On the Trader's Road

[Seravee]

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Mister Cirdoril,” came her soft greeting after the man finally introduced himself. He was the last of the three seated at the table to share his name, yet Emer felt no closer to knowing the men she was sitting next to. Doing her best to avoid appearing too suspicious, she eyed Kaive for a moment longer. Something about his fancy clothes and easy air put her on edge. Was it merely her own longing to be so rich and clean again? Perhaps, in part, it was. But there was something more to this stranger that intrigued her. It intrigued her so much that she was beginning to let down her guard and consider letting him escort her as she traveled.

With this, she swung her gaze to the dwarf. Standing there in his battle attire, Emer realized that if she was afraid of anyone, it aught be him. But the man before her, taking great swigs of his ale and appearing almost jolly in his every action, simply did not frighten her. Emer did not consider Koblo a threat. A voice somewhere in her subconscious warned her that she would certainly come to regret this choice, but she swiftly pushed it away. It was, of course, in a Selkie’s nature to make unwise decisions. She was living proof of this.

It was also in a Selkie’s nature to be concerned about one’s appearance, and for the first time since she left, she felt the first traces of embarrassment. Her hair, normally long and silky, was greasy and knotted. Her arms and legs with smudged with mud, and a bit of equally-disgusting gunk was shoved under her fingernails. She folded her grimy hands in her lap, silently hoping that no one had noticed. Of course, the dirt on her cheeks was a bit more difficult to hide. The woman was scanning the room for the innkeeper when the dwarf fell silent. Feeling his and the elf’s gazes upon her, she turned and responded to the last bit of conversation that she had heard.

“No, of course I do not object.” She offered them both a small smile before echoing the dwarf. “The more the merrier.” Then, she spotted the man on the other side of the bar, emerging from a back room. “If you would both excuse me for just a moment.”

Emer pushed back from the table, collected her suitcase and hurried toward the innkeeper. There was a brief exchange, both of words and coins, before he led Emer into a small room located opposite the front entrance. Inside was sink and a dirty mirror. The woman studied it for a moment, her displeasure clear on her face, but it would have to do for now. Emer quickly went about the awkward and slightly uncomfortable business of washing herself in the sink. Her long hair washed easily enough, but without a cloth of any kind, rubbing down her legs was a bit more difficult. After only ten minutes, she decided that her personal hygiene was as good as it was going to get. She finished off the look by rubbing her skin with an overpowered cream that lay next to the sink (it claimed to be rose-scented, but the true fragrance was certainly up for debate). Then, the Selkie turned to the mirror for a final inspection.

----

“What do you plan to do now?”
“I do not know.”
“You will have to leave.”
“Yes.” Her voice was barely audible.
“Where will you go?”
“I do not know.”
“Well what do you know?” The volume of his voice had increased, though out of anger or frustration, she did not know.
“That I did not do it.”
“Yes, I know that too.”

----

When Emer emerged from the bathroom, her hair was still damp. Without a comb, she had no means of taming it, but she had run her fingers through it well enough to remove the larger kinks. The wet locks clung to her bright red cheeks, and a smile adorned her lips. She was certainly in a better mood after being cleaned up, which was not uncommon of her species. They put great stock in their natural beauty, as it was the one thing that drew suitors to them. Granted, Emer was in no great need of suitors, but looking acceptable for the elf and the dwarf was the least that she could do.

[Hank]

Maphrodite enjoyed watching the woman's facial expressions change as he talked, sensing the fear he instilled in her with his words. As a younger man, this would have excited him -- the power, the control. But he had seen it so many times before that at this point it was merely a faint amusement. He knew that he was taking the lead in this conversation, taking it places the woman didn't want it to go at all and he was about to capitalize on it further when she responded to him, her voice stronger than her eyes had suggested. She wasn't that weak of heart after all.

Her words of defiance almost touched Maphrodite. Not exactly what she said, but her determination in not showing weakness. It was indicative that the priestess was acutely aware of her situation and the nature of the man she was talking to, which earned her Maphrodite's approval. He didn't have time or patience for the unobservant and the naive... which a lot of religious figures tended to be, for one reason or another. That didn't diminish Maphrodite's desire for her in any way, though. If anything, it could only fan the flames, but it certainly did grant her a little bit more protection from physical harm.

Maphrodite decided to humor her, just as she had humored him, and answered her questions. "My name is Maphrodite, my lady the priestess, and I am here to find work. You're quite right about slave trading being a business that hasn't got a foot on the ground here, but that won't be a problem. I am a man of many talents. In fact, if you've heard or overheard anything from the patrons here that indicates they may have some work available... any work, mind you, will do. Even things that you would normally frown upon. Unless you have a job for me, of course," Maphrodite said and grinned. "You look tense. How about a massage? I charge a fair price."

[Foxes]

Kaive knew a cue for a dramatic entry when he saw it, and he saw it in the eyes of a rather pretty young woman across the tavern. She was a priestess, if Kaive knew anything about henna tattoos, and she was wrapped up in conversation with a wild looking man. Kaive wouldn’t bet a copper penny that he was a man of good intent, not with the look the young priestess had given him. Emer returned to the table, looking refreshed, happy, and rather wet. He felt a pang of regret, assuming that he’d made her self-conscious.

“If you’ll excuse me, Emer, I have a damsel to rescue,” he said with a wryly gallant smile. “Mind my cloak a moment, if you will,” he added as he made his way over to the priestess’s table. He walked with the swagger of a swashbuckler, and as he moved he scanned the room. He seemed to look everywhere but his destination, enough to make one curious as to what, exactly, was going on in his head. Such was the nature of curious looking elves, though, and he did look curious.

Walking without his cloak the dark elf was revealed more fully. His clothes, from his sleeveless vest to his black pants to his leather boots, lacked neither elegance nor utility. The swirl of vaguely runic inking across his arms, the glimmering fire of jewels and precious metals, and the gently curved, Kessoscene sword at his side only served to accentuate the misplaced-ness of his persona. He was a fish out of water but Kaive was not a particularly self-conscious person, if that wasn’t obvious enough. If any singular word could be chosen to account for him, it would be eccentric. Foreign, too, would suffice, a strange man of stranger attire in a land where most folk never amounted to more than farmers or traveled to the nearest true city.

He clapped a light, mahogany hand on Maphrodite’s shoulder as he sidled up next to their table, a beaming smile splayed across his lips to showcase his white teeth. Well, not entirely white, but considering his alarmingly generous consumption of tobacco and colored spirits he did fairly well for himself when it came to their coloration.

“I don’t suppose this young lad is giving you any trouble, is he? I know the men of this side of the river, my fair lady, and their bark’s worse than their bite, I do promise,” Kaive interjected jovially. The words were jovial, at any rate. His left hand, however, rested openly on the hilt of his sword, and his eyes were narrow not from the smiling, but rather in response to the way she had looked at him before. The Trader’s Road was long and lonely between the tavern and the nearest town in either direction, and there was much unwanted company to be found upon it.

[Jorick]

Koblo set his empty tankard down with a satisfied smack of his lips as Kaive turned from the table. He watched the elf go, noting his smooth and graceful movements, the exaggerated swagger of his walk only enhancing it. Men who knew how to fight had a certain way of moving, so far as the dwarf had seen, as if they were highly aware of their own body and wasted little energy in movement, placing efficiency and economy on equal priority with getting from one place to another. In a prolonged battle, wasted energy could spell your doom just as easily as anything else: if you're too sluggish to block an incoming blow, you're dead just as surely as if an arrow came out of nowhere and slammed into the back of your head. Men and women who'd been in enough fights tended to know that, whether consciously or not, and so they adapted to moving efficiently whereas the a non-fighter moved about with all sorts of flailing and slouching that burned more energy than they realized. Koblo hadn't needed the confirmation that the Isilidori was a dangerous fellow, but it was nice to get it nonetheless. There was certainly more to be noticed about the fellow than his walk, though.

"Look at how he displays himself and his wealth." Koblo's voice came as a distracted mutter, as if he were talking to himself. Of course, it was pitched loud enough for Emer to hear it as well, but perhaps she wouldn't realize that he was acting rather than truly speaking aloud unintentionally. "Reminds me of that bird, peacock they called it, showing off bright feathers to attract attention. What kind of attention is he trying to attract with the nice clothes and sword in a place like this?" The dwarf fell silent, tapping a finger on the tabletop as he watched Kaive approach a man across the room and put a hand on his shoulder. Friend of some kind? Koblo thought to himself. Ahh, no, hand on the sword, and a woman also at the table. Damsel in distress. Guess he wasn't just making things up.

Blinking owlishly to finish off the pretense of having been lost in thought, Koblo coughed and flashed Emer a wry grin. "Sorry, I do that sometimes." It was a vacuous statement, apologizing for something vague and unclear, but he'd found people were more likely to be receptive of his feigned thoughts spoken aloud if he seemed to apologize for them afterward. "Anyway, I have a.. possibly stupid question. I've a bit of an eye for details, comes with the job," Koblo again purposely left his statement vague, "and I've noticed an odd one about you. I'll freely admit that I'm not the best at telling human faces apart from one another, for which I will unashamedly blame my height and the angle at which I'm forced to view most faces, because everyone's nostrils look pretty much the same, but tables make a fine equalizer. Your eyes." The dwarf shifted in his seat, truly a bit uncomfortable with bringing the subject up due to past experiences of folks getting upset with his questions about certain bits of anatomy that had seemed out of the ordinary to him. Apparently there was such a thing among humans and elves as a 'deformity,' some kind of physical defect that they tended to be very sensitive about. "They seem a bit different than other humans. Bigger. I'm just curious if I'm as bad at remembering faces as I claim, or if you're from somewhere where such eyes are normal, or.. I don't know what else." Where others might hasten to add that there was no insult intended, to compliment Emer's looks and so forth, Koblo simply shrugged a shoulder. "I've a curious mind is all, I hope it doesn't offend. Feel free to tell me to mind my own business if you'd prefer, and I'll not mention it again."

[Giannine]

Maphrodite...Maphrodite...That is quite a name, Aaerin mused to herself. If he's half the devil he appears, I doubt it's his own.

The way he looked at her made the young woman's skin crawl and she shook her head quickly, tossing her hair about as she wholly rejected the idea of this man touching her. There was something in the way he spoke that suggested a massage was far from his intention. Gripping her mug, Aaerin pursed her lips as she tried to think of a way to get away from Maphrodite, but she was saved the trouble when the Isilidori swaggered up. She gave him points for straightforwardness – the idea of touching the falsely innocuous stranger made her quiver internally – though a glimpse at his sword had the dedicate wondering just how much she could trust this elf, too. Using his arrival as a cue, Aaerin stood abruptly and grabbed her bow from beside her, jostling the table and causing some of her ale to slosh over the sides with a grating noise as her chair hit the wall.

"Giving me trouble? Not yet, though his eyes and words nary align. Perhaps I would've done better remaining in the temple," she spoke in a rushed tone, trying to keep her eyes on Maphrodite, the elf's sword, and the room all at once. Her sudden move had garnered the attention of more than a few patrons, which is not at all what she had wanted. With a pang of regret, Aaerin realized she would have to forego her room for the night (though not the coin she had spent on it) – there was no way in Tuer she would stay in the Grey Swan that night, not with that man anywhere nearby. Hand clenching on the weapon she had carved by hand, the young dedicate made a split decision that seemed more than reasonable, given the options.

Oh Luhare, I hope I know what I'm doing.

"Sir, do you travel this evening? I find myself in need of a companion for the time being," and she just couldn't help but shift her focus to Maphrodite as she continued. "As you say, the bark may be worse than the bite, but I am not curious to test such a cliche personally."

[Hank]

The woman's reaction to his ludicrous proposal made Maphrodite chuckle slightly, his facial expression locked in the vicious grin he seemed so predisposed to. He remained quiet as he noticed her looking around the tavern, presumably trying to find an excuse to get away from him. She was with her back to the wall and the way the tables had been set up next to each other meant that if she really wanted to leave, Maphrodite would be able to reach her even if she sprinted away. His muscles tensed in anticipation, like a great feline ready to pounce. If she tried to leave, he would stop her. Gently enough not to attract any attention.

But that became unnecessary when the elf showed up and placed his hand on Maphrodite's shoulder, who sharply turned to look at him. The grin had vanished and been replaced by a stone-faced gaze that belied the rage Maphrodite was fighting against. His mind racing, he was arguing with himself and barely even heard what the elf said, his blood pounding in his ears. Every fiber in his body wanted to get up and kill the elf where he stood for his transgression but the small, unwavering nugget of cunning in his mind was telling him not to do it. After a few seconds, reason won out and Maphrodite took a deep breath, smiling sheepishly. He did reach up and removed the elf's hand from his shoulder, the clench of his fist strong enough to convey his displeasure to the elf. He was sure the Isilidori would take the hint. It was only then that he noticed Aaerin had got up. Ale had sloshed over the edge of the table, almost onto Maphrodite. He looked at the pool of ale on the ground and shrugged, deciding to pretend that he didn't care about the priestess wasting his drink. Playing back in his mind what the elf and the woman had just exchanged, he made up his mind about how to play his cards and laughed softly again.

"Yes, the elf is right, our bark is worse than our bite. I was just messing a little bit with you, priestess. No harm intended! A little scare to remind you to be careful on the road hasn't ever hurt anyone. I'm sure traveling with mister exotic over here will keep you safe. In fact, Isilidori, I noticed you wandering around the tavern asking people questions -- if you don't mind me asking, what was that all about? Do you need information or help? If you have a job offer open, I'm interested to hear what it is."

He kept his tone light and his face soft, reaching for what remained of his drink as he spoke. When he was finished talking, he got up from his chair as well. It wasn't by a huge margin but Maphrodite was significantly taller than the elf and quite positively towering above the priestess, whom he shot an apologetic look, finally noticing the bow she clenched in her hand. Oh, of course, a priestess of the hunt.

[Seravee]

It seemed only seconds after Emer returned to the table that the elf announced his departure. Her smile did not falter, but her large eyes clouded over slightly. It would take an individual who was paying quite a bit of attention to notice that she was disappointed by his leaving as soon as she returned. Though she would never admit it, she had expected to return to compliments, or at the very least, impressed table mates. The thought that Kaive had left her to see to another woman was incredibly off-putting. Even more so was the fact he had asked her to watch his cloak. Once the elf had crossed the tavern, the smile left her lips. She let out a small sigh and crossed her arms tightly across her chest. Part of her wanted to leave, but another part spoke against leaving his cloak unattended.

The selkie glanced toward the dwarf as he began to speak. Of course, Emer had never seen a real peacock before, but she found herself agreeing with the point Koblo was attempting to make. She opened her mouth to voice her agreement, but immediately thought better of it. The way in which Koblo spoke, in a low tone with his gaze elsewhere, suggested that perhaps he was not actually speaking to her. She would look quite silly if she weighed in on a discussion that was not meant for her.

As if on cue, the dwarf appeared to return to reality. Shooting her a hurried grin, he apologized. “It is quite alright,” Emer replied softly, returning that smile. But she found it increasingly difficult to hold that expression as Koblo began to ask his question. It was painfully obvious to her that he was uncomfortable, and her mind quickly began to formulate an explanation. Was he trying to ask her if she was that infamous woman from Wesmooth? She held her breath and waited for the dwarf to finish.

When he finally admitted to being curious about her eyes, Emer exhaled in a small, relieved puff of air. The question was still odd, of course, but it was not one that she was unfamiliar with. And it was not one that pried into her past, something that she was incredibly grateful for.

“I suppose the large eyes simply run in my family,” the young selkie responded, shrugging slightly herself. It was not entirely a lie. “Large, dark eyes. I know that is a little strange for a human, but it is nothing that can be helped.” That, also, was not completely untrue.

[Foxes]

“I can think of no greater pleasure than your companionship on the road, my lady,” Kaive said with due courtesy. He was particularly fond of priests, priestesses, monks, and other devotees of religion. While not a religious man himself, to see others living by the moral codes and doctrines granted by religion gave him some sense of refreshing optimism concerning his fellow man, elf, and dwarf. He might not live by the letter of the law, but he could scarcely imagine the depravity of a world without them. He had seen enough pockets of lawlessness in the deep bowels of city slums to know that such things were a necessity.

The wild looking man who addressed him no sooner than he had answered Aaerin, however, did not strike him as a particularly religious man. Kaive, dab hand at reading people as he was, did not accept Maphrodite’s character at face value. There was more to him, without a doubt, whether good or ill. Kaive did not favor the idea that he was a better man than he appeared. There was a certain air about him, and while certainly subtler than the gems, gold, and silver adorning the Isilidori, it was telling.

All the same, his question was hardly easy to answer. The woman he had just so nobly rescued from what seemed to be a dreadfully tense conversation would undoubtedly be understandably reluctant to share the road with him, but Kaive was searching for a needle in a haystack. Granted, elves stuck out like sore thumbs on this side of the river, so it was a big needle, but “north of Ostlin” did not make for a small haystack. He could use someone with knowledge of the County of Erandor and the city of the same name. He briefly wondered why he hadn't thought to hire someone to help him with his quest sooner.

Well, he had sought out the horse for the pursuit of the two elves, but it wasn't as though the horse had been looking for work by his own accord.

“I’m looking for an Athelidori female and an Isilidori male somewhere north of Ostlin, most definitely on this side of the river. I imagine they’re somewhere in Erandor, but Erandor is a large place and I’m something of a stranger in these lands,” Kaive said. “I could use the help, if you’d be willing to take on the job. Of course, I hope this proposition doesn’t offend you, my fair priestess,” he added, smiling apologetically as he turned his address to Aaerin. “While I assure you that you’re most definitely safe in my company, far be it for me to betray your peace of mind by inviting unwanted company along on the road.”

“And in any event, it won’t be just the three of us,” turning to indicate Emer and Koblo. “Master dwarf, in shining armor, and this freshly bathed young woman will be joining us. The more the merrier, don’t you think?” he asked, posing the question cheek in tongue. Theatrics were among his stronger suits.