clanks of dishes and weapons assaulted his senses, even the stickiness of the floor felt too much. Vane knew he couldn’t stay here for too long, so he pushed himself past the lines and spoke to the tavern keeper. “Pardon. I am in a hurry. May I have some supper to go?” He partially lied. The thought of food made his stomach growl. It felt like the beast was growling at him from the inside. Steady. Steady now… Vane repeated in his head.
"The slop doesn't cook any faster to you than anyone else. Wait for your turn" The innkeeper responded while busy pouring more drinks for the customers.

[ricarditoreyes]

On the far side of the tavern, amidst the laughter and revelry, Eileen Redsworth finds herself in a bind. In the stubbornness that comes with age, she insisted that her ale would be on the town tonight. She thought the liveliness of the tavern and the flowing booze would dull the senses, and spotting a middle-aged farmhand, slipped a couple loose coins from pocket to pocket. This one, however, was unusually perceptive that night. Noticing the lightness in his pockets and the old woman slinking further into the crowd, he decided to follow.

Now, the two stood locked in a quiet stalemate. The farmhand perhaps felt a slight guilt of accusing an older lady of doing such a thing, yet those loose coins were more important to him than Eileen had realized.

"If ye didn't lift it, ye sure as hell saw who did." he said, in a hushed tone. "Spit it out then, hag."

"Ha, please. You don't look like you had much to begin with, dear." Eileen replies, hoping to ease the tension with a desperate attempt at banter.

"Listen, you..."

The farmhand leans in, unamused, as Eileen sees the tensing in his jaw. She searches the room for an out, spotting a cloaked, unkempt man by the tavern keeper. He appeared uncomfortable, for reasons Eileen couldn't possibly know. Furthermore, her time to fathom such facts ticked down quickly. In deep desperation, she turns to the stranger, nodding and waving him over. With her tendency to jump to conclusions, she assumed that at the very least she would find whether honor amongst thieves and the downtrodden truly existed, and with every fiber of her being hoped that this stranger would go along with her hastily improvised plan.

Finally, with a soft wave ignoring the infuriated man towering over her, she calls out:

"Ah, my old drinking partner! Come on over, won't you dear?"

[kodissajumissa]

Vane sighed and tried making himself comfortable enough to wait in the bar. It wasn’t as bad here when one gets used to it. If he wasn’t so exhausted from the journey, he might enjoy the party too. No, no. That was too risky. Just get some rations and eat outside. Who knows how the fiend would react if some drunk pumped into him? Looking at the regulars here, Vane figured that was more common than you’d think.



And then he saw the woman waving at him. Vane looked behind his back to see if she meant to wave someone over there. No? The woman was gesturing at him! She was calling him a drinking partner too. She was obviously bluffing. Vane had no partners nor someone to drink with. He wasn’t a social type to begin with. This was a trap for sure and Vane should just turn his back or run… but on the other hand. He did need help. He needed someone that knows people. Someone who could take him to one of the expeditions so he could work his pay. Based on her battered cloak, mask and knives, she might just be what Vane was looking for.



“Ah yes. My good friend! I’m so glad to finally make it to Hamlet. It’s been so long. Is this man bothering you?” Vane improvised and walked over to Eileen, leaning in close and keeping a watchful eye on the farmhand.

[ricarditoreyes]

Eileen let loose a deep sigh of relief, as her "drinking partner" noticed her and approached. She had prayed Vane would not simply step away quietly as most in his situation would, and although it was the best she had hoped for, she still found herself presently surprised her half-baked plan appeared to be working.

"No, no, he was just leaving I believe," she replies, as she turns back to the farmhand. "My partner here would tell you, both our fortunes combined couldn't quench my thirst." She lets out an awkward chuckle, turning to Vane, and back to the now confused man standing before her. "Now, if you'll excuse us, me and my friend here have a lot of catching up to do."

Still clearly dissatisfied, the farmhand relaxes his shoulders slightly, thinking of whether to pursue this further. Though the revelry of the tavern made it so the other denizens barely noticed the situation, he was outnumbered and sober enough to know accusing an old woman with little evidence and making a scene would most likely not end well. Dejected, he pounds a fist on a wall subtly, muttering curses under his breath.

"Blast it all", he says, as he turns to rejoin his table, dejected.

Eileen smiles quietly, gesturing towards Vane to have a seat at a table by the two. She carefully watches the farmhand as he returns to the other side of the tavern, disappearing into the drunk and dancing mass. Once she is certain he is out of earshot, she finally turns to Vane.

"Well, I certainly hope you aren't actually an old drinking partner of mine!" she says with a smile, as she readjusts her glasses, "If you were, I'd best visit the sanitarium and get my head checked".

She closely examines her timely savior. His tattered clothes and buckled cloak suggested the two were in the same line of work. Furthermore, having mentioned he had mentioned he only made it to the Hamlet. A traveler or mercenary, perhaps? She had been on the streets of the Hamlet for quite some time now, and was familiar with the faces of most beggars and pickpockets. This face, however, was completely new. Intrigued, she speaks up:

"Appreciate you helping out back there, dear. I feel I owe you a round, at the very least, for your performance. Care to have a seat?"

[catboywizard]

A young, scrawny man walks into the tavern, his face and attire showing he shouldn't be here- in a dark place like this. Black and gold robes, a tired look before he has even entered the dungeons... His eyes are moderately tired, and he looks brand new too the hamlet- due too him still having hope in his eyes.

He looks like he is in his late teens, and further solidifies the fact he doesn't look like a man that belongs here, yet here he is.
He sits down near the Alchemist, he looked uncomfortable. Odin left his baggage in the inn, and came back here mainly because there are only two people he knows...

"Hey you two, uhm..." He waves too the two, his face is pink slightly- he isn't used too talking too people, despite his knack for knowing their feelings and helping them.
"I'm sorry for not helping much, I couldn't carry much too the cart..." It's not that Odin hadn't been quick too help- but the fact was he was only able too carry 3 bags...He didn't do much, really.

His voice is gentle, soft- almost soothing too simply hear.

He looks uncomfortable too, come to think of it. 

...His book makes those who look at it either uncomfortable or curious, the book eminates...evil? Darkness, not an evil, just darkness, but the wielder doesn't.

[kodissajumissa]

Vane watched as the farmhand walked away cussing. He didn’t know what had happened beforehand to cause the man to be so angry. He wasn’t even sure he did the right thing. But at least now he was invited to sit down for a drink, exactly what he was hoping for.

“T-thank you” he muttered as he pulled himself a chair. He still eyed the tavern around them nervously, but he was glad to have someone to talk to. “Nay we don’t know each other. But I'm blessed to have some company… and a drink. I just arrive at Hamlet this evening and I’m exhausted” Vane continued as he made himself more comfortable on the seat.

He was about to carry the conversation further to ask about going on a campaign, but then another new face interrupted them. It was the innocent looking boy… man? Boy that traveled with them. “Oh. Yes, we traveled here with him” He said and gestured Odin to Eileen like introducing them. “Worry not. I didn’t have much to carry on me anyway”

“I uhm… My name is Vane” Meanwhile as Vane talked, the fiend hiding inside him sensed something. It was the book! It smelled of evil spirits and power. I kinship to the demon perhaps? As Vane figured out who to offer a handshake first, his right hand, the one surrounded by shackles, made his way out of the cloak and tried reaching for the book. The chains made a loud clack as the arm tugged on them.

[ricarditoreyes]

As Vane told of his recent arrival, Eileen is kindly reminded of the day she had stepped off that bouncing racket of a stagecoach. There was not much to remember of that day but the pain in her back. What has it been? Months, years even, since her own arrival to this squalid town stead.

"Ah, I see," she replies, "Don't expect every night at the tavern to be as exciting as this one, dear, it's typically rather quaint. If you don't mind the noise, that is."

As she examines Vane closely, trying to discern the purpose of his visit, Eileen notices the young man approach her and her new acquaintance. Another fresh arrival, apparently. The two didn't seem overly familiar with one another. She turned to observe the young man carefully, giving a quiet wave and a nod as Vane gestured towards him.

"A pleasure, Vane. I'm Eileen."

Amidst the introductions, she turns towards the young man expectantly. In the corner of her eyes she noticed a shackled hand slinking it's way out of Vane's tattered cloak, moving slowly towards a book on the young man's tome. Eileen decided to stay quiet, watching the chained limb carefully. After all, who was she to judge? She had a bad habit of fishing in other people's pockets herself. With her curiosity piqued, she decided not to interfere.