Tirian saw the girl cut through the crowd a while off, but decided to stay on the barrel to keep her height advantage.
"Excuse me" She said politely, perhaps slightly shyly "I just wanted to say, that was a fine battle we had. I haven't had so much fun in years! I was just wondering... who are you?"
This Gnome bowed slightly and took off her hat, "You can call me Tirarian. Well fought, it is bitter sweet to lose against such a good opponent."
Tirarian hopped off the barrel, making the landing look deft and allowing the girl to tower over her. "Your father?" She said, gesturing through the crowd, "I would very much like to meet him. But first what is your name?"

"Me? Oh..." Rosa blushed shyly, scraping a boot against the dirt. She wasn't used to talking to people. No-one ever talked to her, just her father. "My name is Rosa le Croix, miss. I'm a demon hunter. Well, an apprentice. But I'm learning."
The girl thought for a moment, studying the dwarf carefully. She had a keen eye, Lucien said. She didn't think so. She just knew when to be quiet and look around.
"Anyway, Lucien said that he wants to invite you to have a drink in the Jolly Hippogriff with him. I think he wants to get to know you better."

“How goes the watch?”
Pucket ‘Pucksy’ Alderberry most of the time had a hearty smile to accompany his plump body and protruding leather apron, usually stained with ale, wine and gods knew what. However, his smile was now turned downwards into a frown. His knee-high leather boots clomped steadily on the surface, as if he was waiting for an opportunity to pounce. As he spoke, a Red Lock stepped out of the darkness of the wine cellar. His red hood was a faint maroon in the filtered moonlight emitting from the single small window.
“Nothing so far, yet, though I’ve seen a soul or two in the shadows skulking about.”
“Do not let anyone through again.” Pucksy’s features twisted into a scowl. “I pay good money for these barrels of ale. And I paid you more for this job than the likes of you get from a burglary spree in a week.”
“It’s been two weeks and I haven’t received it yet.” The Lock had a whiny tinge to his tone, like a child who didn’t get the toy he wanted.
“You’ll get it after the culprit’s caught.” The landlord’s tone was surprisingly menacing, akin to that of a grizzled soldier’s. The Red Lock reeled back for a while, then nodded and stepped back into the darkness once again.

”Hey, ho, away we go
Ta old Jack Ronald’s fishin’ boat
And then he’ll take us to seas untold
For twenty silver and a goat - HEY!”

Pucksy allowed his features to lapse back into his familiar smile as he ascended the steps from the wine cellar. With a quick motion to the barkeep, he had a full flagon at the ready and stepped over to the nearest table. “Cheerio to yer good health, y’all!”

“LONG LIVE PUCKSY ALDERBERRY AN’ HIS ALE!”

“Bloody good ale at that!”
The comforting clink of flagon against flagon relaxed Pucksy’s senses as his body felt the alcohol rushing into his system. “Hahaha! Good evenin’!”

With that, he turned to the newcomers who had stepped into his establishment. He greeted them with his genuine bright smile and gestured to several comfortable tables a distance away from the drunken revelry. “Come one, come all to the Jolly Hippogriff! Pucksy’s my name, and ale’s my game!”
At the same time, across the room, Mrs Alderberry was patiently serving a band of intoxicated burly men. Suddenly, one of them snatched the landlady’s arm. “Come an’ have a good time with me, m’princess.”
His breath was pure ale. 
Suddenly, Mrs Alderberry snatched her hand away from him and gave him a good slap across his features, earning a chorus of tipsy laughter. “No one ain’t goin’ ta mess with Bertha Alderberry with a pickup line like that!”

“Yeah, Don. Ya ain’t gonna get them lovely ladies like that!”
“Ah second the moh-shun!”

“Y’all want a little meetin’ with my fist?” The burly man suddenly stood up and ripped a chair leg off his stool. “Ah challenge yah, ah do.”

Pucksy grimaced as the other end of the room erupted into a drunken brawl, but was comforted as his wife waded her way through the chaos, relatively unharmed. Anyway, at this time of night most people were so drunk that they could barely stand up, let alone hit their comrades. A few patrons were betting on the combatants.

“Ten silver pieces says Don’s be smashin’ Jack!”

“You’re on!”
Pucksy turned to the newcomers and again pointed to the tables in the distance. “There, we have comfy seats and nice wine - for a price, of course. There are some beds for the weary traveler's back if you wish to stay the night - but keep it clean and bring the chamber pots down to the backyard for compost. The entertainment’s good, but do keep a safe distance away. Good evening!”

Rhone shifted on his feet as the bidding began. He'd done this several times; it was nothing new to have a price put on his life. Sometimes that price was depressingly low. When Rhone was young, he was lucky to sell for 10 pieces, and once he had been given away as a mere gift. The bidding began slow and hesitant. He could practically feel the crowd staring at him, judging every inch of him. He could feel eyes wandering over his bruises, wondering what he did to deserve them.

After a few of the bidders dropped out, two remained. From where he stood, Rhone could see an very short female and a tall aristocrat with his daughter. Neither of the two appeared to be the type to want a dirty field slave. The prices they drove were almost ridiculous. Rhone wondered why they kept going up. It almost gave him a bad feeling in his gut. A mere field slave was worth nowhere near what these two parties were willing to pay, so what did they want him for?

The bidding finally maxed out, with the aristocrat and his daughter winning. Rhone briefly looked up from the ground to give his new owner a curious glance. The auctioneer was beaming with joy at the ridiculous price for which he had been sold as he shook the new master's hand and unchained Rhone to hand him over. The shackles remained around his wrists and ankles, in case he tried to run.

Anya popped the blood candy into her mouth, and almost immediately began to feel her hunger be sated. She still wanted more, of course, but this would do until they could get a proper meal. She looked up at her papa when he talked about doing fun things, and she nodded eagerly.

"Yeah! Fun things are fun, and they're even more fun together!"

Anya began bouncing up and down excitedly at the prospect of souvenirs and pretty things. She hoped that she could get some toys for the road, or perhaps a new dress.

"But what sorts of pretty things can we see at night? Can I stay up late to see them? Are they secret adult stuff?"

Shork trudged through the night with a scowl, his face only shadily illuminated by the fading torch in his hand. Not long now at least until he was safe in Estermere - he didn't fear the dark per se, his heritage giving him the ability to see more of it than an ordinary human might, but walking alone in the deepest night still made him wary especially with the current rumours of brigandage going around. It was fine in the depth of the forest, but now that he was on the road he felt himself sorely reminded why the frail merchant hired him as a guide and guard rather than taking his chances alone... not that he could take on even a shoddily organised group of bandits by himself, but looking as ferocious as he did had it's advantages in making the lone highwaymen and the more half-hearted bandits re-consider their targets.

It was another half hour before he finally reached the gate, his torch having gone out by then, though with the light coming from the nightly market held in Estermere he wouldn't need it anymore. As he approached, one of the two guards took a step forward, shouting out in a voice that had just a slight bit of an uncertain tremor in it. "H...halt! Whoever wants... the newer one of the two yelled out, though Shork silenced him with an annoyed growl and his husky rough voice. "Yeah yeah Marcus, I get it. You're a guard now, i'm mighty proud of you, doesn't mean you have to annoy me. I hunt the meat that's on your table, i'll have ya know!" the half-orc said with a grin on his rugged face. The guard visibly relaxed and let out a sigh, stepping back and leaning against the wall once more, an easy smirk playing on his face as well now. "Ooh... just you, Shork. Could've been any orc, half or full. Back from playing nurse for some spoiled noble's kid?" Shork let out a loud laugh. "It's a livin'. Some people walk the lands and provide food and protection. Others stand around a gate endlessly waving a stick around. Suit yourself I say! Ah, but have a good night. The hunter shook hands with the younger of the two guards, the one he'd been talking to. He had managed to convince Marcus that he was a productive member of their city, with the young guard accepting his place in society and Shork giving him the respect he wanted in return - and so they formed a simple sort of friendship. Others, well... he gave the older guard a glance as he walked past the gate into the city, heading for the inn... others he'd spend a lifetime convincing. But this wasn't the moment to worry about that.

He wouldn't let it bother him, the green-skinned hunter decided, at least not for now. He made a conscious effort getting more involved in the community and even forging friendships here and there, and he wouldn't stop just because a few of them were stubborn... besides, he liked this place. Sure, it had more than it's fair share of problems and a fair share of distrustful people too, but when the mayor accepted him, so did many of the inhabitants - more than you could expect of many places on this continent, and something he would never be able to repay the kindly man for, though he swore to himself, renewing his pledge, it wouldn't be for lack of trying. Walking right past the slave auction - that particular part of Estermere he didn't care much for - the high prices that were called out nonetheless caught his interest as he watched the bare-chested tattooed man on the stands for a few moments, eyeing him from top to bottom with wary eyes. "...they're paying HOW much for this guy?" One-hundred and forty-five gold pieces was ridiculous for any slave, and this one, while looking like a fine worker, didn't seem anywhere special enough to justify a price like that. With a sigh, the half-breed shrugged and moved on, though not being able to help himself at feeling a tinge of jealousy and mild indignation that some people had enough money to throw around like that. More than enough money to feed themselves or anyone for that matter, to dine on rare delicacies while wearing silk and diamonds while still having the coin to buy a hundred kids off the street if they so please. It almost made him miss the life on the streets, being able to relieve them of that gold, steal from the rich and give to the Shork... almost, he reminded himself while rubbing his knuckles. But, the half-orc decided, this wasn't the moment to worry about that either, as he swung open the door to the Jolly Hippogriff, stepping in and shouting out to the landlord with a grin on his scarred, furrowed face. "Hey! Oi, Pucksy, ya got any more of that ale? I worked harder than any of those drunken bums tonight, promise you that!"

"Well, I don't know what we can see yet. I'm sure we'll come across something you'll like eventually, though. Even a small town like this should have something." James explained, scratching his chin. He gave a small smile as he saw the girl grow excited.
"I don't think I can let you see any secret adult stuff, though." he continued. "After all, it's secret adult stuff for a reason."

The knight stopped in front of a tavern. "The Jolly Hippogriff. I guess this will have to do. I hope they have real beds." James said, dismounting. He tied Calvin to a rail, and lifted his daughter off the horse. Holding her hand in his, he stepped into the smelly bar, eyeing its customers and drunkards.

Tirarian gave the girl another look over, a demon hunter? An apprentice, but still... She hardly seemed the type to be running after myths. Did they always start so young?
"Le Croix, hmm." She could swear she heard the name before. She'd have to run it past Elric at some point "I would be honoured to share a drink, friend."

The tavern sure filled up quicker than expected, and the slowly-shrinking space coupled with her uncle's stubbornness left Corinne out of breath. It wasn't uncommon for there to be lots of newcomers in the evening, since travel was common in the region and most travellers would check in before it got absurdly late at night. It was as if some strange force drew them all there, or maybe it was just the word-of-mouth and the warm orange glow that leaked from the building's windows, and the sounds of making merry and warm welcomes that came from inside that had any weary traveller's mind - and heart - in the heavy grip of nothing short of captivation.

Pucksy himself was such an amicable man. He'd turned a corner and shown up to the party, never one to miss the occasions. A toast was raised to him, and Sebastian nearly knocked off his niece with how high he swung his arm in salutations to the good tavernkeeper. It made Corinne groan, and back off, if only for a handful of seconds to give Pucksy a little half-frown. Where had he been? She'd asked him to watch her uncle, damn it all!
Pucksy wasn't a bad guy though. A bit of a joker, but definitely a caring man, whose spirits were as high as the shrills the tavern was coming to be filled with. Someone on the opposite side of the room had started a ruckus. A circle began to form. A congregation around two quarrelling men.

The cries that echoed within were in a disjointed chorus of spirited men and the sounds of their ale in hand, and over the noise she head a familiar voice call out as she continued to reason with the man in his state, and coax him into coming with her. He'd get himself hurt in an environment like this. But if there was one thing he'd inherited from his human father, it was a stubbornness, and of course a love for drink. And a very low tolerance, ironically.
"Shork! Is that you? Where are you?! Please...you have to help me! Uncle Seb is at it again, and Cherry grows nervous outside, and-"

Slurring something over at the men who had only just started to fight, with one holding a detached bar-stool-leg in his hands, Sebastian rose sharply from the bar-stool and the surprise of the sudden action made his niece squeal, and did knock her back a little. She'd kept herself from falling, or tripping over a bar-stool, by holding firmly onto the flat surface, and admittedly almost knocking over the barkeep who was just getting a drink to a blonde gentleman that sat sat in the corner. She bit her tongue.
"Sincerest apologies!" she spun around for a handful of seconds and cried over the noise over at the man who sat behind her, closest to the kitchen, for his drink-that-would-have-been-for-naught.
And in that turn is when she noticed a particular half-elf sitting off in that direction, whom seemed interested in Pucksy's call for newcomers. His fair hair and tan skin caught her eyes as a strange combination, though she didn't have time to pay much more attention to it. Newcomers were common.
Surprisingly enough.
That wasn't important. Keeping her uncle from getting himself involved in the fight in some way, shape or form, however, was.
He'd at least take the chance to place his bets, if not join right if given the chance.

Now Lucien was at a loss. He had never bought a slave before. What was he meant to do?
Undeterred, he shook hands with the seller and handed him the gold. It was a fortune, more than most Estermere residents handled in their life. And he spent it on a man.
"How is he went to walk with these shackles on his feet?" The noble asked the auctioneers "Take them off of him."
When they tried to protest that he would run away, he simply snapped "He is a slave, not a fool! He would not try to run away in a crowded market where everyone can see him."
Looking to the thrall, Lucien smiled warmly "Forgive me. I'm new to this. My name is Lucien. I guess I'm your new master" He blanched, shaking his head uncertainly "No, that word doesn't sound right at all. Your employer, maybe? Yes, that sounds better."
The Vurkolak stuck his hand out, meaning for Rhone to shake it "And what should I call you?"

"Oh, good. Father'll be pleased" Rosa smiled, looking to the stage. "Looks like he's just finishing up."
The ginger girl looked at the stage, wondering who was the next one to be sold. It seemed to be a woman of sorts, but... Odd. From this angle, it looked like she had wings.
"Are you planning on buying anyone else?" Like her adoptive parent, Rosa grimaced at the idea of buying a person. "That next one looks interesting."

Just as he was getting tired of waiting, Pucksy finally showed up. The man was of average height, that coupled with him being relatively "big boned" made him look more like a dwarf than a human. But, he turned out to be a great laugh. Trafalgar enjoyed watching him interact with his customers. Speaking of customers, two of them started arguing about something and that little argument became a brawl. A mob of drunk men gathered around the two men that were fighting and cheered for their favorite, some betting on who would be the winner.

Amidst the fight, Trafalgar's eye caught the female elf from before who was trying to drag what seemed to be a relative of hers out of the tavern. The man was dead drunk but still he managed to move faster than her and pushed her towards the counter and onto the barkeep who in his surprise, threw the drinks he was about to serve, including his beer...
Trafalgar stood up, passed by the elf and walked towards the drunk man. The man looked up to him with his drunken look "What you lookin' at?" he said, the smell of wine reeked all over him. Trafalgar raised his hand and quickly brought it down, striking him on the back of his head, rendering him completely unconscious. He then grabbed him by the torso and called for the elf's help "Hey you, this is your relative right? I don't think you will be able to carry him all the way to your house. Let's rent a room and put him there until he wakes up. Come, help me carry him upstairs!" he shouted at her.

Gukb shrugged. If he was going to die, then he figured he may as well die handsome; the lonesome road was becoming increasingly tiring, after all.

"Ah, very well," Gukb sighed, and climbed onto the chair. It was a slight large for him, but he did his best to sit straight. His reflection in the mirror opposite make him gasp. "That what I look like? By Helm's balls!"

The he-bastard had seemed dismissive of the goblin's less than savoury purpose in Estermere. Gukb guessed this sympathy came from somewhere, perhaps the man had lived a similar life to his at some point? Not that it mattered, in any case.

With a grunt, he moved to answer the question - though his eyes never left the reflection of the barber's hands. "Heard me many a tale, has old Gukb. Most of 'em involvin' heroic types," he nodded at the barber in the mirror, "ya kna, men in clunky shining armour goin's 'round and killin' everythin' that ain't got peachy tits or a pretty face."

As Gukb finished speaking, he let himself lean back into the chair. He was ready to move a moment's notice, though he doubted he'd be quick enough to escape an ill stroke of a razor already pressed up against his skin. The shears too, could probably give the back of his narrow neck a fatal wound if the human willed it. Though for some reason, Gukb felt that this was not going to be the case; there was a kindness in that man's eyes, and it reminded him of the preists of Helm who had saved him. The girl too.

"'Ow's 'bout yer? Heard anythin' that might be worth a tip or two?" asked Gukb, though in truth he was not sure if the ten copper pieces were enough to pay for the barber's services, let alone a tip.

"That what I look like? By Helm's balls!" shouted the Goblin. "I'm no miracle worker, but I can do the best I can to help out your appearance." Elric jested. He glanced at Gukb's rather mangy and ill-kept hair. He took out the child-sized barber's apron and glanced at Gukb's hair again, re-confirming this Goblin was in a desperate need of a haircut and a shave.

"Ah yes, the traditional heroic tales, those are always intriguing to hear." He said, glancing at the apron. He placed it on Gukb and tied it around his neck. He walked back to the table as he took out the small pot of water, and dumped a bit of it into a small clay bowl. "Well you do hear many things, and they all depend on how long you plan on staying in Estermere." he said as he dipped both of his hands in the water and began cleaning through the goblin's long black hair. "So, I heard you invoke Helm's name when you saw yourself in that mirror..." He said brushing his fingers through the rest of the Goblin's hair until he had cleaned every inch possible of it.

He returned to the table and picked up his barber shears, and gave them a quick cut open, and shut. He walked back behind Gukb, "Now then, what style would you like your hair in?"

Tirarian headed through the crowd with Rosa, towards Lucien.
"Are you planning on buying anyone else?" Rosa said, glancing back through the crowd. "That next one looks interesting."
Adjusting her hat slightly, she got a good view of the next slave. Funny, she could swear she had wings... Yes, she certainly did. Tirarian was assaulted by images of them flapping around in her lab and knocking over all of her equipment. No, she was not going to end today in Tirarians household
Tirarian kept pace with the girl, who navigated her way through the press extroudinarily well, for someone that tall at least. The Gnome weaved behind a burly man, in front of a disgruntled lady and responded to Rosa's question, "No, truth be told I was hardly in the market for one at all. I got a bit caught up in it all though,"

"You mean... you marked up the price... for fun?!" Rosa spluttered indignantly, cheeks red with fury and embarrassmemt "That's low! Even to me, that's low!"
In a hushed - but just as angry - whisper she continued her rant "Do you know how many pockets I'll have to pick to make that money back? Or how many demons Lucien will need to get rid of? Two! Two whole demons! He might need to leave Estermere to find them!"
Whilst she was walking and ranting, she kept dipping her hand into the richer buyer's pockets, pulling out fat coin purses and wallets. From the Gnomes perspective, it must have looked like she wasn't even putting effort into it, just swiping it and putting it in her corset for safe keeping.
"I might get another one. A servant, I mean. That way they can split the workload between them."

It was now obvious that Rosa was a thief, for a hobby? And she was complaining at her for marking up the price?
"I thought you said you were a demon hunter? At the moment you look more like a," keenly aware of the people in earshot, she changed her tone, "Seeker of wealth. But I have known many thieves, and none dress like you."

"A seeker of wealth? That's a new one." Rosa made a mental note to write that down "I do hunt demons. I just happen to come across things in people's pockets that they should take better care of. If they don't collect it by the end of the day, I presume they don't want it."
"I presume theives want something with more pockets" She commented dryly, gesturing to her barely-over-the-hips flared skirt and shoulderless corset.

"The thieves I know try and keep peoples gaze away from them, not attract them."
Tirarian already had the strong impression that this girl was a thrill seeker, but she wanted her to say it, and wondered if her father knew anything about it, or even encouraged it

"Style?" Gukb sounded amused by the barber's question. "Do my kind have styles?" he asked with a chuckle. "Hmmm, well na' the masta' at arms in the monastery always told me to keep it short, lest one of yer big feeted fellahs grabbed it and tore me 'ead off. Was a nice one, that masta' at arms, always felt 'e 'eld back with tha' whip when I screwed somethin' up. Tha' otha' boys, as in like, your kind, they got it a lot worse than old Gukb here. Me thinkin' the masta' at arms pitied me. Don't blame 'im, nah I don't."

Turning his head left and right, the goblin became increasingly fascinated with his appearance. "Never seen meself b'fore, I'ma handsome one in I?" he said smiling, and then pouted his lips amusingly. "Eh, short it is, get rid 'o it, or leave it close to the skin I guess."

"But no-one would ever assume I would be a thief. Anyway, you're one to talk. You kind of look like a man with that big duster coat and hat. Its practically screaming 'Suspicious character'. The biggest reaction I've ever gotten out of my clothes was some old fella staring at me as I walked past. You must get people staring at you all the time"