((((OOC here: http://roleplayerguild.com/showthrea...-High-Fantasy) )))))
A dim light flooded in through a cracked stained glass. The image of whatever god this stone cathedral stood for had long since been faded and damaged into an unrecognizable outline. Ire would like to think that this cathedral doubled as a court for criminals, as Systanis would want it. Ire stood up from his kneeling position, using a callused hand to push himself up. He took a deep breath and ran his hand through his auburn hair. Ire heard a quiet grinding and scraping as his heavy iron plate armor grinded against itself. His faded crimson cloak glided gently behind him, catching what little wind there was in this stone monolithic structure. Ire made his way towards the entrance, the familiar sound of iron boots clanging on stone floors. He nodded to the sentinel, who quickly handed him his towering greatsword. The Sentinel towered over Ire, and Ire was quite large for a human. He was clearly a goliath, although it was impossible to tell under its iron armor. Its mask was pointed and its eye slits were barely large enough for someone to see through. It had a very large halberd over its shoulder. This was clearly a very well trained soldier. Ire took a few moments to sling his greatsword over his shoulder. He pushed the huge wooden doors open. Strangely enough the door began splintering, and moaned loudly as it opened. Ire entered the street, and was promptly bumped by hurried passerbys. The common sound of peddlers selling their wares and the occasional doomsayer filled the market street. Ire fumbled into his pocket, pulling out a crumbled piece of paper. The only thing on it, was a simple phrase, “Balnsworth’s Tavern.” Ire knew he was to meet a man with a brown fedora on, who would give him the whereabouts of The Righteous’ army. It was quite difficult to even get in contact with them, let alone find them. Rumors had said that the three factions were gearing up for something major, and Ire wanted to be a part of that. It’s unlikely he would be the only one.
"Where is he?" Elaia moaned. She was sitting at the tavern's bar, an empty bowl in front of her. She'd finished her meal some time ago and now had her head resting across her folded arms, leaning on the counter. Her feet dangled off the high stool, her legs not long enough to reach the ground, so she was swinging them absently. "He promised he'd let me join! I've proven I'm capable! Haven't I?" Her eyes turned up to the Human behind the bar, seeking his confirmation. He didn't respond, continuing his cooking with a small smile on his face. "I have! So it's only right that I finally get to join! And he promised! He can't back out on his promise!"
The door opened. Elaia raised her head and spun about on the stool. When it wasn't who she wanted, though, she spun back around and plopped her head down again with a sigh. "You don't think he left me, do you? He wouldn't have forgotten, right? He said he would let me join, I only had to meet him here. And he wouldn't lie to me, right? He's just late, that's all. He had something else to take care of, so he's not here yet. He'll be here soon. Definitely. Just a few more minutes." If he didn't come, she'd be in trouble; Elaia didn't spend much time in cities, so she didn't have any money with her. And the nice gentleman here expected her to pay for the meal she just ate.
"Syrax-ume, where are you!?"
The sun beat down uncharacteristically hard for the beginning of autumn as Setta made her way down the crowded street. Foreign in this land she hid herself beneath the dark cloak that covered her armor and sword, to ensure to get to that tavern unmolested. Women sing as they mend nets of their husbands above the shops of bread and cheese and meat, children play a game of kicking a ball, the armor covered Sentinels patrol finding fault with a street " Performer" and his fast fingered accomplice. This would be the land she fought in to protect her new home, the southern Amoch jungle that very nearly was wiped out by scouting forces of the Purists. Never one to start a fight she had heard tale that her saviour was a general in these "Aelear" forces and set out to bring retribution and recompense to him.
A place to rest and raise Sheol, the Balnsworth tavern proved to just that as she enters the dimly light inn to meet her contact, a person in a brown hat.
Syrax sighed and gave his staff a shake "For the last time no" he said to it pointedly, and with that he continued his stride through the city, his robes caught what little wind there was on such a day, blowing out behind him somewhat, giveing quite a impressive appearance to the allready striking figure, he wasn't tall against the sentinels, nor against a good sized human, but, he was still taller than most. yet it wasn't that which marked him out, His hair was the deepest shade of blood red, like a wound days after battle gone sour with rot, yet once again it wasn't this which marked him out. His eyes glowed with a internal blue light, glittering like motes of flame. and again not what marked him out, what marked him out was simply the way he carried himself, he walked like someone who held the right of mastery over all about him, it oft got him in to trouble, but it also cleared a path faster than most other things could. he sighed the location he was ment to meet his two companions, one was a 'young' girl he'd taken under his wing the other was unknown to him, all he was she was called Setta and he was ment to wear a brown hat.
"oh gods the hat!" he moaned and the staff in his hand shook up and down as if laughing and he it another violent shake, pulling a dark brown trilby from his voluminous robes he perched it on his head and walked in to the tavern. he didn't like hats, at all, but he had to, orders were orders.
he spotted Elaia and strode over to her and making sure she was looking the other way, tapped on her shoulder;
"boo little one"
Elaia jumped in surprise when she felt someone tap her shoulder. "Boo, little one." Elaia turned on the voice to find Syrax standing behind her.
"Syrax-ume!" Elaia leaped from the stool and flew into Syrax's chest, wrapping her arms around his neck in a tight hug. "You're here! I get to join today right? You promised, so I do!" Most of the other patrons in the tavern turned to see what the noise was. A small Elvish girl jumping on an Eladrin mage couldn't have been a frequent occurrence at Balnsworth's Tavern. Suddenly Elaia pulled her head back, remembering something. "Oh yeah," she started, lowering her voice to a whisper so nobody else would hear, "do you have any money? I told him you'd pay when you got here." Elaia cast a glance at the empty bowl on the bar and the man beyond it. Then she turned back around, staring at Syrax with her big, lavender eyes, the small elf still hanging from around the tall Eladrin's neck.
Ire made his way through the bustling market streets. On more than one occasion he stopped a child pickpocket, grabbing them by the hands, retrieving the stolen goods, and breaking a few of their fingers. They’re just lucky he didn’t want to draw his sword in public, or he’d have taken a hand instead. Eventually Ire made it to Balnsworth’s Tavern. Where Ire was from tavern’s were never this large. It was made almost entirely out of a dark hardwood that he didn’t recognize. Ire made his way inside, noting the increased presence of Sentinels. Strangely enough, they did not request to hold his weapons. Ire guessed there were far too many people here to gather all their weapons. The tavern was clearly a local hotspot, as there were nearly a hundred people, of all races. Gnomes, Eladrin, Elves, Humans, Goliaths, Dwarves, Orcs, and various half-races. Ire found crowded places like this to be distasteful. Ire quickly made his way to the bar, avoiding eye contact with just about everyone. He was here to do a job, not socialize. At the bar he ordered a pint of ale, placed a silver piece down on the counter and walked away from the bar without another word. It was somewhat hard to see who was here, and, unfortunately, there were quite a lot of brown hats here. He would need a better vantage point to see who was who. Fortunately, there was a second storey that was probably just a converted catwalk that lined the walls above people’s heads. He would get a better vantage from there. Ire climbed the stairs to the second storey and sat at one of the tables that overlooked the first floor. He casually began scanning the room for a brown fedora, while sipping on his ale.
Sometimes, it was a disadvantage to be the tallest in the general area. Rubbing the back of her head, Jin turned from her search of the sneaky pickpocket who stole her purse. Note to self: Never enter a building walking backwards. It wasn't the money that she cared about. There was a rather cryptic note about a blue, or brown, hat wearing contact in her purse. Her hand came back with a rocky substance, which she idly dropped to the floor. She still didn't know what exactly that substance was, nor had she ever personally cared about it. However, when she saw the child hanging from the Eladrin's neck she stopped for a brief moment, amongst the rather crowded and populated tavern. That was something you didn't see every day. Still, what was she to do now? She had originally entered the tavern to grab a bite to eat and a drink, but the little snake of a pickpocket had buried that idea a few minutes ago. Sighing, and muttering several choice curses about pickpockets, Jin entered the tavern, having to shove her way past several drunks, and sat down at the bar, next to the child who was still hanging from the Eladrin's neck to be specific, searching a last coin that the thief might have missed. Nothing.
Thunk. Her head hit the table and she muttered more curses. "Damn little..." The human behind the counter cleared his throat, and she raised her head only to give a shake of her head, hands held up apologetically. "Sorry. Pickpocket ran off with all my money. Pretty much all I'm here to do is rest before heading back into the city." The man wasn't happy with that, naturally, but left her in peace, going to tend to paying customers. Bored, slightly irritated, and more than willing to get out of the city at this point, Jin decided to amuse herself by making flames dance around her hand in a variety of shapes and speeds. It earned her several looks, some of fear, some of hate, some of awe, and everything in between. The fear was likely the local peasantry. The hate was definitely the Purists. The awe was also probably the local peasantry. "Now what am I supposed to do? Cryptic message about a blue hat lost, Aelear connection also lost....Or was the hat brown?" She wondered aloud, the flames still dancing around her hand. The barkeep was beginning to give her nervous looks, obviously not trusting her to not burn down his establishment.
syrax sighed and hugged Elaia as she almost tackled him.
"fine I'll pay you're to cute to refuse." He grumbles and flicked his hand. The drawstring pouch inside his sleave spat out a couple of silver coins, after setting them on the bar he sat down on Elaia's stool. Sitting the young girl on his knee easily. "Yes you're allowed to join, just stick close to me all right?" shaking his head somewhat he looked beside him to see the goliath girl sit down bemoaning pickpockets with every god nameable. Then she mentioned Aelear. With a gesture from his free hand the flames around her hand erupted with every colour of the rainbow.
"That isn't a safe name to bandy about my dear, but if you are Jin or setta, you might be in luck." He spoke on undertones with another flick of his hand the fire around her hand went out.
"but put the embers away, we don't want undue attention." He smiled from under his hair.
"my Name by the way, is Syrax Bloodbane."
Bunto angrily downed his drink from the odd colored flask he had bought with the small amount of coin he had, then wiped his lips of the residue. It had been three days since he had returned to civilization, and he was feeling terrible. After years living alone, high up in the rocks and snow of the mountains, he was woefully unprepared to return to a "normal" life. He was constantly irritated by the never ending noise of the city, and felt out of place when talking about current events, when he even talked at all. He found that he had almost become mute, as years of not speaking to anyone had quelled his desire to converse and state his mind. He found other people irritating, and had to remind himself to follow the laws, and pay for goods. He was also very nervous when in large groups, and felt out of place. He started to wallow in self pity, as he remembered the days of leading his fellow troops into the rush of combat, running at full speed to smash his fearsome enemies. Now, he couldn't even talk to a street vendor properly, never mind lead an entire platoon.
He was about to take another swig from his drink, and sink into a deeper depression, when a small gnome with a big, bushy red beard and eyes like crystal pools skipped up to him. The gnome whipped out a small flute and whistled a merry little tune, followed by a quick song:
"Ohhh, hello fellow traveler, I see you are beat.
You have probably been up all the long day on your feet!
If good drink and rest is what you desire.
Balnsworth’s Tavern is the place to retire!"
He then skipped off, faster than he had shown up. Buto scratched his head and considered what the gnome had sang. He was starting to feel peckish, ale was always appreciated and he had nothing better to do. He slowly stood up, stretched out the cink in his neck, then lumbered off down the street to Balnsworth's Tavern.
The denizens of the establishment were a tame bunch compared to the desert rats she had been more familiar with, but that goes without saying in a neutral town like this one. The spirits were strong in Aelonsburg, just the way she liked them, and after having three " ginger's blood" Setta didn't know if the flames she saw dancing were magic or make believe. She saw a brown hatted man flick his hands and the giant's flames disappeared followed by a curious phrase, " Jin or Setta, you might be in luck."
Her name rang like thunder through the crowded tavern as she perks up seeing the man as the source of this storm. She stands and feels the warmth of her drinks bringing color to her face and steel to her nerves as she makes her way over to the man. She cautiously saddles up beside him and quietly asks, " are you a friend of Dorothy's? I'm looking for a ticket to the Front Line express," slipping a small sealed envelope to the hand resting on the bar.