• PM To Join • [Brass Boar] What Have We Become

[Pash Raj'oriq]

Ari'nne Hillward

Vhalar 33, 717, Evening

Notes

Playing my NPC, Ari’nne, in present day Rharne. No points will be earned on my part for this entertaining excursion.

As per my usual, some musical inspiration for you:

Saun’s heat had faded and the evenings had become longer, leaving the air crisp and draining the color slowly from the leaves of trees, carefully siphoning the life of things so that once again they could sleep away the cold and wake up something new in the Rebirth cycle. This meant that the taverns of the Earth Quarter became busy sooner, stayed more full of bodies looking to be warm, and once the harvests were finished later in Vhalar, the regulars were even a bit freer with their hard-earned coin. These trials were some of her favorite, to be honest. The hot cycle was always a slim time and too many liquor establishments broke into Ilaren-praising bar fights and tipped horribly, not to mention the stench of unwashed sweat that mingled so sourly with stale ale and smoke.

The Bronze Boar was brimming, the cook fires and the hearth crackling warmly against the evening chill. Working class folks tired from a hard day in the fields filed in with their coin and their needs, but she’d arrived early to enjoy a slow, quiet meal while a few serving wenches chattered with a loud, unashamed eagerness about their exploits with drunk patrons and Daveth carefully cleaned the bar. Ari’nne’s steely gaze was unable to help from watching the serpent half of him whenever she caught a glimpse of his tail. Fascinating. Just as the tavern began to fill with more bodies, she caught his attention, wanting his permission to take the stage, though she knew she didn’t really need it. Their arrangement had been on-going for seasons now and the Ithecal had yet to complain about the coin she brought in for himself and the tips that seemed to always be showered on his staff whenever the raven-haired human graced the stage.

Leaving a few extra coins on the bar with a grin, the bardess and her violin slipped away from her seat at the bar and made their way toward the stage. She wove with familiar confidence through the main room and toward the stage, meeting the gaze of a few patrons with a wink and a smirk. Oh yes, that table looked full of coin tonight. And that one, too. Especially the sad-looking merchant alone. Perhaps even that strange table over there, though she’d lived in Rharne long enough to recognize folks who weren’t native, and that lot most certainly was far from home. Ruffians, perhaps, here to get drunk and cause trouble. Well. She’d have their attentions soon enough. And hopefully some of their coin while she was at it.

Once on stage, she paused to ready herself, an act in itself which had her languidly placing down her violin case and slowly removing it, sure enough giving the tables close enough to the stage quite the show of all she wasn’t offering them for the night, her dark maroon bodice cinched just so enough to border on the scandalous and the flow of her skirt airy and enticing. Her raven hair was worn in a wild mixture of waves and braids, tied up and away to reveal the sparkle of silver in her ears, a metal that drew out the grey of her eyes. Freckled and tanned, she was very obviously confident in her appearance in a way that could have been seen as predatory, especially the way she gauged the crowd once she’d made herself comfortable on stage.

The young man that whistled at her was graced with a wicked laugh, Ari’nne pausing with the violin upon her shoulder and the bow in her delicate hand long enough to brush the threads of his tangle, bringing a blush to his cheeks and inviting him to lean closer, elbows on the table and eyes wide, strumming his desire skillfully. He probably didn’t have much nel, the raven-haired human assumed, but at least he was easy on the eyes so close to the stage.

One last grey-eyed glance around the room, marking her targets, lingering with a slow exhale on their faces, and then the bardess began to play. Her skill was not natural talent but hard work, practice, and a peculiar form of dedication that only she understood, but she was good. The distinct sounds of her violin rose above the crackling of the fires and the din of the crowds, a warm, inviting melody that began to pick up in tempo and temperature, a short introductory piece of music that was clearly meant to entice the crowd, to maybe even get a few of them dancing.

[Noth]

The nights were going to get far colder soon, thought the twilight hybrid as he took his seat at the rented table, having returned with a fresh round of drinks from the bar. It was not as if though the current nights were without their chill, but Noth knew that most nights; barring those in Saun, which really couldn’t even be considered nights in the first place, had at least some chill to them. No, rather he was simply aware that the cold season would be coming into fruition soon, which would mean that their nightly escapades would potentially either benefit or suffer from the change in weather. Zi’da would be a frustration at best given the chill that would potentially give away the location of his followers, but Cylus held the potential for being a very profitable season, so long as those now under his command could learn to operate in the darkness any better than their opponents. Darkness as an operational element was wasted when you were on level grounds with a foe.

Within the Bronze Boar, everything was warm and cozy, the fires scattered throughout the establishment keeping it free of the chill of the outdoors. That sensation of relative comfort had lent itself well to the managers of the establishment as well, because the patrons had grown relaxed and begun to spend far more nels than they truly had any right to spend, especially given that most of them probably had more important things to buy than a dozen drinks. He himself had decided to take his evening meal here with his two comrades, but they had little choice in the matter given that they were not allowed by the captain to consume the meals of the ship until they set sail.

Ears had already had a couple of glasses, and whilst he was fairly moderate in his intake, it had been enough to fluster him somewhat and add a bit of warm blush to his cheeks. He was legitimately smiling too whenever Slip said something vaguely humorous, which was a pleasant change from his usual jittering and nervous tics. Slip herself had already downed far more drinks than her boss could actually remember, and he had seen her scour the room once before, downing leftovers before the staff could come and clean up the tables. The massive consumption of alcohol boiling away in her liver left her a giggling, barely coherent mess, but Noth was not upset at her for her free-spirited nature. They were not working at the moment, and so he was relatively carefree about what his underlings did with themselves. In truth, despite his wrathful temperament and his attitude which focused on conquest and domination, the hybrid did not believe himself to be a very harsh boss, though he could be very strict if it was an urgent matter that needed to be attended.

Noth sipped gently at his own ale, having already finished his first, and now begun to nurse his second. He cast a casual glance around the room, wondering when the food they had ordered would arrive and sate the appetite he was fostering within his stomach, and in that cursory look, he spotted a raven-haired woman who stepped up onto a stage that he had not even noticed. She looked around the room before she had ever reached the uplifted platform, apparently examining each table, and he met her eyes for a brief instant once she looked towards his own.

She was pretty, but not necessarily beautiful, at least, not in the same way that the hybrid had seen before. He took notice of the strange confidence which wove its way into her every step, and the playfully flirtatious way that she dealt with the wolf whistling that accompanied her mounting of the stage. It seemed rather obvious to the hybrid that she had intentionally dressed and prepared for the performance she was about to give, and she must certainly have realized at some point that showing a little skin would garner her the attention she required, even before she got down to the actual playing of her instrument.

The tune which she strummed out upon her instrument was inviting and warm, a curious choice given the tendency for musicians to resort to melancholic tunes with the violin. Nevertheless, it began to pick up in tempo, and a couple of those patrons near the front of the establishment who had been before stood to scour the room, scooping up unaccompanied patrons and inviting them to dance. Slip gazed wide-eyed at the production, her cheeks flushed absolutely red with excitement and booze, and promptly scattered out of her own chair, nearly sending it tumbling backwards in a heap with the force of her escape.

“Aight, which of you two wanna dance?” she slurred, grinning at the pair.

Noth shook his head in calm refusal of the proposal, chuckling slightly at the idea, and the young woman simply shrugged, running a hand down Ears’ arm.

“You’re comin’ then, Earsy.”

She whispered cheerfully, yanking the fellow directly out of his chair and eliciting a slight yelp of surprise from the typically jittery fellow. Soon, the colors of their faces grew to match, one from almost entirely alcohol, and the other almost entirely from embarrassment. Nevertheless, Slip was relentless in her ambitions, and she promptly dragged the wiry fellow out to the floor, intent on having a good time.

It was a pleasant tune, but the hybrid did not wish to leave his seat, and so he simply sat back, nursing his drink, and watched the woman playing her instrument, wondering where she had learned to command a room so rapidly.

[Patrick]

So far Vhalar had been a most interesting season for Patrick, he'd been dealing with enough situational drama to no longer crave any sort of attention. He's managed to kill, bribe, influence, and even endure a kidnapping that included a beating. And for a little bit people began to worry afterwards, that he needed a break from work since all of that had gone down not so long ago. But no. Patrick needed work in his life, otherwise he'd have gone stir crazy over while brooding over what all had gone down. It had been his own stupidity more or less that brought on these chain of events, and while nobody really knew the exact story they were willing to buy the one he told them. He'd been mostly in back inside the kitchen's tonight, while the locals out in the main hall were all about the exciting bustle gathered in the establishment. Saun was over. That meant long raunchy nights at the bar were a thing again, and the people had a whole season of Vhalar to get it in before winter decided to hit.

"Patrick," Daveth called into the kitchen as he poked his head in from the door, "We got a full house tonight so we might need some assistance. Think you can mana-"

"Already on it Dav!" He hollered back as he finished drying off a few of the dishes he'd washed. He needn't look over his shoulder and see to know that the Ithecal already gave him an amused look. With his current task left to handle for later, Patrick took a dry washcloth and somewhat hobbled his way out of the kitchen with a slight limp. Each time he walked he expressed a brief sigh of pain through his nostrils, while a hand pressed at the side of his upper right thigh upon exiting the back room. Now that he'd left the kitchen and made it behind the bar, at his own pace no less, Patrick started down the line of those gathered to see who all needed drinks. He handled each order individually as there were clusters of drinks to provide, some bundled into a group of those accumulated at the bar where the fun seemed to be. With the dancing and music carrying on in the room though plenty of people seemed distracted, and hopefully nobody would pay too close attention to notice the bruising found on the left side of his face.

Five beers, seven ales, three shots of whiskey, wine for the ladies, and three mugs of gin later he'd already been asked the first question; "What in Idalos happened to his face?" Or so the curiously drunken person would ask.

"Bar fight in another part of town," He answered with a wry smile, "you should see the other guy." The jest more or less proved amusing while it rubbed off the intent for a story, the less often he had to divulge the same lie so many times the better in his case. Finally the next in line proved to be a sight unusual for Rharne, a blackened Avriel with not but one wing that somehow seemed quite familiar to Patrick. The bartender narrowed his eyes at first but then remembered, finally, enough to bring up the one question that would remain only between the two of them. If this had indeed been that same Avrial and the dream had been on point, then the answer to the question would come to mind once it had been heard.

"At what time does the lion come t' roar?" He called out to the Avriel with a wry and loose grin, hopeful that the specific answer he waited to hear would come.

[Pash Raj'oriq]

She played and watched the patron’s tangles in their colorful entertainment, the vibrant reactions seen only by her, the threads of feelings her music and so much alcohol elicited from strangers a secret thrill. A few rose to dance, their amusement delicious, and those that did somehow managed to make a space for themselves near the stage, longing to move to the music the dark-haired human coaxed with audible talent from her violin. Once a few came, more followed, and Ari’nne watched the hesitance of a particular pair with interest, though she was perhaps momentarily distracted by the curiosities of the entire table, glance lingering on their dark companion far longer than she should have allowed it.

Looking away, her steely gaze swept the room as she paused between songs, the Brass Boar practically bursting at the seams now with Earth Quarter bodies. Daveth had his hands full, but the Empath could see that he was in his element, the threads of his enjoyment bright in his inhuman tangle. From the kitchen limped a face she knew in passing, though his usually much more appealing visage had been marred by someone else’s fists, it seemed, from her distance on the stage. The colors of deception and fear were a surprise, and Ari’nne watched him hobble about as she finished another song, his path ending where hers had already once lingered.

Interesting.

Returning to watch the small crowd that had now come to dance in front of the stage, the dark-haired musician felt somewhat obligated to give them a bit more of what they wanted, the coins that had somehow poured themselves into the case for her violin pleasing and enticing. A few more patrons seemed to be entertained and it would only be a matter of strumming some generosity before she could probably go home better paid than most nights, so crowded was the Brass Boar thanks to the chill that had begun to creep into the Vhalar air.

And so Ari’nne played a few more dance-worthy tunes, the heated, quick sounds of her violin filling the tavern with moving melodies not unlike the flames that danced in the hearth. She kept her attentions on the pair that had come from the dark creature’s table, the man with decidedly unusual ears was nervous and almost skittish while the small woman was obviously intoxicated and enjoying herself without a care in all Idalos. It was simple enough to play both her violin and strum Ears’ tangle, knotting away his skittish fear, strumming his enjoyment and bravado. What he did with the shift in feelings was, of course, her favorite thing to watch, her steely gaze lingering while she moved and swayed with her last song.

[Noth]

The bustle of the bar had seemingly grown at an exponential rate from the moment the hybrid had entered for a few drinks and a quiet meal with his compatriots to the moment that the young woman had taken the stage and begun to strum her music throughout the establishment. It seemed completely viable that some wandering souls outside of the building had heard the gentle tone of the instrument, and had chosen to enter for the sole sake of listening to the musical interlude in their otherwise dull or gloomy trials. In fact, it had grown to be so busy that the hybrid could hear the calls of the owner of the business calling to his employees to inform them that they had a ‘full house’.

Noth scanned the crowd as best as he was able, crimson eyes flickering from soul to soul in a vain attempt at discerning why they had come, who they were, what they did for a living. Naturally, it was in vain, because seeing what someone looked like couldn’t tell you every single detail about their life, but there were at least some things that could be discerned visually. That one had muddy boots, and yet the streets outside were paved, which meant that they had been outside of the city. He preferred a strong drink, and had a long beard which seemed to be flaked with… were they wood chippings? A lumberjack, then, he concluded astutely.

Another face drew his attention, though it took him several trills to recognize it due to the harsh bruising upon his left side. The twilight hybrid flickered through a series of memories, attempting to decipher where he had seen the familiar visage before him, approaching the bar to get a better look at it, as if though a sudden closeness would reveal the secret he was mentally scouring for, and, in a way, it did assist him. Memory clicked back into conscious thought, the image of a fairground filling his thoughts, the swaying of tents in the wind, the rampant hustle and bustle of patrons and artists as they scattered throughout the great opening like ants.

No…

That had been a dream hadn’t it? He had thought it was a dream… but perhaps he had simply been drugged with some sort of hallucinogenic product, and walked through the introduction for the sake of keeping him delirious so that he would be unable to report anything of it viably to the local law enforcement, and yet still be aware of where he could go to find work. It seemed quite likely that he was still involved in his espionage work, because where else would he have earned the savage bruises along the left side of his face? Supposedly such fights could break out in a bar, but it was clear that he worked here, and if there was one rule among the mongrel hordes of the drunk, it was that one did not bite the hand that poured them their addictive drinks.

Their vision met, eyes flicking to one another as the man took notice of him. Crimson eyes bored into his own, a predatory sensation running through the feathered Avriel as he attempted to make sense of the oddity. He frowned as the fellow spoke, stating something that sounded utterly cryptic if not vaguely familiar. Was that the code that they had agreed upon in the dream? No, not a dream, he reminded himself, unpleasantly acknowledging that he had been overpowered or else quietly poisoned with a drug of some strength before being dragged into an encounter with the seer. Still, the question stood, and he struggled desperately to recover the answer from that long-past conversation. Lions… lions roared at sundown, didn’t they? Or, was it sunset? Were they not the same thing, or would he be specific on the wording?

“Sunset, or so I hear.” He called out, his voice harsh and surprisingly unkind given the otherwise mirthful atmosphere of the establishment. A young woman near him scooted away rapidly, apparently uninterested in the drama unfolding near her, and the Avriel inwardly smirked at the cowardly movement. “Patrick, is it?” He questioned, running a talon gently along the ground, observing it with feigned interest as it slid within the slight dip between a pair of boards. “We have much to talk about, such as how I know who you are.” Blunt, and to the point. He hoped his answer would be satisfactory.

He’d hate to have to tarnish his talons by running them through some incompetent fool.

Strange, he had not expected himself to be quite so direct. The tune of the music, an overarching piece of background, once more came into mental consideration, and the hybrid cast a quick glance over to the young woman who continued paying rapt attention to her instrument, strumming it expertly, and exciting the bar to greater energy.

Elsewhere, a man who had spent the past arc in a state of mortal fear and paranoia was suddenly relieved of his burden for the first time since he had been accursed by fallen Padfoot; whose rotten head now acted as mantle for the dark warlord he served, to bear his mark. He looked at the girl who held his hands now with a different outlook, no longer seeing her as someone who risked everything for the sake of pitiable amounts of joy, but instead, someone who was free from the limitations set by fear such as his own. His hands tensed for a moment, squeezing tighter upon her own as the realization struck him, and he blinked several times, feeling that weight disappear gradually from his form, filled with another sensation which told him to ‘move’, and yet, it was not threatening nor dangerous. And so, with his mind unlocked from its personal imprisonment, Ears danced with young Slip as he had never danced before, finally free of his limitation; at least, for a short while.

[Patrick]

For what felt like the longest while he stared at the figure hard, the very menacing feathered form of what had to be a man. He had to be, yet his physicality so easily gave evidence to the contrary. Still the question had been asked and for that, the answer needed to be just one. One particular phrase that suggested they had in fact met, and their meeting had been accomplished within that of a distant dream. A strange and forgotten piece of a memory, somehow so easily brought to the surface the moment they were somehow meant to cross paths. What was it that Patrick said in that dream? The fates had a sense of irony?

Well in this case they sure as hell did.

He smiled widely as he leaned into the counter next, the answer he heard matching that of the word given that hazy night. Dreams were a fickle thing really, and suddenly that sense of auspicious paranoia became an avid sense of Déjà vu. "Aye," He nodded as the feathery companion mentioned the fact they had a lot to discuss, "Call it fate or destiny if ya will, I think the dream alone speaks volumes about this meetin'." He reasoned as he started to pour a shot of whiskey for the bird man, the glass rested next to Noth's arm as he shrugged with a casual grin about his expression. "Last I knew I'd seen ya at some weird lil' freak show, never once been able t' pull card tricks in my life until that night it seems. Still can't even do it either." He laughed a little to emphasize the matter of the joke, his arms folded for him to lean on over the counter top.

Since he'd finally come to meet Noth in person it seemed there would be more to discuss, other than just the fact they were now physically in front of one another. Even a skeptic like Patrick had to admit; there had to be some tangible force at work here, to bring these two together at a time like this. "I'll be honest I never would've thought it possible we'd be meetin' in person though, now that we have I'm kinda paranoid the Immortals might drop in on us." He implicated with a few glances around the bar and towards the door, what an auspicious day this would've been if they'd indeed met such a being here. "Regardless," He shook his head with a gesture to the shot glass, "drink up friend as the shot's on me tonight." He assured the man with a second look into the crowd, from the looks of it Noth seemed focused on the bard engrossed in her music. Beauty as she was Patrick felt she'd might've been familiar as well, a feeling that didn't seem so surprising now that he'd met Noth for the first time in the real world.

For all he knew the bard was someone he probably knew, considering his other job and it's tendency to service many well paying individuals. But the fact Noth was here meant something else entirely, an opportunity Patrick wasn't going to waste time in investigating before the night's end.

[Pash Raj'oriq]

Ari'nne returned her attention to those who moved to her music, ending her notes on her violin carefully in such a way as to leave everyone in the room with a taste of wanting to hear more. She looked at the crowd carefully, and had anyone noticed, more than one of those she glanced at stood and brought their coin to her violin case that sat open at the edge of the stage. The dark-haired musician smiled and curtseyed, nodded, grinned, or thanked them as they came up.

Setting down her instrument in the lid of the case so as to not obstruct more coins should anyone bring them, she watched Ears and Slip pause and come to the realization that they'd danced together and had a good time. Ari'nne smiled at them, and heard their shy giggles as they returned to the table where both the dark creature and Patrick sat.

Pausing to retie back her equally dark hair and wink at a lingering patron at the foot of the stage, she leapt down and leaned to whisper in the ear of her admirer, pointing to the bar. The young man left, grinning and blushing, already digging out some coin from his pockets as if she'd asked him for a drink. Because she had.

But he didn't have her attention.

Weaving her way through the room, she came to the table where Ears and Slips were just sitting down again. They both looked at her in surprise, and she grinned at them, choosing to lean against the chair that the man she knew as Patrick sat in. He may not have remembered her face, but she frequented enough establishments in Rharne to remember the names and faces of those who worked and spent regular time there,

"Good evening, friends. If the drinks are on you, I seem to think I've just found the best table in the Boar." Ari'nne was breathless from performing, and yet she brushed the tangles of everyone at the table without giving herself away. Curious, of course, but also thirsty, she offered the human a coy grin before her steel-eyed gaze fell upon the dark creature with feathers who dominated the table with his presence, the weave of his emotional threads new and different, uncomfortable and strange. She blinked, her smile faltering for a moment before she continued speaking,

"Have you got room for one more?"

[Noth]

It seemed strange to Noth that he should have the opportunity to interact with someone that he had seen only in dreams. That implied to him that there must have been some sort of true connection between the realm of dreams, and that of reality, because otherwise there were simply no answers which could explain the oddity. What was the connection? Could it be that it was a natural affect, and that it was simply something that had never been documented before? Could it be that he was being interfered with by the Immortals, or… goodness forbid, ‘The Fates’? That thought in particular disturbed him, because if true, it would mean that the very godlings he sought to exterminate were aware of his presence and his potential. If they had indeed interfered and caused the meeting with Patrick, then did that not mean that he was perhaps a pawn of theirs capable of stopping him?

Patrick smiled, and the twilight hybrid found himself staring intently into the minor facial gesticulation, attempting to discern whether or not it was genuine, or perhaps even a grin of malicious intent, the type personified by monsters not altogether unlike himself. He called reference to the Fates that he seemed to admire once more, and the Avriel observed as a glass was filled and placed at his hand. He had watched quite carefully for any hint of poison, and had not located anything, but given the sheer oddity of their circumstances, he found it altogether reasonable not to consume anything that touched the hand of the Seer.

There was brief mention about the oddity of their meeting, and an off-comment about the chance that an Immortal might show up at the bar. The hybrid followed the gestures of the Seer to the door, halfway expecting it to be a sign to an outside observer to allow one of the godlings to enter the establishment and absolutely ruin him. He didn’t doubt for an instant that one of the Immortals would be more than capable of wiping the floor with him if they so desired, and he certainly didn’t want to face one without the assistance of his allies.

“Tell me, Patrick. Are you a worshipper of the Immortals?” He trusted in his ability to tell if the man was lying whenever he decided to answer, and so he watched him intently, like a carrion bird observes a carcass for any hint that its killer still lingers.

There was a brief flicker of movement as Ears and Slip returned to the table, the former looking somewhat flustered at how nonchalant he had been in public, and Slip herself seeming to blush slightly, though he was unsure as to whether it was due to the alcohol or some other external factor. Could it be that she was embarrassed at having danced? That seemed incredibly unlikely to the twilight hybrid, but… more intriguing things were to come, and they stole away his attention from the investigation. A being hovered near one of the table’s chairs, and a brief glance revealed her familiar countenance. The musician. Perhaps she had taken notice of the previous attention he had placed upon her and her musical facets and decided that she might be able to curry favor with him for the sake of free drinks.

“Of course, miss. Please, take a seat.” A feathered hand went for the whisky that had been poured for him earlier, and he recognized that he might accomplish two goals with a single act. He slid the drink towards the girl, careful not to propel it too harshly, and then leaned back in a relaxed state. If she drank, and it was poisoned, then he would know that Patrick was to be killed. If, however, the drink was acceptable, then he knew that the Seer was conceivably not a puppet seeking his demise.

A predatory smile slid across his face, uncontrolled by his conscious thought. “Splendid work, by the way. I felt entranced by your work. It is a true shame that we do not have such beautiful music or bards where I am from.”

[Patrick]

Patrick couldn't help but notice the fact Noth had been quite... well quiet, more observantly so when he tried to strike conversation with the feathered man. It sort of generated a sense of awareness that made Patrick feel unusual, almost awkwardly so as he couldn't anticipate what brought on the behavior. He'd failed to consider that, maybe, Noth had come from a different background, and therefore trusting others to openly converse without fabrications wasn't easy or normal. This however was the everyday for Patrick, no matter what dream brought them together. Albeit the everyday seemed more and more desirable, the more Patrick found himself in more trouble with others.

Finally a question then came, his slight tension a little eased as he grabbed a couple of empty glasses. "Me? As if. I might've learned to respect one in particular, only because she's a bitch if ya treat her wrong, but I can't stand the idea of getting on my knees and praying to some otherworldly divine. Just isn't my style honestly." He admitted with ease as he placed the glassware he cleaned up on the counter behind them, a hand held out to the customer that nearly left without paying for his last few drinks. "Nice try buddy, forgot t' pay for that ya know." The drunk raised his eyebrows out of surprise, and started to fish for the nel from his pockets as Patrick waited. "Tips are also appreciated pal." The guy scoffed and dropped a few silvers in his hand, and moved to teeter his way towards the door while Patrick placed the change in the lock box below.

"Sorry 'bout that." He mused with his attention back on Noth. "We were talkin' about Immortals right?" He inquired just before the bard seemed to approach, determined to request for a join in since her friend got himself a free drink. "Absolutely, don't worry about the drinks. Pretty girls always get the first one free." He teased the woman with a suggestive wink to Noth as well. "Seriously though, we're all here for a good time at least. You definitely helped with that with your music love." He complimented along with the bird man across from him, he finally looked from the lady back to his not so dreamed up friend.

"Anyways the Immortals haven't done much for me, save for a recent brush I had with one that seduced me. Total bitch she is." He reckoned with a fold of his arms on the surface of the bar. "What about you? There any Immortals you two adore or are 'intimately involved' with?" He asked the question with more or less a teasing tone of voice, unaware of the fact Noth probably resented the Immortals worse than he did.

[Doran Cooney]

Noth, Prince of Eternal Mercies

Knowledges
If you would like knowledges added for this thread, please PM them to me!

Loot: N/A
Injuries: N/A
Renown: N/A

Points 15

Patrick Barnell

KnowledgesN/A

Loot: N/A
Injuries: N/A
Renown: N/A

Points 15

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Mm, a fairly long set up into something that might have proved interesting. My favorite bit was definitely Noth's Etzos bred paranoia and offering the drink to someone else. Very clever, haha!

Please edit your grade request, thank you!

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[center][img]/gallery/image.php?album_id=39&image_id=7932[/img]Doran Cooney[/center]