The Whirling Sprite was a brightly lit tavern with colorful wallpaper and flowery paintings. A heavy scent of lilacs and stuffy potpourris saturated the air. An Elven harpist strummed pretentiously at the foyer centered near the entrance. Koruk fought back the urge to burn this ghastly place into the ground. He turned to his lone wine glass and sought escape from his nauseously, dainty surroundings. The wine appeared light and bubbly, swathing about in some kind of lavender fructose. Koruk drained its contents and instantly regretted it. He spat the entirety of it back into his glass and growled.

"Ale!?" He called out. "Does this tavern possess such a normalcy?"

The condescension felt heavy as patron eyes burned lasers his direction. Koruk simply grunted. Where the hell is everyone? By everyone, the orc meant his fellow cohort and the anonymous client with a supposedly bountiful proposition, yet neither have yet to make an appearance.

"If this turns out to be some bumblin' prank then by Blacktongue's will, I'll send this giant fairy latrine to the under realm." Koruk randomly told the passing barmaid, who, confused, still shuddered at his words, then shuddered even more at the back-washed wine swathing in the glass in front of him.

"I'll see if I can get you some mud water out back." The barmaid passive-aggressively sighed, scooping up his glass.

"That would be an improvement." Koruk chortled.

Faith entered into the tavern. Well, clambered might be a better description, as she inelegantly stumbled through the door frame in her big bulky armor. She stood upright as she walked through the tavern, keeping careful to display her holy symbol to let everyone know she'd come in peace. Faith say at the bar next Koruk and motioned for the barmaid's attention.

"I'll take whatever you have that's strong when you get a chance," she said.

Faith was a sight for sore eyes. Upon spotting her in her bulky armor, he breathed a sigh of relief and immediately motion towards her as they reconvened at the bar.

"I'll take whatever you have that's strong when you get a chance," she said.

"Good luck with that." Koruk chimed in, snorting at the barmaid. "They've got nothin but cat piss on tap."

The orc's vulgarity and overall countenance was like a drastic contrast compared to the knightly Faith dawning a holy symbol to match. You'd likely see such a pairing on the battlefield with swords pointed at each others throats, not shoulder-to-shoulder at The Whirling Sprite. Patron's had already given Koruk the stink eye since his arrival, and it was becoming even more apparent with his associate by his side.

"So, partner. How goes it?" Koruk asked Faith.

"It goes well," Faith told him chuckling. "Any word from our contact? I'm looking forward to the next job."

She looked Koruk with a smile on her face. When she was a young girl, father Tomas, always told her sometimes the greatest friends were found in the most unusual of places. Surely, that could be no more than Koruk. Despite their less then stellar first meeting, Faith had grown quite of her compatriot.

((Are we going to go down the romance route at all?))