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Season: Late Fall/Early Winter
Time Of Day: Sunset
Weather: While the season is broaching on winter the temperature is unseasonably warm out, feeling more like a mid-spring day than well past harvest time. It rained earlier in the day, so the air is thick with humidity. With the sun setting the temperature is dropping but still well in the 60's Fahrenheit. Clouds still hang in the sky and are rolling quickly with the steady winds kicking up.
General Ambiance: A grey overtone to the colors around makes it seem sickenly dreary thanks to the weather and tensions are running high with all you pass due to the war between humans and Orcs.
Location: Hamlet of Salarn in the region of Gorlf just south of the Orc Settlement of Yzewz
Setting: The Hamlet of Salarn is reasonably sized with multiple roads cutting through it. Main points of interest include -

• Crossed Swords Inn And Tavern - Center of Town - 2 Story Building - The heart of the city, stable attached to the north side of the Tavern.
• The Graveyard - Northwest Outskirts of Town - Multiple Graves have been dug up.
• Deymins Tower - Northeast Outskirts of Town - 3 Story Cylindrical Stone Tower - Where the Necromancer is holding up and protected by his undead.
• Constable & Cells - South Center of Town - The towns Constable is here as well as the jail and all things militia.
• The Temple - North Center Of Town - Single Story Large Building With Two Story Tower - several militia posted outside.
• Streets are moderately crowded with people.
• Plenty of shops - General Store, Apothecary, Armorer, Blacksmith, Jeweler, Market Trade - All scattered through out the city between the cottages.

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The sun was setting and streams of orange and crimson broke the horizon, casting ominous shadows throughout the hamlet of Salarn. The town was surrounded by makeshift barricades constructed of spiked tree trunks. It was not much but it was enough to slow an attack and raise the growing militia. The only entrance to the Salarn laid at the south and was guarded by several of the militia who would stop and question any they thought looked suspicious. Trust was not a luxury they could afford right then.

Standing on the porch of the Law Building was an older man, picking his teeth and nodding every so often at the passersby. He did not appear to have much in the way weapon or armor but his clothing was finer than most. The constable known as Marcus to those in Salarn, whom was in charge of the local militia, was flanked on each side by two commonly dressed men with pole arms. His features seemed plagued with the on goings of the town; the raids were anything but a secret in this part of the region and word traveled fast.

To the north, at the Crossed Swords Tavern & Inn, the mood was very different than throughout the rest of Salarn. Inside the people were jovial and enjoying themselves, trading tales of the last Orc Raid. Even though they had lost many, many an Orc had been slaughtered and the advance had been stopped. They rose their pints of ale to the fallen and laughed as the smell of burning corpses would waft into the town from time to time; the bodies of the Orc being set aflame in a pit to the far east of the village.

The people sang songs and standing on the bar that ran the length of one of the walls inside of the tavern stood a jovial gnome who cracked jokes and let the ale flow to all the patrons. A bright smile remained plastered on his face as he served those that came into the tavern for drink or rest. Nothing seemed to be able to bring this little man down and his personality was larger than life; heart of a dragon he did have.

“Let them come, we will smite them and bring them down to my size! And then I will drink another pint! To Salarn!” the gnome yelled out as he beat his chest. The patrons rose their pints and cheered, smacking their hands on the tables and bar tops.

“To Femnal the Great!” the patrons yelled in response and the gnome laughed.

“To me!” Femnal laughed as he downed a pint.

At the bar smirking to himself was an older man who was thick, never having missed a meal, with a far too wide brimmed hat. Femnal jumped down and took a seat next to the man patting him on the shoulder. The man chuckled as he watched Femnal, hushed words spoken between them that was drowned out by the cheers and ruckus of the patrons.

“I see, I will let you know if I see anything Cremwise,” Femnal said with a broad smile on his lips before heading back behind the bar and tending to the people once again. Cremwise nodded and turned around, placing his back to the bartop and watching the festivities with much interest; taking note of those that would enter the tavern.

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It had been a long and arduous journey, days out on the merchants roads, passing by those that had enough of the turmoil in Salarn and were heading away from the war. Others were in a hurry to make their way to the hamlet in hopes of making a quick gold piece selling their wares.

Kyra paid them no mind and few dared approach her, not because of her appearance, she seemed harmless enough due to stature and build; the young dire wolf that padded along beside her though was another story. Any that would try to come near her seemed to be met with bared teeth and a warning growl. Kyra could only shrug to those that would come close as she ran her fingers through his thick fur.

"Ash, do you think you are being a bit too protective?" Kyra said in a soft bird like voice as she knelt down and scratched the top of his head. Ash looked at her before turning his head and growling at yet another that came to close to his Alpha. Kyra just rolled her eyes and rose, continuing her way towards Salarn.

As the sun began to set the town came into view and a relieved sigh came from the platinum headed ranger, pulling the hood of her mantle back. She was looking forward to a meal that did not consist of dried anything and a bed of feathers down instead of a trees limb this evening.

"What business do you have here?" one of the militia asked as she approached the entrance to Salarn, Ash stepping between her and the poorly equipped man.

"I come on behalf of the Woodland Elves to see what is happening with the Orcs to the North," Kyra stated flatly.

"You are not an elf," he said in a ranger proud voice.

"Really? I didn't know," she quipped quickly. "I thought my ears would surely get pointy eventually."

The man narrowed his eyes and Kyra shook her head slightly, she wondered if he had hit every branch on the stupid tree as he fell. Taking a deep breath she explained that word had reached the Woodland Elves that goblins would be trying to create an alliance with the Orcs in this skirmish and she was sent to find out of such rumors were true.

"Oh, I.. I don't know. You would need to speak with Marcus, you can find him at his office just north of the entrance," the man said. Kyra nodded and began to make her way within the city walls. "But your dog has to stay here."

Ash growled at the man, his fur rising slightly. Kyra shrugged as she kept walking. "If you think you can stop him, go ahead," she said in a snarky tone and Ash took off to come up beside her. The militia just stood there watching as Kyra and Ash wandered into Salarn.

"Yeah, well, just keep him on a short leash!" the man called , trying to retain some kind of imaginary dignity.

"And this is the trouble with border towns." Lucan droned on to Brie as he had for the last few hours he had been on her back, watching as the platinum-haired woman spoke with the guards and made her way into the town itself. "Just once i'd like a friendly welcome, not the whole 'you look an awful lot like a bandit to me' bit, you know?" Brie huffed in agreement, or at least Lucan chose to take it as agreement, running his hand momentarily through her mane as he sighed, trotting her up to the guards slowly, putting on his acting chops as he approached.

"Evening chaps! Good to see you're all working hard keepin' the town safe, what would we folk do without you?" Stunningly, Lucan's flattery failed to impress the militia as they barred his way with crossed spears, Brie huffing as she came to a stop, one of the Militiamen approaching the rider and giving him a long look. "State your business in Salarn." He uttered rather plainly, obviously getting a bit tired of repeating the line to those who came through, Lucan was willing to bet this man was getting close to the end of a long day of work.

Leaning down, Lucan gave the man a winning smile and spoke to him a hushed tone. "Look friend, you've been working hard today, harder than these chumps, why don't you take the break you deserve and we can talk about why i'm here later, huh?" With that, he slipped a few gold into the militiaman's hand. Had it been earlier in the day, and the man more bothered to actually do his job, it was quite possible this sort of tactic wouldn't have worked in Lucan's favour, and he himself still had doubts over whether it actually would.

After a few moments of awkward, dubious silence, the militiaman he spoke to slid the coins into a pouch on his belt, turning toward the other guards. "Soldier returning from the front, let the boy through so he can get some rest." He informed his partners, they seemed to question the validity of the reasoning, but did as they were told, allowing Lucan passage into the town. "Thank you kindly sirs, enjoy a drink on me in the tavern tonight!" He made his way past them, glancing back when he was sure they were out of earshot. "Can't believe that works every time."

For a short while, Lucan trotted through the town on Brie, looking the place over as he gathered a vague idea of the local landmarks. Eventually, he decided to make his way to the tavern, carefully he climbed down off Brie, leading her into the stable and tying her rein off onto a post, giving her a gentle stroke of the mane and a carrot to help her relax. "Try to relax for the night, darlin', we should be heading off again tomorrow." He gave her another affectionate pat before he moved off, heading inside.

The tavern was abuzz with activity, just as Lucan liked it. He took a brief moment to look over the majority of those present, there were the usual groups, the gamblers, he liked them, the drunks, he liked them too, the quiet people in the corners, he liked them less, and the barmaids. He particularly liked them. Moving to an empty booth, he took a seat and waited for one of the barmaids to approach, after offering a few flirtatious comments, he ordered a simple mug of ale, settling back in his seat as he looked over the tavern and those within it, expecting and hoping for a fairly quiet night, without incident.

"So you have no idea what this is, then?" Seph asked, holding out the dull, dark amber stone in her palm. She already knew the answer, but it was worth hearing. She only needed one time to be different.

"I'm afraid not, dear," the jeweler, an old white-haired man, said. He looked apologetic, which was all the evidence Seph needed to guess he was telling the truth. What cause would he have to lie to her? "You might try the apothecary, though? Perhaps he will know more."

"Already did," Seph said, closing her fingers around the stone and sliding it back into its soft leather pouch. The pouch she dropped into a small bag clipped to the side of her belt. She nodded, tapping the jeweler's counter top lightly and reaching two fingers into another pouch. "Thank you anyway. For your time," she flipped a single coin through the air, into the old man's hand. He nodded and smiled as Seph departed.

The air was unseasonably humid, causing Seph to tug at the neck of her robe as she walked. It had been a long day. The young healer and would-be monk had arrived in Salarn earlier that day, just after the day's raid from the orcs. Though she had not participated, Seph was quick to lend her services in the aftermath. Many were injured in the fighting. Some were too far gone to be saved by her own modest skills, but others were more fortunate. More than a few of those that had fought only still lived because of her efforts.

In all, it was enough to earn her free drinks and a place to stay at the inn for as long as she needed. Such kindness was not uncommon, Seph found, when skilled healing services were freely offered, especially in times of war. Seph graciously accepted, and vowed to not entirely drain their stores of ale and wine. In fact it was only now that her work was finished and her questions asked for the day, that Seph finally allowed herself to relax, and entered the inn.

The mood inside immediately drew a smile to her lips, and she made her way to the bar, settling sideways on a stool and catching the eye of the boisterous gnome serving drinks. "I think it's well past time I had a pint. How about it?"

Location: Arriving at Salarn - Crossed Swords Inn & Tavern

Interacting With: Militia, Barmaids

A silhouette came into view, steadily trudging toward the southern gate to Salarn in the dying light of the evening. A tall, broad silhouette, walking with solid steps ever closer to the assembled militiamen guarding the one remaining ingress to the town proper. Each footfall packed the earth beneath it down with a wet, gravelly crunch; a heraldic drum beat, signalling an event to come, simultaneously too rapid for comfort yet slow enough to build maddenning anxiety.

The figure walked alone, never speaking, never straying from its beeline to Salarn. A feeling of ominous weight fell upon the ramshackle guards of the evening's watch. The figure was close enough now to discern some detail; it was respectably large, most likely male, wearing a hooded long coat of crafted hide, tooled and segmented into cunning armor. A bulky travelers pack hung from the stranger's back, swaying gently to the cadence sounded by his thick black boots all the while. The man carried no obvious weaponry. As an observational irony, this fact seemed to make him more daunting, rather than less.

The stranger was almost on top of them now - he stood at least a head taller then any of the men assembled in stalwart defense of their town, possibly a foot broader. The militiamen stood at shaky attention, determined to halt the progress of their latest arrival.

"You.." the watch sergeant chirped, before regaining composure fully, "You there! State your business in Salarn! Quick about it!"

The open hood of the man swiveled toward the voice, and issued a bass, noncommittal response, "Hungry." before parting open the hem of his coat to administer a much wanted, in depth scratching session to his posterior.

He stepped forward. The guards fell back a step in response, but had the presence of mind to grab for their weapons, irregular in issue. Obviously, these men were not satisfied with his response. The large man sighed loudly and pulled back his hood. The results, to the chagrin of the militiamen gathered, were no less intimidating.

It was a man, after all. Scarred, possessed of close-cropped dark hair and about a week of unapologetic facial stubble. Scars intersected at various points of his blocky features; features which now showed a scowl of impatience and steel-grey eyes.

"Bloody 'ell is this bronzecockery about, then?" he growled in a decidedly urban underclass accent.

For a moment, the stranger considered the effort it would take to shake the watch sergeant unconscious, then use him as a flail to beat the rest of his men into submission. Possibly afterward, he'd sit on the bastard's head until he woke, and open the vaporous contents of his lower intestine to blast the man back to blessed sleep with styxian ass-air. The consideration was fleeting; such an action would be ultimately counterproductive. No, he would have to use his practically non-existant people skills here.

"Name of Keystone. I'm fresh out of a conflict 'gainst an army of the dead, some many leagues east of here. I need ale, food, and rest, in that order, and you're standing between me and it. 'xcuse."

While not the most eloquent of speeches, it served well enough to gain him unchallenged entrance. A few steps inward, he strained his ears to catch any snatch of conversation that would point him in the right direction. After a short while, he found that he was headed in the right direction anyway; straight north to the center of town. The hub of activity. the place where he could bet a tankard of something bitter-sour and foamy, maybe some food.

His pace quickened. Now that Keystone knew where to go, the fun lay in getting there. From a distance, he spotted the sign of the Crossed Swords, and heard the merriment coming from within. This was his kind of place.

Before entering, something caught his eye. A glimmer on the edge of his visual perception, something incidental he had been looking for. A general goods store. He jogged in, lightened his coinpurse just a bit, and exited with two ledger-style books, blank, and appropriate writing materials. Many things in time of war get bought out or confiscated. Luckily for him, tools of literacy are rarely among them.

Keystone returned to the Crossed Swords, ever so slightly more optimistic about this hamlet, and found an unoccupied seat at the bar. The proprietor seemed a touch busy being boisterous and charming, so the large man caught eyes with a nearby serving lady, and beckoned her over.

"Evening, miss. I'm needing something stout and hoppy in a large mug, and keep 'em coming. If you lot've got anything ready to eat in back, I'd be much appreciative.

The barmaid returned quickly with the ale, promising a short wait on food, and moved to attend other customers. An afterthought struck the burly fighter, prompting him to call after his alehouse hostess, "Ey, Miss! I thought I heard chatter about a Temple on m'way in. Any Monk-folk about, as you're knowing?"

"Wait the wold was with someone, that's nice but I really think we should watch our backs." A gnome said to an owl that landed next to him. The owl itself simply let out a 'hoo' and scratched the ground while contorting it's neck. Thelin looked at the scratches on the ground, a crude drawing of a dog and a stick figure with long hair. "Well, might as well keep going, maybe if we catch up to that big fellow that just went by he can protect me from the wolf. Lucky you, you can just fly." He laughed and brushed the owl away, and away it flew.

Thelin had been on the road for some time, long enough for it to have gotten dark after he left, leaving him in charge of guiding several sleepy hummingbirds to some place they could rest. Most had taken up residence in the nest atop the drift globe that remained unlit due to concerns over nearby wolves, or wolf in this case. only one took residence asleep on his shoulder, the flock leader Tyel, who stood at attention and awake.

With a sigh and a few silent reassuring thoughts, Thelin rose from the forest floor and made his way back to the path. He had to hide at the sound of panting and wolf like footsteps reported by a nice owl a few moments earlier. A simple step off the path and into the dark forest was enough to slip out of sight. Back on the path however, it was clear the wolf was a bit bigger than he was used to, probably the size of a horse, and that meant that it was easily a few feet taller than Thelin on all four paws. He shuddered at the thought of it but he had a dead man's wishes to fulfill and the town was in sight now.

Thelin, however, knew he could not do it on his own and lit the drift globe waking up several small hummingbirds and startling Tyel off of his shoulder and the group took flight, buzzing around him as the light signaled his approach to the guards of the town. He could see them clearly but knew most humans had no hope of seeing him in that dark, especially against the torches that they held in front of their eyes.

"Ay, State your business in Salarn." A voice stated as he was nearing the gate. The man was obviously tired of saying it, no enthusiasm, no enjoyment. Pure monotone boredom pouring from his mouth.

"I am here to stay the night, maybe see some good old battlefield action?" Thelin mimed a fight, swinging a twig like a sword while Tyel dodged and maneuvered around it in a mock fight. "A good old fashioned orc on man battle. It's on the list of things to do before death. I'm sure you understand." he smiled tossing the stick behind him.

The guard did not return the smile. "I'm sorry, but with things the way they are we cannot just allow you in to 'watch a fight' as you say. We have too many visitors tonight as is, plus that wolf..." He spoke with the same bored tone. "I can point you in the direction of a tavern near by that could take a traveler or two, only about a three hour ride, five hour walk to that way." he pointed down the path Thelin just walked five hours up.

"You must be joking, you want me to TURN back? It's night! I'll be eaten by wolves!" Thelin said. "I'd much rather run the risk of being eaten by the one you let into town!" He begged. The man was not having it and pointed once more down the path.

Thelin sighed, tapped the driftglobe which quickly shut off and fell to the ground. He waved his hands and all the torches dimmed, almost going out for no reason it seemed leaving all eyes with minimal vision, but still able to view the gnome taking a drink from a mysterious bottle. The entire area was then bathed in light, bright as a large fire originating from the mouth of the gnome, but no heat was felt, just a pitch black blindness for a few moments until all the torches sparked to their original brightness once more, leaving the gnome nowhere to be seen. An image of the gnome heading back down the path put the guards at ease. "Gnomes... Strange little people" is all Thelin heard as he made his way to the barn, his illusion fading as it exited view.

The tavern called his name and he approached after Tyel returned to his shoulder and the flock to their nest, which had maneuvered itself onto his pack along with the drift globe. Poor Tyel had fallen asleep and needed to be paced into the bird's nest atop the globe. With a yawn and a step and a quick gasp, shuffle and deer in the headlights look, it seemed Thelin found a wolf, and it was a big one. He stood in the light of a nearby torch, frozen and staring with a flock of hummingbirds in his pack and nothing in his hands, terrified.

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Season: Late Fall/Early Winter
Time Of Day: Dusk has fallen
Weather: The weather is still muggy and the clouds still roll through the sky, the temperature is dropping some now that the sun has fallen behind the horizon.
General Ambiance: Tense throughout the town but people are winding down and starting to find their way back in doors for the night. Within the Tavern it is all peaches and cream.
Location: Hamlet of Salarn in the region of Gorlf just south of the Orc Settlement of Yzewz
Setting: Salarn Currently

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New arrivals to the tavern with faces he had never seen before always made Femnal smile, not that the man didn’t constantly wear one plastered on his features but it seemed to brighten with every new comer to walk through his doors. For the most part he did not care who wandered into the tavern as long as they drank and paid. Money was money after all.

His eyes first fell onto the young man who looked like he had seen far too much time on the road but he was being taken care of by one of the barmaids so there was no need to make introductions as of yet but he would eventually. He made it a point to get to know all he could of any that came into what he referred to as his home.

Then came the young woman who to him seemed a bit out of place in such an establishment but who was he to judge? This tavern brought in all types, especially these days. He had seen her around after the last battle and took note of her healing the wounded. He would not begrudge such aide in time of war. A war he hoped would stay on pause for another day or two. Both sides needed time and he wondered still just why the Orcs had suddenly taken it upon themselves to break the peace treaty.

“Aye lass, anytime past awaking is time for ale!” he laughed as he filled a pint with golden liquid and a nice froth to the top before he set it before her. “I must thank you for your assistance after the last battle, you had to have saved saved several that would have surely perished. I am sure their families are most grateful,” he added as glanced around, taking note of at least two within the tavern that she had healed; them doing their best to wreck their livers.



The barmaid looked towards Keystone and his question about the temple in the village, she held up a finger to pause the conversation for a moment before heading to the back of the tavern. She slipped to the other side of a swinging door for a few minutes before emerging once again with a plate of food.

It was nothing special; a large helping of roasted meat, a bowl of stewed root vegetables, a nice thick slice of a well-aged cheese and a hunk of wheat honey bread. Setting it down before him, along with a hefty pint of ale she dusted her hands off on her apron before answering him.

“Why yes, in fact there be Monk-folk about. The temple belongs to those known as the Yellow Rose in these parts, I think they have another name but that is what I know them by. Don’t know a lot about them, they don’t exactly come wandering into here but I’ve seen a few here and there about town. Usually with some shiny snobbed knight, um a paladin, yeah that’s it. They be odd monks, I seen them with the animals, seems they can talk to them,” she said before shrugging and heading away from the table to tend to others and refill the empty pints that seemed to be never ending.

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Kyra just shook her head at the words of the militia as he warned her to keep Ash on a leash, which was the last thing she would try to do to her young friend. If the man wanted Ash to lash out on the unsuspecting folks of the town he needed to only try to tie up the adolescent wolf; his demeanor was far less accommodating than Kyras.

Brushing her hair out of her face she made her way in silence towards where she could find the constable for the town; the one she was told went by the name of Marcus. She wanted to get to the tavern so she could rest for the evening there were more pressing matters at hand. It was simple enough to find the man; he stood out in his red ropes and bald hair. Not armed but with the militia to either side of him and the bars on the windows of the building he stood before one would have to be daft not to know who he was.

”Marcus I presume?” Kyra said in a cordial voice as she stepped up onto the porch and Ash rested down on his hind quarters next to her. The man looked at her oddly for a moment, the militia to either side of him tightening their grip on their pole arms. Kyra extended a hand in greeting, Marcus nodding slightly and shaking her hand momentarily.

“That I am, and you would be?” he asked, rather curious to what this short statured woman with the wolf would be doing in his town.

”I am Kyra Altham, here on request of the Woodland Elves,” she said as she shook his hand before letting the grip drop and lacing her fingers in front of herself. The mans brow arched slightly at her words.

“Mani naa lle essa?” Marcus said, his elvish was boorish and his pronunciation was atrocious, Kyra having to force herself not to shake her head in disgust.

”Kukuwa, no’ behalf en’ house Alion,” she said gently, the words rolling off her tongue as if she had been born to them.

“You are the Dove of King Alions court?” Marcus replied in slight shock.

”It seems my reputation precedes me,” she said with a smirk gracing her lips as she pulled her hair to the side to reveal the intricately designed dove tattoo that marked onto her throat.

“That it does Mi’Lady, I have heard tales of the war between the Goblin and the Woodland Elves. The one that sticks out is that of a young human who stood against the general Xrax to save the young princes life,” he remarked as he examined her tattoo. “What brings you so far from the Woodland Realm?”

”We received word that Xrax may be heading this way to form an alliance with the Orcs, I came to see if such rumors were true,” she said as she pursed her lips to the side slightly. Ashes ears seemed to perk a bit and he took off into the streets of the town. Kyra paid it no mind but the militia seemed a bit worried. ”He won’t cause any trouble.”

“I see, well we have not heard anything nor seen any goblins in these parts in some ages,” Marcus said as he eyes followed Ash before he disappeared down the side of a building into the shadows. “You sure he won’t cause trouble?”

”I see, well that is good to know and yes I am sure. Would you mind if I stuck around for a few days to make sure and see what I can surmise from my own observations?” she asked, wanting to get the conversation over with quickly, the winds were picking up and the smell of burning flesh was beginning to wear on her.

“Of course, if you find anything, you will let me know?” Marcus asked. Kyra nodded and shook the mans hand before pulling the hood of her mantle up and making her way in the direction that Ash had taken.

It did not take long for her to find Ash, he was standing there eyeing what could have easily been a meal for him but he was making no attempt to attack the little one. The poor thing looked like it was about to be slaughtered from the look in his eyes. Kyra drew a deep sigh and rushed over to Ash, placing her hand on his head and running her fingers through his hair.

”Don’t worry, he won’t bite unless you try to harm him or me. Dire wolves are just curious is all and he is still pretty much a pup,” she said in a soft voice as she knelt down next to Ash, still ruffling his fur. ”This is Ash and I am Kyra, you are?”

"The ale is thanks enough," Seph said with a grin, taking hold of the pint and drinking deeply. Her mannerisms were hardly delicate; growing up on the rough streets of Ravens Bluff had not conditioned her to be that way. And despite her smaller stature and her young age, Seph was able to hold her drink quite well. The benefits of starting early, she supposed. It often popularized her with common folk, she found, when she proved she was not some dainty, self-absorbed girl who had separated herself from society, but a commoner and a street-experienced citizen, like themselves. Perhaps her manner would have been different had she been able to continue her training, but fate had seen it otherwise.

Turning around on the bar stool, Seph placed her back against the countertop, putting her elbows up on the surface, and perching one foot on the lower rung of the stool. At ease, she surveyed the growing crowd of patrons with a seemingly permanent half-smile etched on her features. Her eyes caught the gaze of a younger militiaman, one of those that she had saved earlier in the day. She smiled at him, and he reddened, grinning boyishly back and returning to his game of dice. Seph was well aware that the man had some attraction to her, but he also had a wife, and she had been most thankful for Seph's healing services as well.

There were a few of the newer arrivals, including two men she had not yet noticed throughout the day. They didn't appear to be part of the militia. Rising, Seph carried her drink over to the one at a booth alone. He was handsome and he looked quite able. His isolation struck her as odd. She leaned an arm against the opposite end of the booth from him.

"Drinking alone, are we? On a night of celebration like this?" she grinned, somewhat teasingly. "I'm new here, I don't believe we've met. I'm Persephone." She extended her free hand out to the man.

Taking the mug of ale brought to him by the barmaid with a friendly smile and a generous tip, he brought the drink to his lips and downed some of the bitter liquid, he let the feeling of it linger for a moment, the hoppy flavour, the lingering, bitter aftertaste, even the aroma. He took it all in before he finally swallowed, letting out a satisfied sigh, enjoying his cheap ale like any royal would enjoy a cup of fine wine. Setting the mug back down on the table gently, he shifted his gaze back toward the tavern just in time to catch sight of the woman approaching his booth. The usual thought ran through his head, did she look like she wanted to kill him? No, she was smiling and not in the usual sort of way a bounty hunter did, besides, she didn't look like a lawman of any kind.

Priest? Lucan wondered, mind rushing to conclusions as he examined her garb. No, priests don't go to taverns except in poor jokes, or at least, they don't drink there. Staff on her back, bindings on her hands... Monk, must be, a friendly one too from the look of that militiaman... Monks weren't too stuck up, were they? Well, he'd find out, women were always a good way to get a free room for the night, and one approaching him was generally a good place to start. Finally she reached his table, it hadn't exactly been that long, Lucan just liked to imagine that his mind worked much faster than it actually did. "Night of celebration, hm? I mustn't have gotten the message." He chuckled, in a deliberately awkward fashion. "I suppose I just haven't found the right company yet." He added, to answer her initial query, smiling up at her in a charming fashion, listening as the woman introduced himself.

"No, I don't believe we have, I just arrived in town, i'm Lu-" He cut himself off, playing it off with a brief cough as his mind stopped him continuing. He doubted she had anything to do with the law, and he was far enough away from home to have not seen any wanted posters for a while, oh well, the risk would be taken. "Pardon me, ale went down wrong. I'm Lucan." He introduced himself properly, bringing up his hand to take hers, giving it a gentle shake. "To what do I owe the pleasure of the good company?" He queried out of genuine interest, it wasn't unheard of for women to approach him, but it was certainly rarer than he approaching them. Especially when they themselves held some modicum of attractiveness themselves.

He certainly wasn't concerned over her reasons for approaching him, at least, not any more, he'd already decided that she could not have been too major a threat, and he doubted even if she were that she would want to create a scene in the busy tavern. But still, he didn't let those thoughts show on his face, just maintaining his trademark, winning smile.

The leaf fall squelched under foot as he walked through the graveyard. Dew already glistened on the bushes and shrubs as night fell and a grey mist started to close in. The air was stiller here, sheltered by the trees.

The figure walking through the graveyard pulled his cloak tighter more out of habit than any real reason. This felt bad. He was limping slightly on his left leg, the result of a recent skirmish with some soldiers. He had managed to repair his chain mail, but the wound just didn't seem to want to close up properly so blood trickled slowly down the outside of his leg under his armour. Nice, happy graveyards where everyone was resting in peace didn't feel like this. He remembered old rumours of an secret coven of nymphomaic leggy blondes hidden in the woods.

That had turned out to be a trap created by soul sucking faeries.

Why was it that rumours of hundreds of sex starved girls normally turned out to be lies, but rumours of people raising armies of corpses to kill everyone normally turned out to be true?

There was something unfair there, he felt.

He came to the first of the empty graves, knelt down beside it. He pulled a glowing rock from a belt pouch to help him see and looked over the hole in the ground. He reached into the loose earth with a suntanned hand, and ran it through his fingers. He raised his fingers to his lips, sniffed the gravedirt. licked his fingers, tasted the gravedirt. It tasted like mud. Kent stood up, shaking his head sadly.

He pulled himself to his feet and walked across the graveyard to the next empty grave leaving a trail of footprints in the early evening dew. This grave he also knelt down beside and checked. This grave he also wasn't happy with what he found. He stood up, brushed the dirt off on the side of his equally grubby cloak. His eyes scanned the graveyard again, trying to put a finger on exactly what was wrong here. Of course, he had his suspicions. He, like everyone else, had heard things. But hearing them and seeing, touching and poking them were two different things. So the figure in the muddy cloak spent over an hour nosing around the graveyard, occasionally scraping ivy off a tombstone so he could read it better or moving a bramble out of the way to see what was under it.

Then he limped back out of gate, down the path and back to the road towards the guards and the gate.

The road was quieter now and he was able to make reasonable time, despite the darkness. Most folks had pressed on to try and get to town before this late hour. He didn't really blame them for that, what with the night smelling of burnt orc an all. But then most folks hadn't spent most of this morning looking for their thrice-cursed-now-missing backpacks, or felt the need to go poking cemeteries just to confirm that there were, infact, undead there.

He soon made the town gate, and threw back his hood as he approached. The gate was closed.

“Oi!..”

The traveller yelled.

“Who goes there?” A faceless voice replied from the other side.

“My name is Saul Kent. I seek shelter, and food.”

“I know no man called Kent! Begone from here!”

'Well, that went well' Kent thought to himself. “I can earn my shelter!”

“We have enough farmhands!”

“I'm no farmhand! I am a carpenter!”. Well, it wasn't really a lie. He had never been apprenticed to anyone, but was fairly sure he could make a passable chair or whatever if he had to.

A lantern blinked on at the top of the fence, it's beam wavering down the path a bit until it shone in his eyes and made him squint. The gate creaked a bit as it swung open.

“You are welcome, Saul Kent. There is a tavern in the centre of town where you may find shelter.”

“Thank you” Kent nodded as he walked into town. It was often an interesting test of the mood of a place, he found – did they react better to an offer of gold, or to the offer of skilled help?

Location: Crossed Swords Inn & Tavern

Interacting With: A Plate of Food, Femnal

Keystone smiled an appreciative thanks for the food, simple though it was. Not that he regarded simple food negatively; one of the worst things one could do, in his opinion, was try to prepare a meal above one's ability. Besides, getting to know a particular item of epicure, and understand it for what it is (and what it is not) was infinitely easier when it was not overly spiced or smothered with gravy. Simple and honest tavern fare should never be something for which to apologize.

No, the only issue with this meal was the gesture of gratitude the large man gave when it was served. Unaccustomed to expressing himself in an outwardly manner, Keystone had been attempting recently to show some manner of emotion in his daily life that didn't involve anger. The main pitfall to his attempts to do so being that he had what scholars would one day refer to as "Anger Issues". A bubbling cauldron of seething rage simultaneously fueled him and made him wary of the safety of others in his presence; he recognized that his size and conditioning made his immediate vicinity perilous were he to ever drop the reins of his temper and allow it amok.

Yes, the errant pugilist's warm and pleasing smile looked more like an expression exposing the secret internal machinations of a disturbed sausage-grinder who'd just had certain congresses with the Mayor's wife and set fire to City Hall. Keystone needed more practice in front of a mirror, else he should merely be content with his own limitations thusly.

Keystone unslung his pack and set it down between himself and the bar, his right foot casually perched atop to deter the curious and/or dishonest. He produced a rather large bone-handled knife from the back of his belt, shiny and pristine as if it had never been used, and proceeded to have at the chunk of fine, roasted flesh in front of him with it. He always tried to use his own blade, if he could.

Midway through his meal, he acquired the attention of the Inn's proprietor, Femnal, and politely (as polite was possible for the man, anyway) inquired as to his establishment's services.

"Evening, little master. I'm grateful on the food n' ale, sir, and I'm wanting to get a room. And a bath. Definitely a bath. Big sudsy one." He paused for a moment, regarding the nature of this somewhat isolated, frontier town."P'raps you'd be as kind as to tell me a little 'bout the options?"

"Lucan," Persephone said to herself. "It's nice to meet you." She slid down into the seat across from him, draping one leg over the other beneath the table and taking a quick drink. She leaned back against the seat comfortably.

"It's curiosity, mostly," she said, cocking her head slightly sideways. "The celebration is from the result of the orc raid earlier. There's a bit of a war on, you know." The corner of her lips quirked up in a small smirk. "The fighting was rough, judging by the state of the wounded, but the raiders were driven off. Thus... celebration." She raised her glass briefly, and took another drink.

"I came for my work mostly, as a healer. Armed conflicts always need more. So far I've only been paid with ale and a bed, but the ale at least isn't so bad." She'd tried some truly disgusting swill in seedy taverns of Ravens Bluff and beyond, making this little establishment seem positively spectacular in comparison. "As for the bed, haven't tried that yet." If it was softer than the hard ground, it would be just fine.

"I'm curious about you, though. What brings you out to this little edge of the war zone?" She leaned forward slightly and propped her elbows on the table, sipping her drink while she watched the man, Lucan, and his charming smile.

Lucan's eyes followed Persephone as she moved to sit across from him, tapping his fingers idly against the mug rested in his left hand. He sat silent for a bit, listening as she spoke. "Well, living another day is as good a reason as any for celebration, I suppose." He raised his mug along with her, taking a drink in a sort of toast. Letting out a satisfied sigh as he wouldn't bother to savour this drink quite as long, he set it down gently.

Listening to her go on once more, he nodded every now and then to assure her he was listening, the same smile remaining on his face as he watched her quietly. As she addressed the ale, he took another drink, nodding his head as he looked over the drink in his hand momentarily. "You're not wrong, it's decent stuff - unfortunately I haven't managed to secure a bed yet myself." He shrugged his shoulders, leaning back in his seat. "Running low on coin, i'm afraid." In reality, he was doing just fine on coin, at least, he certainly had enough on his person to secure a room for the night.

Raising an eyebrow at her query, he figured it was inevitable. Resting his forearms on the table, he shrugged simply and allowed the right side of his lips to curl up into more of a smirk. "Nothing thrilling i'm afraid, or quite as noble as healing wounded soldiers." Her began simply, reaching up with his free hand to scratch at some of the stubble on his face, it'd been a few days since he'd been able to shave, and while it didn't look terrible, it was clear enough the man hadn't had a comfortable night for a while. "Just happened to be the next spot on the road, i'd have taken the longer way around, but I can handle myself well enough not to worry about the war zone." He figured it was best to avoid the exact reason for his presence in Salarn, but he hadn't exactly, or at least completely lied.

Sundos was tired and hungry. His journey from the capital to the frontier took him much longer than he expected. He was surprised how many times he was stopped and asked to perform simple rituals and blessings by the common people outside of the city. He has lost count of the number of gravesites he has consecrated. He has blessed a number of infants and babies. It seemed to him that many people in the rural areas have not seen a priest of Lathander for a long time. Many were happy to see him. When he stopped for a night, many of the commoners would come and approach him asking for blessings or prayers. He wondered why the local priests were not doing more to help the people.

Dusk has fallen, but Sundos knew he was close to a hamlet. Seeing the militiamen at the gates, Sundos dismounted. His armor was simple in design, but it was well oiled and cared for. His white surcoat has become dirty with the weeks of travel. He left his large shield and helmet hanging from the saddle was he led his brown horse towards the gates. ”Greetings, Brothers. May the Glory of Lathander always shine upon you. I am seeking the Hamlet of Salern. Is that close to here?”

The militiamen at the gates shifted uncomfortably as the armored warrior approached them from the darkness. They relaxed little when he started speaking. “Ain’t never heard of Salern. But this is SalArn. Did you come to help fight the orcs?”

Sundos was a little embarrassed he mispronounced the hamlet’s name. ”Yes, Brother. I was sent by the MorningLord Rockmor Brightheart to aide you in your war against the orcs and to assist the people anyway I can.” He was disappointed to see the blank look from the militiamen at the mention of Brightheart. ”Surely you have heard of MorningLord Brightheart.. The High Priest to the King… You have never heard of him? Well, no matter. Can you point me towards the Church of Lathander?”

The militiaman stood with his hands on his hips, “We ain’t got one of those. We have a Temple of the Yellow Rose. But they don’t look like your type of people. They ain’t DawnGreeters like you. Nah, the nearest DawnGreeter Church is at the Village of Caid, about two days ride that way.” He pointed vaguely off in the distance.

Sundos shifted uncomfortably, ”No Church? But I was told to meet the priest…” Sundos bit his lip as he looked around unsure of what to do. The Militiaman’s face soften. His children were the same age as Sundos. “Look, Son… I mean ‘Brother’, it’s late. Why don’t you head over to the Cross Swords. I’m sure you can rent a room for the night. Then in the morning, you can figure things out.

Sundos was comforted to have a plan at least. He mounted, Honor, his war horse. ”Thank you, Brothers. I shall. Everything always looks better at Dawn.” Turning back towards the Militiamen, Sundos tells them, ”Ware the darkness. But Fear not, Dawn shall be come again soon.”

Riding towards the Tavern, something caught Sundos’ eye as he passed an alley. He dismounted and slowly walked down the alley. There was a Dire Wolf and two girls down there!

Trying to speak in a calm voice, so as to not spook the wolf, Sundos said, ”Sisters, be not afraid. I can help you. Walk slowly and calmly towards me. I will protect you.” His empty left hand is out making a calming motion. His right hand holds his mace, held low against his leg. Sundos continues to slowly walk down the alley towards the sisters, ready to throw himself at the wolf if it should attack them.

Thelin had accepted his death three times over in just one moment. Not a wolf, but a dire wolf was staring at him, eyeing him like a meal and a not frail, but thin woman was on duty to control it? The only one capable of handling this beast was a skilled hunter, and even they wouldn't keep it as a pet! But oh, he was assured it wouldn't bite unless he harmed the girl or the wolf. Harm it? Was that possible?

Tyel perked awake from the noticeable shaking and flitted into the air and immediately to the Dire wolf's face, unafraid of a predator that had a stomach that would require a hundred hummingbirds to fill. Tyel flitted about the beast, examining it as he always did when awoken to a monster of sorts facing Thelin. He was a good scout, nobody bothered with him unless they were an orc or just plain mad, and he was fast enough to dodge most things that tried to swat him out of the sky. "Tyel. We need to-" he was cut off, but even so his voice was so low it was inaudible in the first place.

And then a fourth death happened in Thelin's mind. He, a woman and a dire wolf sat alone in this alley and a call came out, sounding like a holy man. ”Sisters, be not afraid. I can help you. Walk slowly and calmly towards me. I will protect you.” it said. Now as angry as Thelin was at being mistaken for a woman, he was more than happy to hear this voice. A death by embarrassment was better than a death by being eaten by a wolf. Thelin slowly walked backwards behind this well armored man and Tyel zipped around to follow.

"Thank whatever god it is you serve you're here!" Thelin shouted. He was never one for religion, mostly just sleeping through sermons. He knew of the power the paladins and clerics had, but that life wasn't for him. Too much armor, not enough magic. "I don't think it's a wild animal, not the way the woman spoke to it. That sentenced pained Thelin. 'Death to all wolves!' was what he wanted to say, but he couldn't justify killing a pet that honestly wasn't doing any harm... yet. If it had, a whole different story would be playing out, probably with Thelin being eaten after freezing with fear.

"By the way I'm a guy. Thelin almost forgot about the whole 'sister' situation.

---

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Season: Late Fall/Early Winter
Time Of Day: Dusk has fallen
Weather: The weather is still muggy and the clouds still roll through the sky, the temperature is dropping some now that the sun has fallen behind the horizon.
General Ambiance: Tense throughout the town but people are winding down and starting to find their way back in doors for the night. Within the Tavern it is all peaches and cream.
Location: Hamlet of Salarn in the region of Gorlf just south of the Orc Settlement of Yzewz
Setting: Salarn Currently

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Femnal took note of the big brute of a man attempting to get his attention and toddled over to the table, plopping himself down into a chair across from him; his chin barely coming over the top of said table. His eyes danced with mirth as he slapped his hand down n the worn wood, causing the rickety old furniture piece to rock slightly.

"Oh that I can young'un. All rooms be upstairs. There is a general room with multiple beds that is one copper a night, foot box at the end of each bed, no lock; for those who want a warm bed and dry head and don't mind company.

Now, if you be looking for something a bit more spiffy and by the sounds of it ye are, for a silver a night you be getting a private room with lock on door, bath provided but if ye be wanting such suds you be either handing over another copper on top of the silver or provide yer own bubbles," he said in a joyous voice.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring of keys, pulling one off and examining it a moment before holding it up. "This be one silver, can talk to your barmaid about the bubbles. Room 2F," he said and as he awaited an answer the man with the wide brimmed hat who had been called Cremwise rose from his place and began to wander through the tavern, making it no secret he was listening into the conversations going on about him.

---

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Kyra smirked as Thelin came over, Ash perking his ears slightly but resting down on his hind quarters as the little one bounced about. Shaking her head slightly she couldn't help but chuckle at the entire scene, Ash looked positively perplexed; if a dire wolf could give a what the fuck look he would have.

That was until another approached and quickly things turned a bit more menacing. Ash rose and paced around, stepping between Kyra and the new comer who had his weapon drawn. Kyra narrowed her eyes as with a quick movement of hand and flick of wrist her bow came unslung from her shoulder and an arrow became knocked into place.

"You best be putting that weapon away or it will be the tip of my arrow through your eye socket you will need to worry about and not Ashes jaws," she warned as she took aim, pulling the arrow back against the soft flesh of her cheek. Ash growling deeply as his teeth bared and he lowered himself as if to jump.

"Ash does not take kindly to those who come near me with a weapon," she stated obviously. "And like any animal, he is wild, just as much as you or I."

It was only a moment of silence before Kyra lowered her weapon and nudged Ash with her knee as she knelt down. The wolf licking her hand before glaring back towards the man with the weapon.

"Better get out of here tonight Ash," she said. Ashes eyes wouldn't leave the man until Kyra nudged him again. Another quick lick, this time to her cheek, then Ash was off into the shadows and out of sight. Kyra sighed slightly as she watched her friend go find somewhere to stay for the evening before looking back towards the one who caused Ashes fur to stand on end.

"You always draw on peaceful animals or are you just having a bad evening?" she quipped before looking back towards the little one. "As I said, I'm Kyra, and you are?"

Sundos looked down at Thelin and said, ”Oh my. I am sorry. Please excuse me Brother. The alley is dark and with your cloak… Please forgive me, Brother. I just…”

Sundos just stopped talking when Kyra’s bow came up, ready for action. ”Whoa, Whoa, Sister. I only come in peace.” He raised his left hand as he slowly places his mace back into his belt, where he normally carried it. Then he raised both hands, showing they were empty.

He stared at Thelin when he said that beast was domesticated. He wasn’t sure if he believed it or not. Too many have tricked him in these short weeks he’s been out of the Temple Complex. That was until the beast began to lick the lady’s hand.

Still standing with his raised, Sundos continued, ”I have only had bad experiences with such animals, Sister. I have had to protect myself and my friends from Dire Wolves more than once. I have treated too many wounds caused by them. I have never heard of them being domesticated. I feared for both of your safety. I did not mean to offend, hmm..any of you three.”

Sundos felt a liitle silly standing there with his hands still raised.

The young elvish woman walked through the muddy road, her skirt dragging mud with her despite all her best attempts at keeping it clean. She had traveled almost the entire day and still arrived late at the town of Salarn, just as Venus had predicted the three days before she had left Brindale. Natty even had to create a small light from her magic just to see ahead of herself, though it most certainly would have been announcing her position to all who would be watching. And, if the area in and around Salarn was anything like Venus had told her, there would most certainly be some kind of person watching for arrivals at the town. ”Oi, stop there traveler. What’s yer business here?” called an unseen voice from somewhere near the gate which Natty had been approaching. She had almost forgotten that there was a village up ahead when the man called out to her, almost surprising her enough to break the light spell.

”I’m here to deliver a message to a militiaman who is stationed here. I’m looking for a Korbin Samaria, his mother told me he would be stationed here.” Natashia told the voice even though it was only a half truth. Venus hadn’t sent Natty there to deliver a message to Korbin but did tell her that, if she passed that way, to tell him to she was worried about his health and make sure Korbin was eating. Natty waited nearly a full minute until the man’s remark finally arrived.

”Alright then, it is a likely story. Korbin’s at the Inn if yer wantin’ to find him tonight.” The guard called down from the gates as they slid open to allow Natty’s passage. She nodded at the men passing by and caught a glimpse of confusion on their faces as they watched her walk away. It was obvious that they were wondering why there was a tattoo on her back but it was nothing new to the woman who had faced such questioning looks many times over in other towns. Natty walked down the muddy streets and almost didn’t notice the group of people standing near an alleyway if she hadn’t noticed the dire wolf and man in armor. Such an odd place for a dire wolf to be but even the untrained eye of Natty could discern that the being no longer meant harm as it was being loved on by a lithe young woman with a bow.

”Looks like you dearies have been having quite the party haven’t you? Such and odd place to find a dire wolf and a man in full armor. My, not even the militia here are in armor of such quality unless it is patchwork my dear. Now then, how about we all go have a drink and talk? I’m sure it is much needed after this scare eh.” Natashia said after hearing the last of the man’s words. She was unsure if plying them with drink would calm everybody down but it would certainly loosen some of them up so as to discern their own reasons for being in the town. Even though Natty didn’t have a lot of coin on her, she would be able to provide a round or two for the group before running out. Though, Natty herself wasn’t willing to drink any since she certainly did not wish to have them ply her with questions and receive the proper answers which would have been given if Natty wasn’t drinking.

Location: Crossed Swords Inn & Tavern, Private Rooms (2F)

Interacting With: Femnal, Barmaid

Keystone had been on the road for quite a while. Walking, no less, not counting that time he hopped on the back of a feed-bearing farmer's wagon in exchange for moving a cow out of the road. The resulting overestimation of bovine durability ensured that both he and the farmer ate well for the next few days. Regrettably, he had to shell out coin to the herd animal's owner, but he was rather quick to settle monetary negotiations with a man who had barehanded a cow to unnatural demise.

Victory over beef aside, he wanted privacy and a bath. Definitely the bath.

The massive brawler slid a single gold coin across the table at the diminutive Innkeeper and accepted the key with a nod. "Let me know when that's out. I 'preciate."

He flagged down the serving lady that tended to his needs earlier with an eyelock and raised finger. "I'll be taking by happys upstairs then, Miss. Changed my mind about the suds, but if'n you could send up somethin' to sip in a bit, I'd be grateful. Something local, with a floral bouquet, what can peel the stink offa goat." His colorful underclass accent was certainly in sharp form that night, if nothing else.

Keystone shouldered his pack and tucked his knife away. With something akin to grace, he consolidated what remained of his supper onto a single plate and carried everything upstairs to his new lodgings.

It wasn't a grand vacation suite located in the heart of a great trade city, but it would suffice for his needs. With some caution, Keystone shut his door behind him and peered through the window's shutters. It gave him some bearing as to where his room was located overall in the building, but alas did not afford much of an outside view aside from what he saw coming into the Crossed Swords. Again, it would suffice.

The burly fighter noticed with some surprise that there was, in the adjacent room, a brass tub already mostly filled with steaming water, towels laid out, as if he was expected. He'd have to ask someone how this was managed later, but for now, Keystone seemed to recall a parable about a Gift Horse and where one shouldn't immediately look thereon.

Keystone wasted no further time in stashing his pack near the tub and stepping out of his grand leather coat, boots, and clothing. In quick moments, the traveling breaker of mens' skulls was settling into almost-too-hot water and scrubbing the rigors of analog translocation from himself.

From deep within his abdomen, a curious rumbling noise sounded, as if someone were playing a muted frame of fleshy bowling and had just picked up a lingering spare.

"Provide m'own bubbles, eh?" Keystone mentioned aloud to no one at all, "I don't think I'll be havin' a choice in the matter..."

"Fair enough," Persephone answered lightly, not pressing Lucan with any more questions. He had avoided answering her as to his reasons for being in town which, as she had told him, was a fair response. Seph was honest and forthcoming, but she did not expect everyone she met to be the same. Her worldly experiences taught her that people often had a great deal to hide, and it also taught her that not all of it was harmful.

Indeed, she had not told him the entirety of what she'd been doing in town, what she did in every town she visited of late, because it was a personal matter close to her heart, one that had little to do with the lives of these people. Her intentions in questioning Lucan had merely been to try to discern if meant any ill will towards the people of the town, whom Seph had a fairly good impression of. Of course, he would not likely tell a woman robed in white if his intentions were wicked. At least he had not lied to her. His omission of an answer would earn him a watchful eye, and no more.

Figuring she'd lingered on the subject of Lucan's activities long enough, Seph's eyes wandered to the man with the impressive hat wandering the floor of the tavern, not-so-subtly eavesdropping on anyone he saw fit. She had not yet had the chance to speak with him, nor did she know what he did around Salarn. It seemed an odd thing, though, to simply go around listening to conversations without involving himself.

"What do you make of that one?" she asked Lucan, lifting a finger from her mug to point briefly at the man. "The one with the rotund hat." She took a long drink of her ale, wondering why he wore such a thing indoors.

Thelin watched as the dire wolf walked into the darkness, not fading until it was out of the town. One of the perks of being a gnome was natural night vision, even if his vatange point was low enough that he couldn't see all too far. He let a sigh out and walked out from behind the cleric and walked up to the center of the two. "Well, I too have a personal disdain for wolf kind, the kind that can eat a gnome in one bite are a bit worse. He chuckled. His mood seemed to do a 180 now that the wolf was gone. "Now I think I could use a- Again a voice interrupted him. But he wasn't mad, as this one offered a Drink.

And with that, Thelin knew he was in love. Well, not with this girl no. He wasn't one for relationships, even the one night ones. He enjoyed the single life and his 50's were wild enough that he was ready to just explore before settling down. "Drinks are my favorite! And I don't know about you guys but I have no idea where anything is in this town. Those militia men outside weren't helpful at all. Had to sne- convince them to let me in the hard way. the gnome flexed his right arm and grabbed his bicep, or at least where a bicep was supposed to be. He let out a laugh as the hummingbird landed in his hood. Nobody, especially not a gnome, could look manly with a family of hummingbirds on his back.

The gnome did a quick look back to where the wolf disappeared to and confirmed it's disappearance. And it was in fact gone. Nice wolf it seemed, but still a wolf. Not exactly the greatest thing. Thelin looked to the ranger, then the Cleric and finally the woman asking if she could buy him a drink. I'll also take a drink from you, if you insist on treating me like a lady tonight, what was your name?" Thelin joked, poking more fun at the cleric who mistook his cloak for a feminine form. He had to crane his neck just to talk to all of these humans. He hoped he wouldn't have to get used to it but as his experience showed, most gnomes were back home and not out on the road where giant wolves could swallow them whole.