"You are surely rowdy today..." Rose mutters, rubbing her head. The god in her mind was always there, and always persistent. However, today he seemed to be much more obnoxious. It even irritated Muglin, her pet crow, causing him to peck at Rose's head. Not hard enough to draw blood, but it was certainly annoying.

Meditation was her morning ritual, due to its potent abilities to keep her mind focused, and shut out any unwanted voices. Today was no exception. There she was, sitting at the edge of a dock with her legs crossed. She had been watching a boat drift lazily through the ocean, eventually docking at Adarla's port. She briefly considered going over and greeting the crew, who were undoubtedly merchants bringing food. She shot the idea down, knowing that her lack of social skills would make the conversation awkward.

For all intents and purposes, she would forever be alone. Unless you count the rogue voice in her head, or the occasionally helpful crow. For now, she remained in meditation, focusing on the way her hair and scarfed gently swayed in the wind. Focusing on how the cold bit into her skin, a sensation she somehow found soothing. She focused on anything but the mental battle in her head, and the beak hitting her head.

The snow cracked and crunched under her feet with every step she took through the crowded city street, shifty eyes dancing about in the sockets of her head to and fro, scanning for a potential mark.

Gods damned this blasted city! She shivered a little, wrapping her elegant shawl a bit tighter around her, a gift from a particularly innebriated nobleman she lured into bed. Thankfully she spared herself the indecency of laying with the fat, drunken pig. Just her luck he was one of those fools who liked to be tied down.

What I wouldn't give for the heat of the desert sand... A cruel place it was, Ahkshriba, but what would be more cruel than freezing to death in this gods damned snow?

She sighed, her breath a thin mist caught in the biting, frigid air. The buzzing of the market rabble was incessant in her ears, her head pounding. Maybe killing a few tankards of ale was not the best way to celebrate her victory over that drunken fool.

Hmm...there has to be something in this market worth stealing. Blast! But nothing of the sort, just the ususl, dried meats and fish, produce that could hardly be called such... Not a single jeweler or antiques dealer to be seen. Perhaps she would just have to resort to picking pockets, but that lacked the flair and the fun the Black Rose had come to known.

"Eat their face," the voice in her head says in regards to the dockers at the ship. Rose simply shakes her head, rising to her feet and brushing herself off. Even with meditation, she could only handle so much alone time. She needed something to occupy her time.

As she walked along, she ignored the several odd stares she received from passerby. She could only imagine what they found strange about her. Her eyes, her pet crow, or maybe even her strange black armor and hood. Whatever the reason, she did her best to hide the dismay from showing on her face. Her wandering eventually brought her to the market, which sent the voice in her head into a frenzy.
"EAT THAT FOOD. KILL THAT VENDOR. SURRENDER."

Rose sighs, forcing the thoughts away. "That won't happen, and you know it." She takes Muglin off her shoulder to keep him from pecking her head more, instead placing him on her forearm and holding it out. He continued to try to peck at her head, but couldn't reach and instead looking ridiculous. She bites back another sigh, forcing back her frustration.

Buzdrem walked carefully through the marketplace, his eyes peering left and right at the plethora of folk around him. Without his thick armour on he felt more vulnerable than normal. But no one around here would mess with a dwarf, least of all one carrying four throwing axes on his back. Despite not having his tank armour on, he still wore leather armour, a hard lesson he learnt back home.
"The only time you don't wear armour is to bed and to bathe" his father would tell him. He made his way slowly and carefully through the crowd as many of the people of the market place were taller than him. He walked past a few stalls eyeing up the goods but deciding against parting with any coin. His destination was The Dock Inn, an aptly named public house on the dock. He could see the sign for The Dock Inn through the bodies of the crowd and quickened his pace. Buzdrem knew that there was work to be had if one was looking for it. If not, the served perfectly reasonable ale at a decent price there. He knew the owner as well, Hal was an old friend from a job he did a few years back. They were handsomely paid and Hal bought The Dock Inn with his share.

Dukhan stood uncomfortably straight, snow accumulating on his shoulders as an elderly woman tenderly showcased the produce she had on offer. He had been trying to find a polite excuse to leave for the better part of ten minutes now, as it was more than apparent that this woman did not have any of the information Dukhan was looking for. She beamed as she presented head after head of decaying cabbage, rambling about her granddaughter's fantastic woodcarving skills. Dukhan had already made up his mind that he would make a token purchase of an apple, one of the more palatable looking things for sale, as it was clear that this woman was less than financially well-to-do, but she wouldn't let him get in a word in edgewise!

As Dukhan struggled to pay attention, he spied a young woman in... armor? In the middle of a town? In this weather? Dukhan had to admit that his clothing was rather conspicuous, but nothing compared to this girl's. She was muttering to himself. Quite an odd one, to be sure, but odd folk often had stories to tell. Perhaps she could provide him with an idea of where to start his quest?

Before he had time to consider any further, the old woman removed a heretofore unseen crate of carrots and began showing them off one by one. Dukhan, overtaken by panic, sprung into action.

"Much as I'd love to continue chatting I think I see my... erhm... cousin! Yes, my cousin is over there and I'd like to speak with her! Now, here is a bit of gold for that delicious looking apple! Thank you very much for your time and... ahem... thoroughness."

Dukhan left a bit of gold on the counter (probably too much) and began to walk toward the odd woman.

@Avali

The market was trying her patience. The smell of food, an acrid scent to her now, the inane prattle of the vendors pushing their wares in her face. Finally she gave up and just decided to head for the nearest tavern. Her hangover was killing her, yes, but the best cure for alcohol was always more she thought.

"The Dock Inn", the sign above said. A shanty of sorts perched beside the ever rolling sea. Twas bound to be full of sailors and adventurers who were coming off the boats, maybe a few mercenaries who had traveled here to help out the cause. Rebellion, such a thing Ashana understood. Why would one just accept the yoke when man was meant to be free, unbridled and unattended? Ah, but she was not one for the politics of the royals. Leave that to them.

@EldarionI

But there was one thing the rebellion was good for. Opportunity.

The rebellion had brought in mercenaries from all over to fight for profit. Surely their pockets were fat with coin. Ah, the spoils of war, spoils Ashana could easily plunder off these drunken, lonely men with a just a wink and a smile. And of course...she could just slit their throats while they were...distracted.

First step into the bar, the smell hit her all at once, ale, cheap ale too, culminating with the crackling pine logs roasting in the hearth and the musk of the rowdy men as they drank and clanked their tankards, sharing many a bawdy joke or a sea shanty. Whenever the wenches strolled by them carrying drinks and roasted meats, a firm smack on the bottom they would receive.

The red haired woman glanced around. Certainly one of these fools had to be drunk off his arse she figured, an easy target.

Saga sat on a rickety chair in the far corner of the Dock Inn, downing a cup of the darkest beer he could get his hands on. His sword was still a bit bloody from his previous job, but he reasoned that a stop at the nearest tavern would help relax his senses. It almost did. As he sipped the last bitter drops from his mug, he reminisced the events of the past day.

Many boys dream of becoming knights, to don their shiny armor and smite the savages who dared oppose their liege. The boys with rich families were the ones who actually became knights. The others, too poor to realize their dream, become mercenaries. Saga knew both lives.

As a knight, you would most likely live a life of luxury, with servants attending your every need, and women knocking at your door to gain your favor. It was a highly political life, as “fellow” knights sought to best him at every turn, whether or not he saw them as his friend or not. Above all else, they were to abide by their code of honor, a chivalric duty that all knights were held up to scrutiny.

Of course, not all knights abided by this code. Saga remembered distinctly that abstinence was a key pillar of the code, and well, any fool with half a mind knew where that led to. Really, it was just a game of who could hide their sins better than others. Saga was one of the losers, and he remembered his loss all too well. It wasn’t lust for a whore that dishonored him, it was love. But they didn’t care. He nearly tipped his mug as he remembered her head rolling from the executioner’s block, ever so slowly.

Then there was the mercenary life. It was… quite different from the pampered lifestyle of the Vangardian Knight. You go to a client that requests your services, whether it be to bolster an army or protect him on his way to the shitter. After the job is done, you get paid. Easy. The pay wasn’t a mile from the pension he received as a knight, but he didn’t have to deal with political bullshit. There was no honor or chivalry among the wicked, and everyone knew and accepted it.

He finished another mug, and found himself thirsting for yet another.

“Hey Hal! Two coin for that ale you’re so bloody proud–”

@Flightless_Soul

His words cut short as a newcomer entered the inn. And my, did she scream beauty. And danger.

Her eyes scanned the tavern, looking for someone. She had a sly eye, like a cat waiting to pounce on a fat rat. She didn’t look as if she was from the area, as she stood out like a sparkling ruby atop a pile of granite. Her eye never landed on him, probably because he was in the darkest corner of the whole inn.

He knew women like her. Back when he was a knight, at least. They could swindle a man’s sword right out of it’s sheath, of course, depending on which sword you were talking about. He knew their games, how they found their targets. It was easy enough to get rid of them, however. All you needed to do was say, “No”. But naturally, that was the most difficult part.

But this one was stranger still. She might have a way with words, but he had a sneaking suspicion that she was in fact more deadly than she seemed. For now, he would watch, and wait.

Oh, you’re catching feelings again, Saga. I can feel it, you know.

Shut up, Seele.

@Roughdragon1

Ah, but who was this who caught her alluring stare?

From the common rabble easily Ashana pointed him out. A rugged sort of fellow, but despite his old and rusted armour he adorned, the grizzled look to his face, he had the makings of a man of chivalry, far from your common sellsword. Her lips curled into a pleasing smirk. He was bound to have plenty of coin upon him, and that sad look in his eyes as they met hers, twas a look that longed for a woman's gentle touch. Perfect...

She batted her eyelashes, slyly sauntering up to him. There was a cool touch to her skin as she moved. Ah yes, the dagger she had concealed beneath her dress...should the time arise she needed it. But for now, all she needed was her good looks and her silver tongue.

"I didn't expect to find a man of honor frequenting this place~" Ashana purred like a lithe panther, her rather predatory eyes scanning him up and down. He was indeed handsome, a sort of rugged charm most these men didn't have. "You must be lonely from your travels, Sir Knight. That look in your eyes tells me so. Would you mind if I...kept you company?"

Buzdrem entered the tavern through the old wooden door and worried he'd pull it off. The tavern was quite loud as usual, the regulars all drinking, talking and laughing. The smell of stale beer is the first scent that caught his nose, most taverns have it though.
"Hal, that door needs replacing, my friend," he said to the barkeep as he gestured his finger for one beer and sat at a stool at the bar. He downed half of the beer and sighed satisfactorily as he signalled he wanted another beer. He finished the beer in his hand as Hal returned with his second. They swapped tankards and a polite nod between the two of them occurred. Somewhat quenched of his thirst, Buzdrem scanned the room whilst sipping his fresh beer. He saw a few of the regulars and nodded a them as a gesture of greeting but a slight gleam caught his eye in the darker corner of the tavern, a man in full body armour no less. Buzdrem kept it in his mind to speak to him later, for at the moment he seemed quite drunk. The door creaked open and as it slammed shut, everyone turned around to see the new entrant. Everyone that is except Buzdrem. He learnt long ago that seeing everyone else first reaction to a newcomer could be easily missed but the newcomer would usually stay long than the reactions of those that saw them. He glanced quickly all around the room and from the looks of most of the men, and some of the women, a beautiful young women had entered the establishment. He cocked his head over his shoulder and his instincts were correct. A pretty little thing, but she reminded him of someone dear to him. A shame really. He took another sip of his beer and waited to see her would fall prey to her. As she walked through the tavern she noticed the man in armour and approached him,
"Poor tin man," he grumbled, smiling to himself at his little joke. He finished his second drink and called for Hal,
"Hal, when you're not busy I'll have another one and I'll pay my tab tonight, I've got plenty of silver and I'm sure I owe you enough!" He waited patiently for Hal, but in the corner of his eye, he was waiting for the reaction of the young girl who had just approached the 'tin man' as Buzdrem referred to him as.

Rose paused in front of a food vendor, scratching her head. As she spoke to the man running the cart, all she could hear was "Rip his face off and consume his flesh!"

She must have been giving him a funny look, due to the man questioning her on said funny look. "Oh! It's nothing, my apologies!" Rose puts her hood over head, walking away to hide her bright red face.

Why couldn't she act like a normal person? Was it so hard to ignore a simple voice in her head, annoying as it may be? The answer was yes, much as it pained her. Why did she bother associating with people, when she knew full well it would always end in ruin? She wasn't normal, nor was she fit to meet with the common folk. As she wallowed in her misery, once sentence echoed in her head.

@Flightless_Soul @EldarionI

Saga let a small grin escape. He had to play the part. If he showed his hand too soon, he was worried about what would happen next. Luckily, he was no stranger to these games.

There were two kinds of danger. The first was the direct, life-threatening kind. When you’re about to fight a man to the death, your heart races. Energy pumps through your veins, aching for you to make the first move; either ending the threat with a decisive strike, or forcing you to run and fight another day. In short, you know what confronts you, and you respond accordingly.

Then there was the second kind. To illustrate, imagine yourself in a snowy plain. As far as your eyes can see, there is nothing but white. As your boots crunch the snow and you sink thigh-deep into the cold, you feel something wriggling near your leg. You have no idea what it is, but you kick it away, just in case. Then, a few moments later, you feel more of the wriggling things around both your legs. They’re crawling up, through the holes in your clothes. You feel their scaly skin on your soft flesh.

This woman was the second kind. He wasn’t bad looking, not by a long shot, but a woman such as this could do much better than he. She was the type that princes and kings fawned over, and the type that queens secretly envied. The idea that she would bother with a disgraced knight was an alien one. No, she wanted something out of this. Also, a woman like her would never survive in a city. She'd be raped and killed as soon as she stepped through the gates. That is, unless there was a reason she had survived this long.

Just an idle thought, Saga, but maybe she’s after your gold?

True, he thought. That explains why she was here, with the commoners. An average man wouldn’t think twice if she were to try and seduce him. He’d fall into the snake’s spell as easily as a rat did. However, he was not an average man.

I’m so glad that I could be of use to this dull head of yours.

And this is why I hate the fact that you can read my thoughts.

Oh my, the things you wanted to do to that Oasian girl seventy-three days ago--

Shut up!

All of that happened in the blink of an eye. He had his plan. Now was the time to execute it.

Leaning back in his chair, he made sure to expose his coin purse, which visibly stretched from all the coin inside.

“Would I mind? From a woman like you? Can’t believe you’re actually asking me! Of course! But before we go, let me tell you a little story. Nothing lengthy, just a little misadventure I had with a friend of mine.”

He kept on, not letting her get a word in.

“Now this man, Varkas, he was quite the knight, you see. Handsome fellow, even more than me. On the field, no one could even scratch his armor. He plowed through hordes of Orcs, Dwarves, and Elves like he plowed through his women. The Elves, in particular, knew this. One day, he took in some elvish girl as his slave. It was after one of our raids, and he killed her parents some time during that. Of course, the fool he was, he decided to try and fuck her.”

He took a breath, letting it sink in. Then he continued. “He did. Then he had her go fetch him some ale. He drank it, and little did he know that only one of them would be walking out of his room that night.”

Saga paused, and suddenly leaned forward in his chair, glaring directly into her crimson eyes.

“You head for that door, or the only sword you’ll get this day is this one.”

He unsheathed his steel blade and jolted up from his chair, overturning the table and the empty tankards.

Buzdrem had been steadily drinking while the confrontation in the corner had occurred. With the thought of the women she looked like in his head, he turned to hear the commotion and immediately rose of his chair as the table was flipped by the 'Tin Man'. He pulled the two axes from the lower sheath of his back so that the handles of the two axes on his upper back sheath were still showing, meaning he means business. He approached the upturned table with intent and a ruthless look on his eyes.
"Excuse me, dear," he said to the young women.
"From the look of you I assume you don't need any protection from anyone but this tavern belongs to a friend of mine and if this tin idiot is going to wreck the place we're going to have a problem." Buzdrem now stood right next to the women with an axe in each hand, staring aggressively straight into the armoured mans eyes.

@Roughdragon1@EldarionI

Damn it all! She must have shown her hand too soon. Either that...or this bastard was of sharper wit than she assumed him to be. Her heart skipped a beat upon lieu of the table being flipped and a sword being drawn, hand instinctively reaching to her thigh, but alas, her hand she stayed. Though her eyes betrayed her sudden jolt of fear, firmly they remained affixed to his, eyes that smouldered with the embers of Hell. Her lips stayed in a charming smirk.

If he thought his cautionary tale and blustered threat would dissuade her, then a fool was he. Oh the many times she could count of a blade being drawn to her, a man's hand being upon her throat, or just simply elluding a roving band of marauders after swindling their leader. And this knight dared to threaten her.

A sultry giggle she issued, a daring grin. She leaned closer to him, a slender finger calmly nudging his sword aside. She gazed into his eyes deeply, a look of desire, nay...of hunger. "Oh my dear, you must have me mistaken, for truly I have no desire to harm you but to please you~" Her tone, sensual, yet it simmered with a hidden malevolence.

Albeit, the dwarf's mouthing of plenty of silver had her tempted, and for certain she was casting herself into the lion's maw, but she was close, so close to having her thorns in him. "For the right price, of course. Now then, my sweet, why don't you sheathe your blade? We go somewhere a bit more...private. Then perhaps...you could show me your other sword, hmm?"

---

"No need, little man." A soft smile to the dwarf. "He's just a little hot headed is all. None you worry."

"And before you took me to bed you promised we'd be wed!"

A woman ran through the town square, knocking anyone in her way to the side with a look of fury on her face.

"GO AWAY!" she screamed over her shoulder at the cloaked man, who chased after her while reciting from a large book of poetry. He leapt into a passing carriage and rolled his way out of the window without breaking his stride, keeping pace with the woman the whole way.

"You said you'd pay me if I read you poems! he yelled after her as she crashed into a fruit stand, sending apples all over the ground, all of which the man behind her managed to dodge successfully. The woman crashed to the ground, and the man crouched over her, book still in hand.

"What is your problem?! I'm not paying you anything!"

You could almost see the frown through the man's mask.

"Wow, okay, I give you some of my best material and you just snub me? I may be a charlatan but I have standards," he said, turning up his chin at the woman. "And pooh to you, you greedy hussy!"

Lorne closed the book and walked away from the woman, hand resting on his sword as he looked over the place. So many peasants in one place, it reminded him of his youth, those were good times.

He didn't see anyone that looked much like his daughter, so this trip was a bust so far, maybe he could ask around, he was new around this area. He noticed a confrontation going down through the window of a nearby tavern and was immediately intrigued. This could be interesting to listen to, he had forgotten how peasants spoke to each-other.

Lorne pulled a scroll from his back pocket and opened it while clearing his throat. He read it loudly and clearly;

"Uthinwe derslead."

The scroll turned to dust in his hands as he finished, but soon after he flickered out of view. Now invisible, he snuck into the tavern through a window, feet as soft as cat's paws, and approached the feuding group, standing only a few inches away from them as he ate a piece of bread, also turned invisible by the scroll.

Rose, for whatever reason, decided that strong drink was in order. When she was drunk, the ringing in her head was enough to ignore even the voice in her head. "If you get drunk again, fool, I'll have Muglin peck your eyes out!"

She ignored him, knowing full well that he had no control over Muglin. Technically, she didn't even have control over the bird. It could be up and gone in an instant, and she could do little more than watch. She often wondered why Muglin bothered staying with her. Maybe he found her plight amusing. Maybe he liked the fact that she fed him, or maybe he was just bored. Rose was convinced that Muglin was some form of higher being, something more powerful than a mere bird.

Eventually she stepped into the tavern, though the door had seemingly opened by itself. Either she was dreaming, or some magical shenanigans was afoot... She shook her head, dismissing the thought. It was probably just her mind playing tricks on her.

What she saw in the tavern didn't surprise her. Two men, seemingly fighting over a woman. This sort of scenario was nothing new around here. People always felt the need to assert dominance, though why in the tavern, she could never understand. Nonetheless, she leaned up against a back corner wall and watched, eager to see the show.

@Flightless_Soul @EldarionI

Oh great, now there’s a bloody Dwarf here. Tell me Seele, when were you planning on letting me know?

Sorry, I was looking at the woman.

Of course you were. I think she reached for a knife just then. Can you confirm that at least?

Though I don’t know if it was a knife, she did reach for something.

He turned his attention back to the woman.

“And you still go on and try. Also–” He brought his blade back, holding it near her throat.

“If you think a knife’s gonna kill me, you’re either stupid or an elf.”

Turning his gaze towards the dwarf but keeping his sword on the seductress, Saga felt a faint burst of vitriol. Dwarves were dangerous. If they had their toys. This one didn’t even have his armor.

“And you, dwarf. I’ve fought your kind before. Where’s your armor at? If you had it I might’ve given you a chance. I’m sure you’ve seen what a sword does to leather. But if you want a reminder, you can come over.”

Given the odds, Saga, your chances of winning this fight are small. And that’s if the other patrons don’t join in. Since the woman isn’t on your side, they’ll likely take hers.

Fuck them! If they want to die, let them come!

Saga saw his logic, however, and glared at every patron in the inn. “If you value your life, you better leave. Now. Lest this sword send you to an early grave.”

The sound of an exotic horn filled the breezy air around Aradia's harbor as a sizable vessel cruised into port, it's white sails decorated with a large gold star in it's center, an ancient sigil of power to those knowledgeable enough in foreign nations. As a small crowd gathered to watch this vessel aboard, a tall individual adorned with intricate golden armor stepped into view, sharp eyes scanning the faces along the port.

"Look at them, miserable, hungry bunch" Arathion muttered shaking his head in disappointment in the ugliness of the frost covered city he had just arrived in. The city of Aradia was sizable to it's credit though it lacked the elegant beauty and organization that all high elf cities had. Instead of paved, wide straight roads they had stumbled upon packed masses with the streets hardly resembling anything of organization and that was not even mentioning the dirty common folk, who shivered in the cold, their curiosity picking up on anything of note to help distract them from their reality. "My lord" A warrior of silver had stepped forward behind his prince and bowed "The representative has just arrived". The prince nodded and walked off his wooden ship where a representative of the Aradia crown awaited to greet the incoming prince.

"Lord Arathion" the representative bowed in the elf's presence. Arathion stood, tall and strong as he took another glance at the crowd, it was obvious they were not used to seeing royalty such as himself rather often. "I have provisions. Consider it a small token from my father, be sure to they are stored... properly" Arathion turned his attention back to the representative noblemen, his tone a bit dismissive though it probably due to Arathion privately being offended that he was not greeted by an actual individual of the royal hierarchy.

"The crown thanks you for your kindness though we must admit we were not ready for such a quick arrival"
"We had good wind." The elf replied.
Arathion turned slightly behind him and spoke a quick command in elvish to the small band of silver armored warriors behind him who bowed in reply and reported back to the ship, their orders clear even if they remained unknown to the rest of the crowd.
"I do not mean to be offensive Lord Arathion but when we asked for some assistance..." The prince cut off the representative immediately, his tone raising in a slightly harsher manner. "I have about a hundred fighting men with me already. Within a fortnight I expect around 3000 men. That should be enough to quell this insignificant rebellion"

"Only... 3000?" It was here the noblemen made his biggest mistake, questioning the fiery prince.
"Does the number insult you?" Arathion questioned as he took a step forward towards the noblemen, easily surpassing him in height, his eyes locked into his with a powerful intensity.
"Well no-o my lord" the representative stuttered and stammered in place as the prince expression remained sour.
"If you want my honest opinion good lord, I only arrived because I'm bored back at home and my father insists that our nations help each other though hunting down your rebels seems rather beneath me. To think your armies are spread so thin and under equipped that a bunch of rabble.." Arathion paused to break a brath as if to ensure he did not break his composure.
"This winter has been particularly harsh..."
"Enough excuses. Before long I'll send my agents out throughout your country so they can find your traitors and soon enough, they'll all be dead. Now if you will I would prefer to speak with your king now"

The noblemen accepting defeat lowered his head in shame having never been embarrassed as he was in this moment. With a quick wave, a small platoon of armored warriors emerged from the crowd and surrounded the pair to act as escorts. "Make way!" they shouted as the crowd either moved on it's own or was pushed aside to allow the elven prince to not only take a tour of the city but be escorted properly into Aradia's palace though it seemed a long walk through the crowded city was in order...

@Roughdragon1[@Eldarionl]

And so he persisted to throw off her charm. Ye Gods, she must have lost her touch or something. Either that or this infuriating fool probably favored a man's touch over a woman's. Ashana's run into those few before. As well, she had yet another blade pressed to her neck. How daft, to cause such a ruckus, and in full view of all.

But indeed, the odds were still in her favor. The knight was off limits, it seemed so, but the dwarf on the other hand, perhaps now would be a good time to meditate upon his offer.

Oh fortune be fickle! I should have known today would see my luck run out...and my patience wearing thin. I could just say to Hell with it and gut the bastard, but he does have a sword to my neck...and somehow he knows about my dagger. What is this fool's game? How is it possible he's leagues ahead of me?

Calm and composed she kept, given her dire straits. This man was brash but not foolish. Perchance even he knew starting a brawl in the tavern would be folly, just as much as Ashana knew cutting his purse and dashing away would only gain her a sword through the gullet.

Dammit all...

She frowned on the inside, admitting her defeat.

And so we must concede our little game of chess, my dearest. Well played, but you're the losing one. Maybe I would have given you my body willingly, yes? Ha! A fat chance of that happening."

She sighed, her head bowed.

"Very well, good sir. It appears by your...unruly behavior, you do not wish for my company. A shame though, my sweet. I could have given you everything you desire." Then, a coy smirk inched across her lips, her tone dripping with venom. "Although...I'm sure your other sword is probably a mere boot knife. You couldn't possibly give me what I want, not with that little todger of yours. So why bother with a tiny prick like you?"

A scoffing laughter as she turned from the knight, a waste of her time, but the day was not completely lost.

"You on the other hand, little man..." Her eyes fell upon the dwarf shortly after. That fat sack of silver would be hers. She gave him a look of sincerity, batting her crimson eyes at him. "Apologies for spurning your offer, but I did not wish to cause a stir. Ah, but perchance you know to treat a woman right, hmm? Perhaps even better than that hot-headed bastard."

A brief glare cast over her shoulder at the knight, then she resumed, gazing rather lustfully into the dwarven man's eyes, her voice, a heated whisper. "So what do you say, love? Would you care to spend some time alone with me? I'm sure a brave, strong dwarf such as you has had many a beautiful maiden, yes?"

"I surely can't blame them for fighting over her... She is rather beautiful," Rose mutters to her self, finger to her lip in a thoughtful manner.

"Beautiful enough to dismember her and watch her slowly bleed to death!" the voice within said, ever the optimist. Rose ignored it as usual, more so worried about how hot her cheeks felt. She didn't need to even speak with the other woman to be infatuated. Rose felt a certain urge -no, a longing- to go and speak with her. She instinctively pulls her scarf up to hide her bright red cheeks, but continued watching the woman. A longing was all she was going to feel, for she knew the woman wouldn't like her. For one, Rose looked like a child, no more than maybe 16. On top of that, she was so socially awkward, the most she could hope for was a laugh of pity from the others.

"If you just murder them all, then you don't need to worry about shame!"

COLD COLD COLD!!! GODS WHY IS IT SO COLD!
Ilium thought to herself as she traversed the cold town. She had no clue it was this cold up here, so the rumors were true... An endless winter. She clutched her cloak tight, a wolf's fur over her back and a satchel bag at her side next to her machete's handle, The jingle of jars inside. Her delivery of herbs from the far south wouldn't be for nothing. A promise of silver beyond any local gig... Maybe she can make some money up here and bring it back to her town to the south. The economy there would be more then happy with new income.

She saw the door to an inn and tavern, a perfect place to stop and warm up. Warm the outside with heat and fire, and inside with yummy ale. She opened the door and gave a loud sigh of pleasure without meaning too.

"Gods yes! Warmth!" She noticed her sigh of pleasure was semi moan like and realized the full room full of tension.
"Oops... Sorry..." She quietly took a seat and put her hood up to cover her face, now colored with slight embarrassment... Truly this weather made her act different then her native woods.