Well, that's an odd thing if there ever was such. The confused look on Ayla's face only grew as she regarded the other woman. She decided, though, it was probably another odd, foreign mannerism. Those noble fops from Belgard that kissed each other on the cheek had struck her as odd at first, too, but that was just a customary greeting for those bastards.

The memory of Belgard struck a cord with Ayla, though. She forgot about the conversation momentarily - thankfully, only momentarily - and started reaching for one of the axes on her bunk. Within three seconds, however, she snapped back to reality, eyes wide, and looked back over at the weird, dark-skinned woman. She vaguely understood what she was saying at first, then absorbed the rest just fine.

"Never been to any desert," she began, unable to shake the last memories of Belgard to the back of her mind. She rambled some out. "T'weren't ever a fancy I had. Married a chief; gave him a strong son and a bonny girl. Fought a rebellion and lost all of 'em to that war. Not much else to tell."

The memories soured her mood. She felt like hitting something, but there was nothing worth hitting, so she didn't. She quickly finished removing her bracers, the last bit of armor she had any plans to remove, and tucked a couple of her runed throwing axes back on her belt. "You'll have to tell me about those cities later. I've a dark cloud, now."

Mysaren frowned as she noticed Ayla's expression turn sour. "My deepest apologies, I did not mean to bring up any bad memories." She said sincerely, bowing her head a bit. "I did not mean to get you in a bad mood. Perhaps it was a bit of a faux pas for me to try to dig too deep into people's histories." She mentally kicked herself. Fuck. There went her chance of getting into Ayla's pants. No matter. She could salvage this.

"I could tell you more about the cities now, if it helps you take your mind off of it. I work in a library, Ms. Ayla, I should be rather good at telling stories, yeah? Could help the mood a bit as well. Everyone seems to be a bit pissy today, don't they? Kind of odd." Mysaren attempted to get comfortable in the bottom bunk, before giving up and climbing up to the top, settling down there. Much better. Gave her a bit of a vantage point as well.

"Or, at least, we can talk about the way you keep staring at me. It is a bit curious. Is there something in particular you keep staring at?"

Thaler gave and acknowledging wave of the hand as he gripped his sword sheathe and headed towards the back. "You can all me Thaler," he said in a non-committal tone of voice. "And don't bother yourself with him. If he can't handle a taste of what he gives, there's no point in bothering with it." He continued walking towards the mess. "Also, I'll pick some up later. I need to close my eyes for a bit. Just throw your crap anywhere."

The Wodane warrior closed her eyes as she stood in the doorway, doing her best to drive out thoughts of blood, fire and steel. The images simply grew all the bolder in color, all the brighter. There, the splash of red. It...

---

It was too much to bear. They'd stripped Mallach bare and tossed him into the pit with the boars. Ayla could hear her daughter screaming in despair, still unable to comprehend what had just happened but knowing all too well how wrong it was.

Ayla could not look away. There were tears in her eyes, too, a flood of them, but she said no words. Her stare was affixed to her brother's body; her eyes would not close though they knew what was coming. Those eager pigs waltzed up to the body at a leisurely pace, snorting and sniffing. Then, the brute beasts clamped their tusked maws about his arms and legs, ripping away flesh and swallowing it down right before her eyes.

Ayla tucked her daughter's head into her chest, letting the girl cry and cry. She covered her ears, too, not wanting sweet Ganna to hear the sickening crunch of teeth through bone. But Ayla couldn't look away.

---

When she came back to her senses, the girl was still talking of a library and stories. It didn't register fully with Ayla. The memories were too vivid. She scowled.

"I said," the warrior grunted between gritted teeth, "I've a dark cloud." She glanced back at Mysaren and gave her a serious look, looking a bit wilder than she intended. "I'll hear your stories later. Later. But I need a drink."

It wasn't the dark woman's fault, really. Ayla knew that. But these moods came upon Ayla too often, rare as they were. Any memory like that visited too often, even if "too often" was just once. She stalked out of the bunk room, intent on following the faint scent of cheap booze. That, however, turned into a walk outside and toward the training yard, perhaps the best place for her in such a foul mood.

She needed to hit something.

Mysaren felt her eyes widen at Ayla's outburst, and she had a bad feeling in her gut. "I....I'm s-sorry." She stammered, bowing quickly and letting Ayla leave. Fuck, she made her mad. That wasn't good. She sighed and watched Ayla leave, unsure of what to do now. She didn't want to follow her. That could end in a bad situation, and bad situations weren't... well, good.

Mysaren sighed and pulled out her translation project. Might as well get some work done while she waits. She hopped down and set everything out carefully on the floor, out of the way of any feet, and started to translate again. Her head hurt more and more as she flipped through the pages, and she felt herself get slowly more tired as she translated on. The whispering in her head (JOIN US JOIN US JOIN US JOIN US) got louder, and yet she marched on, oddly captivated.

"Aye Thaler, I'll be off.". Alexander passed the man and found his way to the room in which the two women most recently in his acquaintance were talking. Well, had been talking. Something had evidently gone awry, and Alexander feared for a moment that Ayla would be joining that prig in leaving the group. He claimed a bunk, throwing his pack on the ground and carefully laying his sword by the bedside. He looked to the dark-skinned woman, 'Mysaren' if he recalled correctly [which he usually did. Alexander rarely forgot a name, strangely enough], and let his smile grow.

He tried to piece together the parts of Ayla's departing comment that he heard, saying after a moment, "Don't worry too much about her, lass. Some folk get moods, 'specially those that've seen a fight or two in their time. Can't say I've ever stormed out of a room on account of one, but I'd not begrudge her, and I doubt she'd blame you for settin' one off.". He brushed himself off, and before Mysaren could respond began walking out. "Reckon I'll go find some breakfast around here. Bet these guards have some eggs, at least."

Breakfast wasn't the first thing on his mind, however. He was not sure why he felt the need to talk to Ayla, but he didn't think too hard on it. No matter the reason, making this group smooth would be good for everyone here. And, if she had good reason to be black, then that'd be good to hear. He caught up to the woman as she walked outside, stopping a handful of strides behind the woman and spoke in his loud bass.

"You off to get the rum, lass? If yer are, try not to get that lime-laced swill; limes never agreed with me, ye know?"

"Moment," mumbled the braided warrior in answer. "Wait a moment," she called out more loudly, turning the corner and stepping toward the training yard she'd seen earlier. She was very much caught up in foul thoughts, and there was something she needed to do.

There, in the training yard, she spotted a training dummy. In her paint she painted a Belgardian helm on it and the face of the rat bastard what touted on about traitors receiving their proper due. His sneer - she'd never had the chance to smash it off his face.

She liked to pretend, though. Ayla yanked an axe from her belt and hurled it over at the dummy in a clean motion. The resounding crack! that rose into the air was good and distinct. She stepped on forward slowly, pressed her foot against the poor dummy, and yanked the axe out from its chest. It felt good to do that, though not good enough.

"I'll get the drink," the Wodane said, looking on back at the big fellow and tucking her axe back into place. Her mind was a bit scattered at the moment, and the words didn't come out of her mouth quite right. "And I need to hit something... I'll get the beer."

Thaler leaned back in his chair, ruminating on the day's early events. He still wasn't sure how long it would take before Brint returned, and he needed someway to keep this motley lot occupied until their prospective leader was back in the fold. It was mid-morning though, and he still had time to think of something before long.

Just as he was about to let his eyes close, a fit muffled shouting carried through the wall and made the Thaler turn in his slouched position. What the fuck could they be arguing about already? But the moment passed, and the opening and closing of the front door set him at ease. No reason to worry over it. Let them figure out where they stand on their own. He propped his feet up onto an adjacent chair and steadily began to rock himself.

He fell asleep.
-

On the outskirts of town, a dotty old woman shuffled down the cobble-lined streets with a firm, stubborn purpose. She walked hunched over in a way that told you she had been a few inches taller as a younger woman. Her clothes were simple cloth, but seemed to be well taken care of, though they were a bit big on her diminutive figure. Her face was scrunched up in heavy thought, but her mouth contained the obvious wrinkles of someone who had laughed and smiled a lot during her long life.

On one arm she carried a large wicker basket that swayed with each step. In her other hand, clutched tightly in small fingers, was a flyer for The Silver Dagger.

Mysaren had opened her mouth to respond, but the man left before she could. Well, that was... interesting. Her hand was starting to cramp, so she decided she better go follow at least one of the bastards. She packed up her things and followed Alexander outside, watching Ayla. Oh, that... wasn't a good sign. Or, maybe it was. At least she was getting her anger out, and all the talk of alcohol around here was starting to give Mysaren a craving for it. Come to think of it, it had been a while since she had been to any of the pubs around here. Drinking could probably help her just... relax a bit.

Mysaren said nothing as she watched the interaction, shuffling to the side as Ayla turned to Alexander.

Alexander didn't know what made the woman so mad, but a drink would probably help. He began walking to a nearby tavern, remembering it from passing by on the way to the Dagger. If he remembered correctly, it was nowhere near as well-maintained as the Unicorn had been, but it would do just fine.

"Aye lass, I know the feeling. I figure a drink'd do us all good, but I reckon we'd better take it back t'the Dagger, figure that Thaler'll have something for us to get doing shortly."

Alexander didn't turn to check if the others were following him, but he kept his ears peeled and hoped that they would come with. If nothing else, he didn't much fancy taking two trips to carry the drink.

It was near late morning once again as Veslemoy approached the walls of Temrin. She'd have made better time, but considering her kill she felt it would be best to set up a temporary camp at the first source of flowing water she came across- to better field dress her deer before the meat spoiled in the oppressive heat of midday. It had the added benefit of lightening her load as well, the offal and less desirable intestines shifted over into a leather sack while the more tender meats, the heart and liver, would remain inside. She'd ended up staying the night beside the stream she'd found, a bit farther upwind from where she'd gutted the deer, and eaten heartily.

She'd even taken the initiative to bathe. The streams freshwater shockingly cold, but it did well to wash the stench of death, blood and deer off of her skin. Town dwellers tended to be uptight about such things, and if she wanted to join with these 'Silver Daggers' she would want to make a good impression at the least- although showing up covered in blood might work in her favor, it was better to stay on the safe side of decorum for now.

Temrin rose up around her and, hefting her deer a bit uncomfortably, she realized she'd made an error in judgement to call it a town. To be fair, the Jorunn tribe did not frequently travel through the same town twice, so her information was assuredly dated... but this level of change was a bit shocking.

Temrin was not a town, but a growing city full of endless waves of people of all sorts. The guards at the front gates gave her hard looks, taking in her rough appearance and the sizeable young buck she carried with ease over her shoulders. Perhaps it was the stag mostly that caught their eye, she was not a large woman but she was strong- was it so unusual that she could carry it? They let her pass unharassed however, probably assuming her to be a hunter of some sort. They wouldn't be wrong.

The noise was near overwhelming, and the hussle and bussle of the market square quickly swept her away as she aimlessly wandered the streets trying not to gawk like a country rube. After finding herself crossing the same fountain for a third time did she finally shake herself from her daze. Rolling her eyes at herself, she did what any proper tracker would do in such a situation. She followed her nose.

Strong smells have a way of making their way through the environment, and some of the more familiar are impossible to miss. Case in point, she soon found herself at the storefront of a tanner's somewhere closer to the outskirts of town. The strong pungent odor best kept far from the regular crowd of merchants, but still close enough to be found conveniently.

The tanner was a little man, and most likely smelled just as badly as his shop, but his demeanor was pleasant enough and smiled brightly when he saw her. Or rather the deer she carried most likely, as he immediately began talking shop. Veslemoy haggled with him for a bit, her deer hide would need tanning eventually and here was as good a place as any and much preferable to doing it on her own- she didn't much care for tanning. She seemed to get a fair price from it as well, the little man was more than pleased at least- and was more than willing to give her directions to the Silver Dagger when she mentioned she was in town to see them.

"Oh aye, them's lot is just a bit of a ways away," The man chattered on as he waved in the general area of the Silver Dagger, "Upwind mind, of course. It's only sensible. Bit new though, now that the old one done got burnt up in a bit of a fuss awhile back. You'da thought it would be fancier and all, but methinks they just wanted the thing up and done already- no patience these days. Big banner though, you can't miss it."

"I thank you for your help then, Tanner," Veslemoy said as she resettled her burden, "I will return with the skin as promised. Just as soon as I get things settled over there, you understand."

"See that you do, lass." The man waved her farewell and she once more set out against the crowd.

The Silver Dagger was as he described it, rough and newly raised in comparison to the other buildings she'd walked past. What it looked like didn't really matter to her mind, though she was pleased to see the stable house and promised herself a nice look-see when she was done.

Finally at the door, she reminded herself of her manners- city folk knocked didn't they. Knocking was a bit out of her abilities at the moment though, so she settled herself with rapping the door sharply with her boot. Hopefully someone would answer and tell her where to leave her stag... it was heavy and her shoulders were getting sore from more than a day and a half of carrying the beast. If all else fails she'd skin it near the stables, but she'd much rather not- the scent of blood could make horses skittish.

The Wodane stayed quiet as the two others followed her and spoke. She knew how to control herself well enough - letting loose a bit of anger by breaking something certainly helped - but she wanted to avoid saying something she might regret. These were, after all, to be her new kith. They would shed blood alongside her, and what bond could be closer than that?

So Ayla stayed muted as she followed Alexander, avoiding making any outbursts. Her ill mood showed in other ways, however: her stride, her balled fists, her hawkish expression... And she knew, she simply knew to look toward the door of the Silver Dagger. And there she was: some woman with a massive deer thudding her boot against the door in the distance.

Ayla didn't make any verbal note of it. She looked, though, and she looked a good long time. Ayla, however, kept on walking. She needed a damned drink.

"Whiskey," she said finally, breaking her vigil. "We're getting some bleeding whiskey. And we're getting cider, too: good, hard, crisp cider." There wasn't any room for argument in her tone. She was calming considerably, however, and a moment later, the warrior added, "There be a lot of things what put a dark cloud over me, but I've no quarrel with you folk. Just... Know when to leave me be. I've a right temper."

"Uh, Right. Alcohol, yes. Sounds... good to me." Mysaren nodded, glad that Ayla was finally calming down a bit. "Uh, of course. I'll be more considerate next time. Sorry." She followed behind Ayla, keeping her distance just in case Ayla decided to lose her temper again. Mysaren looked back at Alexander, beckoning him to follow as she went in pursuit of alcohol. Maybe that would help numb the headache a bit. Or get her drunk enough to where she could pass out. Both were equally nice options, certainly.

Alexander came out of the pub feeling optimistic. Under each arm he carried a barrel, one of cider and one of beer. The barrels themselves were fairly shoddy, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. The coopery was not why he made the purchase. His companions were laden down with drinks, each less encumbered than Alexander but still laden to bear with liquor. Alexander walked slowly back to the Silver Dagger, a spring in his step, happy to see the row settled to satisfaction, slowed by his load slightly as it sloshed and occasionally threw him slightly off balance. He was walking alongside his companions, speaking to address the group as a whole, in the mirthful tones of his "storyteller's voice", drawing the occasional unfriendly glance from the now-dwindled crowd, unused to such brash behaviour at such an early hour of the morning.

"Oh, if yer lookin' fer tempers, we had a few real shield-biters in the company. Black folks" He caught himself, remembering his dark-skinned companion "black as in dark folks, bad folks who're used to bloody business. Not, yer know..,". Soldiering through the chagrin, he continued. "Anyway, load of them were right cunts every hour o'the day, but what always got me were this one feller, scout called sheepskin, no-one knew why."

Alexander dodged a passerby and continued the story unabated. "I always figured it were because most o' the time, he was meek as a lamb, but I aint' never seen a man get madder in my life, I swear. Only saw it twice, but I were scared stiff both times, and that aint' something I make a habit of, yer know?". Alexander guffawed, stopping himself just short of continuing his story when he caught sight of a woman at the door of the Dagger, looking like she meant to be there.

He stopped and turned to his companions, asking more softly while gesturing to the waiting lady, "Any o' you know here? Looks like we got a new recruit, either way."

Veslemoy waited patiently for the door to be answered... but as the few moments stretched into a few minutes she began to consider knocking again. She kicked the door a bit harder- perhaps a bit more than was necessary but who would blame her. The sun was hot on her back, the sweat trickling down her shoulders made her neck itch- and the stag wasn't getting any lighter as time rolled on.

Again she waited, and again still nothing. She shifted her weight and jostled her burden, the deers lolling head thudding against her as the dead weight it was, and she was beginning to regret not leaving it with the Tanner- she could have, but she had no money to pay for his 'holding' fee, reasonably priced or no.

The door shuddered with the next blow of her muddy boot. She glared, now quite thoroughly peeved as the solidly built door seemed to mock her with its immobility, its unvarnished grain and plain door handle quite uncaring to her predicament.

Finally, after swatting a third fly away from her face, her fraying patience gave out and with a final glare she took a deep breath bringing air to the very bottom of her lungs...

"'LO THE HOUSE OF THE SILVER DAGGERS!" She bellowed fit to rattle the rafters, the sound of people approaching belatedly reaching her ears, "OPEN THE DAMNED DOOR! You ruddy bastards..."

Somehow, the overburdened woman's struggle brought a massive grin back to Ayla's face. It was too much. She burst out laughing as the shouting woman answered Alexander's question for him, and she strode on up to the door. There, she set her keg of rum down, giving the deer-toting woman as serious a look as she could muster - which is to say she was barely able to hold back further laughter and tears - and opened the door, just like that.

"Just in time," she replied, knowing fully well just how long the woman had been waiting there. "We'll have something to sup on along with our liquid courage. Get you in, then; we're all looking to join this lodge!"

And, being the sort of woman she was, Ayla stepped on in first, hefting her barrel back up as she went, letting out a happy sigh as she breathed in the smell of what was soon to be venison. She wondered idly if there'd be a mess on the floor, but that was probably someone else's job. Perhaps the dark-skinned woman would clean it, given she'd not lugged a barrel into the building. That seemed fitting.

"Oi!" she called as she entered the common room. "Thaler, sir! We've a grand feast to present, we do!"

Alexander laughed a second later, much less exuberant than his companion, but no less full of mirth. This seemed like the set up to a bad jape: a woman and a dead deer walk into a guild hall probably HAD been the set up to a bad jape Alexander had heard at some point. Alexander walked past the woman at the door, turning his body ninety degrees to fit his load through the door. As he slipped past the deer-laden woman, he spoke, his stride not breaking.

"Aye lass, yer in good company here. Welcome ter the party, so it is. I'm Alexander, that'uns Ayla, and behind us the dark-skinned woman's My-saren, er however it's said."

Alexander slid past after speaking and hastily looked for a place to deposit his burden, his arms beginning to strain at the exertion of carrying such a weight, his mind beginning to regret not taking two trips. Turning as he remembered something, he spoke again to deer-woman, walking backwards tentatively while he did so.

"Try not ter get blood everywhere, eh? I figure I'm the only man here who aint paying the bills, I'm going ter be on cleanup. Last thing I want to do is scrub blood from floors I aint even walked on yet, eh?"

He turned and resumed his search for the pantry.