Elric shook Gukb's hand, "Yes, I didn't have a surname growing up, much like my siblings and my folks. And since I picked up the profession of a Barber-surgeon, I finally earned my own surname. As for Dwarves, usually they go about chipping stones, not bashing them. Though I did hear about one Dwarf, this tale was told to me by a Fullforge Merchant. There was this man named Rorn, apparently the man mined by bashing his head against the stone. And he didn't mind the blood coming from his scalp, and managed to loosen up some gems. He said it had something to do with 'GOT TA PROOVE MESELF'."

Elric glanced up at the roof, as the Goblin was talking about the structural composition and strength of it. "He was a good craftsman, but..." Elric snapped his fingers, "Ah yes, I must have been keeping him waiting for quite sometime. I hope he secured a couple of seats. The broom is underneath the table. Oh, say if you get thirsty after working, feel free to come over to the Jolly Hippogriff." Elric gave Gukb a quick nod, as he headed to the ladder. He grabbed a belt which was equipped with a small satchel, and quickly wrapped it around his waist and made sure it was attached. He then walked down the ladder, making a bit of creaking with each step down.

Once he was down to the ground level, he wandered up to where he had set a few candles before. They were still burning, but the candle itself was a rather small nub of wax. He moved cupped his hands around his mouth as he shouted up, "Don't be too mischievous!" He said in a jest, "I know you'll do fine!" He opened the door, and exited the shop, before closing the door again, and started to make his way over to the Jolly Hippogriff.

Honari smiled to herself as she walked down the bust streets of Estermere which was always bustling with activity unlike the shrine which was always peaceful and calm. The shrine had it qualities but Estermere had completely different ones which made herself so intrigued with this place. She sighed to herself as she looked at all the shops noticing that she probably came too late to buy anything for the shrine at this time of night and decided to explore what was going to happen tonight.

So off she went down the streets looking for anything interesting to find, which didnt take long actually. As earlier she saw a amazing bidding war for a servant which went up to around 145 gold pieces... I guess their must be someone seriously rich who is in Estermere because no one in town would have that much money on them. The auctioneer must be happy cause she saw a man gaping and tearing up, which must of been him. Beside that, the bidder must been a interesting person indeed; either it was for the money or maybe the smell adventure, she didnt care as she quickly dove into a alley. There she switched into her fox form which was around a foot tall and with a light orange and white coat.

There she took off after the Slave and his Master which wasn't hard because she located the auctioneer already so she knew where the Bidder was going to pay, and quickly went there. Then it wasn't really that hard to track them after that, as she saw the money being transferred and the slave being unshackled. She soon knew the names of both which were Rhone for the slave, and Lucien for the Master. So that was easy, now It was what they were doing to do now, that she wanted to know and she would follow the all night...

'So far, so good" She thought to herself as she was doing a good job so far in following the two as the busy auction crowd easily made her hard to see when she was at the feet of people. But, it did prove a small chance which she might get stepped on... which didn't happen luckily... So she continued to follow them and soon met a girl who was named 'Rosa' and a gnome. The girl 'Rosa' must of been the guy Lucien's daughter because it felt like they have some sort of connection either biological or something professional. But besides the little resemblance between Rosa and Lucien, Honari was able hear all of this, within earshot as she peeked at the group from behind a small group of 2 to 3 barrels.

Anya smiled back at the giant squirrel, who was only a little shorter than she was. She tried not to show her fangs, however, because she really didn't want to scare him or make him hate her. When you find a giant squirrel, it is better to have him as an ally after all. That was probably an old saying, because it was only common sense.

"Hello, mister Squirrel! My name is Anya. May I please pet you? Your fur looks very soft."

The squirrel had apparently had a rough night, but petting would probably make him feel better.

"I..." Corinne lost breath as the half-elf she'd spotted whirled by her, and from the corner of her hearing range she head glasses fall, and shatter, and immediately clutched at her stomach. There was something very unsettling about the sound of breaking glass. It made her teeth chatter. It made her weak. But she couldn't afford to be weak. Her uncle would do something he'd regret! "Uncle Sebas-"
And the words barely left her lips before the half-elf right knocked her uncle out, and she gasped sharply, almost dropping to her knees with how fast she rushed to the collapsed man being held by the half-elf. She gave him a little scowl before trying to shake her uncle awake, and doting and flitting all about him, checking for serious injuries from the blow, but finding none too major but a lump on the back of his head, she sighed in relief.
"It's my uncle. He...he's delicate, he hasn't always been like this. Although efficient, I would appreciate not having him knocked out...goodness."
she pouted at the half-elf, still a little sour about her uncle's state. But what could he do? He was so...not in control. He was so...human.
...and now that she thought of it, so was his assailant. Maybe they could bond just about as soon as the man was conscious again, remembered the evening's events and went stark raving mad at the youth.
"Yes, I think Pucksy might have spare quarters, or even somewhere small, just to let uncle Seb heal up and get better. Oh, Sebastian..." she whined, taking a hold of the man as best as she could and helping the half-elf drag him upstairs.
When they'd get there, she'd intend on laying him down and letting him rest for a while, though also making sure to treat his unconscious body to a couple of drops from one of her small vitality potions. He'd need the strength, after all.
And by the time they'd make it down, even more people would have filled the inn, including two people very interested in a strangely familiar seeming talking squirrel.
Times like that, she'd just want to find Shork and hide in his armour and lift her spirits by insulting him some.
...who was lost in the crowd. Somehow.
She'd just have to get to know this half-elf, then. How...interesting.
"I...forgot to thank you. My name is Corinne. That was my uncle, Sebastian. He cannot hold down his liquor however, and it is quite unsettling. He...he is like you. You're a half-elf too, are you not?" she spoke softly, taking in the man really for the first time since she'd seen him.
Trafalgar was quite the interesting fellow indeed.

Elric walked through the Market Square, heading over towards the Jolly Hippogriff with a relaxed stride. As he passed by the various shops and individuals, he gave a friendly wave and greeting to them.
"Hello there Gregory, how did the fishing go today?"
Gregory was rather short individual, well for a human male, standing at 5', and dressed in rather tattered and worn clothes. As Elric walked by, Gregory beamed a smile, which showed a few missing teeth, which he got from a few scuffles out in the woods. 'Ah! 'Ello Mistah Ba-bah, tha fishan hol' wus full o' fishies. Ca'ght muhself a few gud'uns."
Elric beamed a grin at him, "We need to go fishing again, good to hear the water hole is still teeming with fish."
Gregory chuckled, ' Heh, 'at we do, 'at we do."

He noticed that there were still a few people who were gathered around the center, must have been related to that Slave Auction that Peters helped set up. He continued walking towards the Jolly Hippogriff, as he gave a friendly wave to a burly man who was standing next to a cart that was overflowing with apples. "Frederick! How goes the night time sales?"
Frederick's unibrow raised up, as he gave a quick nod to Elric, "Ah, Elric! They've been selling, not nearly as much as I'd hope."

"Well it definitely isn't your product. Buuut..." Elric stuck out his tongue, as he gave a mischievous grin, "Perhaps it is the unibrow, I could give it a quick shave... And then watch as people line up from all around for your product!"
Frederick chortled, as a few goblets of spit flew out, and landed on the ground. 'You know how much I enjoy my brow. Heh, nice try though.' Elric smiled, "Ah, well..." He snapped his left fingers, "Oh well, there is always next time. If you are still out here, when I come from the Jolly Hippogriff, I'll buy an apple from ya."

"Yes... indeed." Lucien was a little bit annoyed at the gnome's terse referral to Rhone as 'the spoils'. One look at Rosa's face told him she thought something similiar.
"You must be my mystery challenger, Miss..."
"Tirarian" Rosa offered
"Tirarian. I'll have to remember that. It is an honor to meet you."
Lucien shook the gnome's hand, sporting a 'cat that got the cream' smile. She was a peculiar sight. She was laden with satchels and bags that made a curious clink when they moved, and her hat was akin to that of an old vampire hunter he had met once. Despite clearly owning a fair amount of coin, she didn't have the gait of a merchant, and she certainly wasn't of noble blood. He decided not to question her past.
"Forgive me. Where are my manners? Rosa, Tirarian, this is Rhone. Rhone, this is Rosa my... daughter, you could say. Tirarian was the other one who wanted to buy you."
The ginger girl curtsied "It's an honour, Rhone."
She noticed, up close, how subserviant he looked. He was in the company of his betters and he knew it. He was the least valuable person here, or so he thought. Rosa smiled reassuringly at him, trying to make him feel more at ease. It probably wasn't working, but it was worth a shot.
Lucien opened his mouth to speak again, but the auctioneer cleared his throat, reminding him of where they were.
"I say we continue this conversation elsewhere. Maybe we should... Astasroth guard me!"
He had trailed off when he noticed the next slave for sale. Suddenly he realised the true nature of these auctions, and was sickened to the core.
"Rosa" he began, voice trembling "Do you have money on you?"
"Yes..."
"Please take Rhone and Tararian to the Hippogriff."
"Okay. Do you want anything, or should I wait for you to show up?"
"A dram of Highlander Whiskey. The real stuff, I don't care which one."
"Alright." Rosa looked at the other two "I guess we should go."

While new to the town of Estermere, Hart was no stranger to the hustle and bustle of a crowded, drunken tavern. Not missing a beat as a fight broke out in the background, Hart nestled into his seat at the bar as several others entered the premise - including the weasel he had just ran away from. The weasel had an injured arm, no doubt from the people that had stepped up to defend Hart. Hart was in the middle of deciding whether or not he should make his escape now when a elven female bumped into the barkeep, almost spilling drink all over Hart. She hurriedly apologized and Hart quickly waved it off, not wishing to draw any attention to himself.

Hart frowned, too many people were in the bar now, and he couldn't leave through the front without the weasel seeing him. His eyes quickly scanned the crowd, seeing little he could use. His eyes flickered to the stairs just off to his left, the elf who had almost spilled alcohol on him was now helping an older man up the stairs, with the help of a half-elf. After living with a half elf for most of his life, Hart was able to tell the breeds of most elves. The older elf seemed to be the other elf's uncle, and they were looking for a place to put him upstairs. Hart shifted back in his seat. Upstairs was generally quiet and empty, and inn rooms had windows for him to escape if things got really bad. Hart turned to the man sitting next to him and smiled broadly.

"You sirrah, look you've had a tough day." the man merely looked at him and nodded. Hart flashed a coin and slid it over to the man, "Why don't you have a drink, on me?" The man's eyes lit up, and accepted the coin eagerly, heartily reaching out as Hart offered his hand to shake. With his off hand, he clapped the man heartily on the back, as though they were old friends and walked away from the bar. Grinning to himself, Hart quickly examined the key he had swiped and slid it into his sleeve.

Several steps later, he was by the elf, half elf, and drunken elf. Sliding past them as he walked up the stairs, he turned around, he pulled out the key by the keyring and offered it to the elf. "You can use my room," he said plainly gesturing towards the key.

"Fine..." Leaf lowered his head with a sigh. Letting the girl pet him wouldn't take long and it wouldn't be good to make a bad impression on a child such as her. He wouldn't want her to start disliking squirrels when she grows up because Leaf was too much of a hardhead to let her reach over and scratch him behind the ears. As the three stood close to the doorway, Leaf noticed several people come and go. The tavern got more and more busy with each passing minute, did no one in that town sleep? From what he could tell, some kid was being chased as well. Never a dull moment, was there? It wasn't what the squirrel was used to, that was for sure. Leaf was starting to miss his tower more and more but going back there wasn't an option. Perhaps things would get better eventually, when he'd get used to the surrounding.

Trafalgar watched as the female elf hurried over to him and her relative, seemingly surprised by his actions, “It was the only way for him to quiet down…” Trafalgar wanted to say but didn't as he saw the elf was pretty worried about him, checking him for any serious injuries. Once she saw that he was just unconscious she relaxed a bit; “You should take care of your uncle better if he’s so delicate and what else would you do if you were in my place? You saw how drunk he was…” he said with a hint of annoyance, silently lamenting his would-to-be drink.

She then helped Trafalgar carry her uncle upstairs where they could lay him on a bed and she could take care of him. On the way upstairs they were met by a boy who offered to let them use his room. Trafalgar scanned the boy, he had blond hair and was quite short for a human. Trafalgar questioned his age but decided to not delve into details; “Thanks, we are going to take you up on that offer. He is quite heavy actually” he said.

They followed the boy down the hall and into his room and laid her uncle down on the bed where she treated him with what seemed to be a potion. When she finished, she came over and introduced herself; “Nice to meet you Corinne, I’m Trafalgar and yeah I kind of noticed right of the bat that he was a half-elf, me being one myself” he said, scratching his head as he tried to hide his embarrassment. That was the first time he took a full look at her and man she was a beauty. Her reddish-brown hair along with her penetrating eyes and her fair skin color formed a simple but yet captivating combination. Trafalgar shifted his position, “Let’s leave your uncle to rest a little. He was so drunk I doubt he will wake up anytime soon and since I planned on spending the night here anyway, I might as well have an eye on him. But for now, why don’t we go downstairs and share a drink?” he suggested and turned towards the blond boy, “Thanks for letting us use your room. Do you mind if we leave him here as is until he wakes up?” he asked him.

The slave-master chuckled to himself, rolling the extraordinary amount of gold in the coinpouch around his fingertips greedily. Might as well keep going whilst the going's good, right? The next one is certain to knock their socks off, or at the very least surprise them. "Alright number 12, yer up," grunted the man, sending a chubby palm into the small of the woman's back and causing her to stumble in her chains to the lit podium in the centre of the crowd.

"Ladies and gentlemen! This one's just as good as the last one, I assure ya." bellowed the slave-master, spreading his arms out for dramatic effect. The woman just stood there dumbly, staring out across the crowd without focusing on anyone in particular. She was quite tall and incredibly skinny, wearing naught but a stinking burlap stack covered in mud and congealed blood, along with what is hopefully mud. "Don't mind the appearance, people, she smartens up real nice when you need her to."

"We got this one from Quirek, fully trained and everything. We think she's from Sudal, but we can't be sure; still, guys, just at that figure! Cheekbones so sharp you could cut yourself, a natural at entertainment, not too shabby on the housework and fully trained, too!" gloated the slave-master smugly, making rings around the woman, lifting her thin arms, prodding at her face as if she was a slab of meat. The woman herself tilted her head back to the sky blankly. She seemed to be completely unaffected by the man's words, emotionless, still and silent.

The slave-master frowned a little - a few people were walking away. You get that, sometimes; obedient slaves aren't in the personal tastes of some who preferred to have a legitimate reason to hit people. "Infertile, as well!" he called out, trying to hide the desperation in his tone of voice. More people started to leave, and this angered the slave-master. They wanted something new? Right. Well, they'll get something new...

With a flourish, the slave-master heaved the thick iron chains off the woman's back.

Almost instantly, the woman inhaled and shut her eyes as two massive, thick wings spread out from behind her back. The feathers were all sorts of mottled, striped patterns in neutral ochre colours, but they were streaked with blood and some feathers were moulting. Clearly, the woman's wings have been rubbed raw by those thick, inhibiting chains. Whilst she tried to beat her wings and soar into the air, the slave-master stomped down on the chain between her ankle shackles, causing her to buffet the crowd with powerful gusts of wind.

"But of recovery required," hollered the slave-master over the gusts of wind; the woman didn't seem to notice that she wasn't airborne but simple revelled in the fact she could , enjoying what precious moments of free movement she could to the "ooooh"s and "aaaah"s of the crowd. "Flies up to a quarter of an hour with a passenger, if you can trust the woman to keep a hold of you. I wouldn't suggest doing that, it's how we got her in the first place!" joked the slave master, running podgy fingers through his comb over to keep it still.

"SO! Let's start the bidding, shall we?!" he called, throwing the heavy chains over the woman's back. She seemed to withdraw into herself the moment those chains hit the raw and bloody patches of skin on her wings, as she folded her wings in painfully and stared at the crowd blankly again.

Despite this newly displayed talent, the crowd seemed hesitant to put any bids forth. Perhaps they were still in shock, or perhaps they didn't see a need to have a winged servant.

But Lucien didn't want to buy her for her wings, or her infertility, or even her beauty. Women and children were not supposed to be slaves, no matter what the circumstances. If no-one bid on her, she'd go back to her master, who would doubtlessly be furious at the lack of a sale.

He was not going to let that happen

"One gold piece for the winged girl" he called, catching the slave-for-sale's eye. It was unlikely that anyone would let her go for less than thirty pieces, and that was being stingy. She'd likely be worth something in the seventies to these freaks. But if he started small, it might kick the others into action. They'd start placing bets quickly, not wanting to lose out on such a unique prize.

And Lucien guessed correctly - soon, the whole room was full of men yelling out numbers. "10! 15! 20! 25! 30!" echoed through the night market. The slave-master grinned; soon these small fry will drop out out and leave a two-man bidding war, for what person doesn't want something exotic to display proudly to their friends? However, in terms of the winged woman, she didn't seem to notice the bidding around her because she was too busy staring at Lucien. Right at him, un-blinking, even when half-blinded by the lit podium against the dark crowd. The corners of her mouth twitched upwards just a little.

"Seventy gold pieces for that harpy witch!" roared a powerful voice. The source of it was a scarred brute of a man, flanked by two scantily dressed, chained women kneeling at his feet. Clearly, he was one of those 'noblemen' who blew off their inheritance on trinkets and, it seems, slaves - and the thought of having a winged woman to toy with clearly amused him. The slave's face fell from the tiny smirk back into the blank, withdrawn look that it seemed to hold as her wings sunk down. She seemed to be giving in already to the weight of the chains, and perhaps to the new life under the rule of that greasy woman-hoarder too."Any more bets after seventy?" called the slave-master, peering searchingly around the crowd.

The woman-hoarder grinned, puffing his chest out as he held up his entire coinpouch proudly in the air, flaunting the fact he had the money to buy her at seventy. Meanwhile, the winged woman stared at the floor, at her feet, in quiet despair.

In a weird way, Lucien was quite proud himself he'd guessed the price right. Beginner's luck, he thought, or maybe he just had a natural gift at auctioning

Either way, he wasn't about to let this beast of a man add to his harem. Some people don't deserve to have so much money, he thought as the woman-hoarder flaunted his cash and women.

"I thought people like him only existed in stories. Damn pervert." Lucien said, perhaps a little too loudly, before addressing the auctioneer "I'll give you eighty gold to keep the harpy out of that degenerate's hands!"

There was something strange about the winged girl that wasn't just her wings. She had looked at Lucien... If the roles were reversed and it was him standing up there with his life up for sale, he would not be smiling at anyone or anything. Either she was some kind of masochist - unlikely, since her face immediately fell when Porkpie made his bid - or she saw something in Lucien that wasn't present in the other slavers.

The woman-hoarder faultered. "DEGENERATE?!" he roared, shoving past one of his female friends and trying to get through the crowd to reach Lucien. Unfortunately, the slave-master was faster; standing with his back to the burly man, he yelled out "Sold to our kind friend here!" whilst dragging the winged woman through the crowd. Unlike the woman-hoarder, the crowd parted to let through the half-harpy in awe, some of the less socially acceptable or drunk ones reaching out to brush at her wings or run their hands through her greasy hair, sniggering to each other as they plucked a feather from her wing, or tried to trip her up. Either way, the slave-master wasn't stopping, even if that did mean dragging her across the floor - he seemed hasty to finish business now that a fight was brewing.

"Yer gonna need this," muttered the slave-master, handing Lucien a thick chain with some sort of clasp that locks in place on the end, along with a key to unlock and lock the clasp. It had a handle on the other end made out of fine silk wrapped around leather. "To stop her from flying away, because - trust me on this one - she'll do it the moment she gets a chance. I'm sure any of yer fancy dog-leashes work fine if you want to show her off, but don't leave her loose, not even at night." Admittedly, the slave-master seemed to be speaking some inkling of truth, because despite the fact the woman seemed so broken and withdrawn there was a predatory gleam in her eyes, a distinct lack of trust.

"She'll eat just about anything you give 'er, but avoid givin' her any grains. No bread, potatoes, cereal, nothin' - veggies and meat will do fine. Or jus' give her table scraps, she'll pick her way around it." grumbled the slave-trader - a few men were smart enough to try and stop a conflict that could alert the guards by blocking woman-hoarder from getting over to the winged woman and Lucien. "Can't say about the wings but she isn't able to fly jus' yet, more of a big jump. Doesn't stop her from tryin'. She's very obedient but I don't think she gets the fact she ain't allowed to just leave her master when she wants. Keep her chained to somethin' when she's working, or lock the house and windows, she's terrible at gettin' through locks."

After accepting the gold and double-checking that it was all there, the slave-master disappeared back through the crowd, leaving the winged woman alone with Lucien, sprawled on the floor. She stared up at him uncertainly, before heaving herself to her knees and pressing her face as low as possible, in a kneeling bow of respect. In this position, Lucien would get a proper view of her wings - the chains were biting at her flesh and there were infected wounds that certainly were -not- from wear-and-tear all over the sinewy muscles. Some of the feathers were caked in mud and gunge, and she stank to high heaven, coupled with the incredibly long mass of hair. She remains like that for a few minutes before sitting down on the floor extending out her scaly, taloned legs - again, the talons were split, cracked and in need of a good trim - but the action was clear. She was waiting for him to attach the chain to the shackles on her ankles, obediently.

"Thanks, I guess..." Lucien muttered uncertainly, but the seller had already started walking away. Looking down at his new servant, he realised that this one was going to be much harder to control than the last one - she didn't trust him, and she wasn't totally subserviant. She was doing what she had been told to do, but in all likelyhood she was waiting for the opertunity to escape

"Now, now. Enough of that." Lucien admonished the Harpy "I don't condone chains in my household" With that, he leaned over and began to undo the restrictive metal binds. She was in a bad way, blood and bruises everywhere. Several of the cuts, especially where the old chains were, had become infected and were doubtlessly extremely painful. The worst part was the smell, though. It was like dead flesh mixed with urine that had been left in the sun for a couple of days.

"My name is Lucien le Croix, my dear" Lucien offered a hand to the harpy, to lift her back on her feet "You can just call me Lucien. I guess I'm the one in charge of you now."

It was time to go. Rosa and the others would be waiting for them, and he didn't want to chance his luck against Porkpie.

"We should get going. I'm done here, and I'm sure you don't want to spend any more time here than you have to. If you'd be so kind as to follow me..."

Elric found himself stopped, as he continued heading over towards the bar, as he found another individual to have a chat with. It was Charlotte, a girl who helped tend to a pottery shop, and unfortunately for Elric, was married to David of the Astronomers Guild. "Ah Charlotte, hello!" Charlotte diverted her attention from the Square Auction, to glance back at Elric. "Ah,Elric hello."

There was a brief pause, as Elric moved a bit forward, so he wouldn't be in the way of the other individuals traversing at this time of night. "So, finding amusement in the auction?" She watched for a moment before glancing back, "Oh just until David comes back from his star-gazing, and research." She smiled, "Oh you have to see him watch those stars... he is so dedicated in his task."

Elric gave a nod, "Yes, David is a good man." There was another lull.

Tirarian watched Rhone make his way down the street with Rosa and her, despite the odd glances. You could understand them, the group must have made an odd sight. A scantily clad girl of 16, 17? A mostly naked foreigner and a Gnome.
He moved with an odd sway, and surprisingly easily despite the lack of shoes. And the mark on his chest? What could it mean. She tapped him on the lower arm for his attention, and said, "I'm guessing you have quite a story, you'll have to tell me how you got here some time."

Darryn glanced around the Tavern, wondering if any of the customers would try and attack him, but to his relief none did. He did however get several weird looks from some of the people, which he expected thanks to his race's reputation. No matter, he had to tend to his injured arm and decided that he needed a drink. He took a seat in front of the bartender and asked for a pint of mead. While he waited for his drink, Darryn took some bandages out of his supplies and wrapped up his wound after cleaning it. It stung very badly but he was tough and wouldn't allow it to slow him down.

After he was given his drink, he quickly gulped down the beverage and then asked for another. He didn't worry about the cost, he had enough gold from his previous exploits to cover many drinks for a large party of people. The mead was good, but not as good as the ones made by his people and drinking it brought back memories of his clan and family. They were the good ones, he always seemed to get them when he drink the alcohol. When he was on his third pint, Darryn looked around at the other occupants of the tavern.

His eyes spotted a squirrel like creature being petted by a girl who seemed different than your average human, she had red eyes and very pale skin, Darryn tried to place her species, but he couldn't exactly remember, it started with a V. Estermere sure did attract strange beings to his walls, and Darryn wondered if the people he had run away from had given up their chase.

Anya's eyes lit up as Leaf acquiesced to his petting. Anya was a good petter, so she knew that it would make him feel better. She reached out her hand and stroked Leaf on the head, occasionally getting behind his ears to scratch. While Anya's hand was soft and gentle, it was also remarkably cold. Dead cold, as was the purview of Vampires.

"You're cute," said Anya, "What's your name, mister Squirrel?"

Anya noticed another, even gianter animal enter the bar too. This one was a weasel, probably the biggest weasel in the world. She wondered what made the animals around here grow so big. And talk.

Rhone walked silently beside the two females, his head kept down and his pace slightly behind theirs. He was just barely trailing after them, like the servant he was raised to be. He couldn't remember much of freedom, from when he was a boy, so he didn't try very hard to obtain it. Rhone had gotten used to doing other people's bidding without complaint, despite his own thoughts.

His feet were like leather on the bottom. The gravel on the road hardly bothered him at all. Rhone walked with a smooth but strong stride; he was masculine, but had a certain grace about him. His cloth blow gently in the wind, reminding him that he was barely dressed and that this wasn't his desert homelands. This country was rather chilly compared to where he had been born. But Rhone was too stoic to shiver and wrap his arms around himself.

He felt the gnome fall back to his side and poke him in the arm. She commented on his life story, what little he had.
"There's not much to tell," He said, his voice soft. Rhone left it at that. His eyes fell to the mark on his chest, the very same that the gnome had been eyeing. It was the mark of his old master; all of the slaves at the plantation had one. Soon, it would have to be marked out. Rhone only assumed that Lucien would brand him with his own crest. He didn't particularly look forward to that.

"I tried to take care of him." Corinne sighed, her ears even drooping a little as a distant tone crept into her voice, defining the matter as one that wasn't just plaguing her on surface-level. "He can be delicate, but at the same time, he's...well, he's a little overpowering, unfortunately, haha." she chuckled nervously at the hinted tone in the half-elf's voice. Yup, it was her fault he was drink-less. She'd intend on making it up to him as soon as her uncle was settled in.
Conveniently so, they found a kind blonde youth on the stairs who offered his room for them to use, whom she thanked with a nod and a purr in her voice. "Yes, that would really be wonderful. Thank you very much, sir."
The same blonde youth who, again, she was responsible for for being drink-less at that very point in time. Though she actually apologised to him. Though it wasn't too bad that he was drink-less, people were generally a lot more easy to reason with when not drunk to all hell.
She took the key in her hands and hurried up as best as she could, the weight of her uncle really taking its toll like the half-elf had said. He wasn't fat, actually very far from, but a muscular man nonetheless, and muscle weighed in more than fat did. Any day.
Though sometimes she'd trade the muscle for fat; it'd make her life easier by a slight margin if he wasn't as overpowering when she tried to suppress him in drunken fits.

Soon enough, he was settled in bed, tucked in, made as comfortable as Corinne had the chance to make him, before she exited the room and ran a hand through the mess of her hair, pushing her bangs back but having them fall the exact same way again, and giving the man who'd helped her a grateful smile. "Trafalgar? What an interesting name. I cannot say I've heard it before. Alas, half-elves...they're the most peculiar thing, haha. I'd ask how it feels to be one. The thought leaves me quite curious. Perhaps I could understand Sebastian a little better, then. Regardless, it's very nice to meet you too." she took in his features. It wasn't the most immediately obvious thing that he was a half-elf. From a distance, or to anyone who had never seen a half-elf before compared to a full-blooded elf, he'd fit in the elf category just fine. A little more elven than human, she'd guessed, with the tips of his ears just beginning to point. The most interesting thing she'd come to notice was his hair. It was a solid bleached-white colour, and though she'd understand it if his skin was paler, he sported a rugged tan. Showed his outdoor life more than that of a reclusive mage. She'd have to ask about it sometime. Definitely, sometime.

"I would appreciate you keeping an eye on him, very much. It's usually a give or take really, sometimes he's too drunk to come home and I have to beg Mrs Alderberry to make sure he's alright through the night, and sometimes we manage to get him there. He's a much better person during the day, trust me. Very loving man. Oh, have you met Pucksy, by the way? Good man, he is, the owner of this tavern, too."
His offer for a drink was one too good to pass up. Especially since she owed him for...an earlier accident, haha.
On the way down, they encountered the blonde on the stairs again, and Corinne leaned against the railing as the half-elf spoke with him.
It was nice to view the tavern from where she was, high above the chaotic ground floor but still able to see every last inch of it, and if anyone looked up, they'd see her looking right back down at them through glassy blue eyes, and razor-slashed dark hair. And a smile on coral lips.
The crowds that gathered were all interesting individuals of so many different stories, and backgrounds. There were familiar faces, and not-so-familiar faces, and faces-she-hardly-even-recognised-or-knew in the mess.
But it was quaint. As it always was. And the tavern spoke of promise.
Promise of new beginnings. Promise of tying up loose ends.
Promise of reunion.
Promise of ale, and promise of adventure.

"No?" asked Tirarian, doubtful this slave was telling the whole truth. "What was your last master like?" She noted his distaste at the word, or maybe at the memory
Tirarian sniffed, smelling salty air. There was no doubt a storm was coming soon. She would rather much prefer to be indoors at the time it hits rather than outside, by then she wouldn't get to meet this Lucien. She sighed, she hated storms ever since she was a babe

Elric stood for a few more moments in the lull of conversation. He gave a wave to Charlotte, "Have a good rest of the night, and give David my regards." Elric continued his stride, as he walked into the Jolly Hippogriff. It was packed as usual, and had a wide variety of individuals there, some drinking, others telling tall tales, and engaging in various humorous jests. However, Elric needed to find...

That is when he saw a hand waving in a frantic motion, carrying a mug of something, "ELRIC! Over here!" shouted out the familiar voice. Elric strolled over towards a rather packed section of the tavern, near the front, where Samuel was sitting in on a stool, at a small table, with a variety of other gentlemen sitting down. Elric took the stool across from Samuel.

"SO what took you so long Barber? Did ya get another customer?" He said, as he drank from his mug, as some of the ale dribbled onto his chain-mail. Elric nodded, "Yes, sorry for the wait Samuel." Samuel waved his hand, as he slammed his mug onto the table. He reached for his belt, as he pulled out a three pieces of silver and put them on the table. Elric slid them over towards him, and placed them into the small pocket, "Thank you Samuel." Elric paused, "Say Samuel, did you talk to the chains of..." He was immediately interrupted as Samuel slammed both of his hands on the table, and gave a quick nod to the barber. "OH yes, I need to ask them! Thanks for reminding me!"

Samuel quickly ran out of the bar, knowing that he needed to confirm the ability to get some time off. Elric paused for a moment, getting up. He glanced around, checking to see how busy the various servers were. Which was to say, yes, they were still busy. Hm, well a sight perked Elric's attention. Yet, it was rather odd, usually he was here as well. Well I guess I should ask., Elric made his way up the stairs, where he had saw Corinne earlier.

"Hello Corinne, lovely night isn't it?"

Gukb stood back and admired his work. The floor was hair free! A fine feat of house keeping, indeed. He carefully put the broom back, and then turned to look at the gaping hole in the roof. Staring into the starry night beyond, he chuckled to himself as he mused over Elric's invitation.

"Askin' old Gukby to go bingin' wit 'im? Askin' old Gukby to get speared three feet from tha' door, more like!" he sneered. "Got's me better things to be doin', than convincin' tha' drunk locals I ain't here to murder their sheep."

The goblin walked over to the hole, and putting both hands onto the edges, he heaved himself out onto the roof. A gentle breeze caught him then, and for the first time in years, his scalp felt it too. Releasing a long pleasurable sigh, he scratched his itchy head; more cuttings dislodged themselves from their entangled prison. His foot kicked something hard and wooden.

"Oh," he said softly. "Widowmaker, me love, hope yer didn't miss me. A King needs his Queen."

Picking the weapon up, he slung it over his shoulder and turned to repair his vandalism; though a sudden spur of distant merry making drew him back. The town was alive, even in the night-time hours, and the goblin marvelled at the sprawling blanket of shadowy roofs and pulsing lights before him. Estermere in the dark may have passed as pretty, he figured, but the daytime version was a much more ugly affair. That was the thing with the colour black, it had a tendency to warp perception.

Gukb soon found himself bored with looking out over a deception, a mere trick of the light indeed, and turned to face the three foot wooden panel he'd dislodged from the roof earlier.

"My Kingdom will be a fairer place, oh yes it will," he murmured, kneeling down to inspect the panel. "No filthies, or povertah-ty, poverty. No cryin' babes. No weepin' womenfolk." He paused his ramblings, so that his lungs could lend their assistance to his arms.

With a grunt, he picked up the panel, and walked it to the hole. His legs were unsteady, for though the load was not too much for his arms, it was a top heavy affair that lashed at his balance. A tile creaked beneath his shoes, and for a second he felt himself going over.

"Be typical that, King Gukb the Humble fallin' to his doom performin' a simple errand," he said with a crack of laughter. "Wonder what they'd do wit me corpse."

He knew what the townsfolk would do, Elric's kindness be damned.

The panel slammed against the weakened framework, and Gukb released a sigh. It was in place, but it wasn't secure. Now it was time for hammer work. The goblin didn't have such a tool, but Red Rust was a versatile ally. Using the discoloured pommel, he battered away along the edges of the panel; knocking rusted and bent metal into damp and lice-ridden wood.

"Ye," he wheezed, "be keepin' out tha' rain this."

And then he realised he was standing on the roof with no way back into the building. Profanity followed like a raging river of fiery justice directed towards the Gods of Sod. The trellis had carried him up, but he'd broken the last six rungs; getting down was going to be a comical affair.

This slave was starting to bug Rosa. Here Tararian was, trying to make friendly conversation and he was being all poncy about it. Who was the noble here?

"You're starting to annoy me, Rhone. As you master's daughter, I request, no demand that you lighten up" Rosa commanded playfully "If you don't start smiling and start interacting like a normal person, I'll clamp you in irons" Rosa grinned, punching the slave gently on the shoulder.