Elniss sat up with sat up with a start, her trained hazel eyes rapidly scanning her surroundings. There were no trees, was no lurking pursuer, and no muddy ground to falter her stride. She didn't feel terrified in this room as she had in the wood. What was the province titled? Drakenwood... Drakenw- Elniss dismissed the bothersome task of remembering names and observed the room.

The room was lit with luminescent candles, mounted on the wall. The wall was painted white and the floors were wood. She inspected her resting place, a well-framed bed, adorned by a comfortable fur blanket. She then felt the blanket fall from her shoulders, and she felt a cold draft on her bare skin. Elniss realized that she was only wearing her trousers and jerkin, but then noticed that her green coat was neatly folded on the nightstand and her brown leather boots sat atop the coat. She swung her legs from under the blanket, touching her feet to the wooden floor.

The Elf immediately drew back her right foot when a sharp, burning pain racked her shin. Ah! Elniss remembered the incident now. As a ramification of her many stumbles and faults, she'd caught her leg in a thick root and landed with awkward settling. The woman drew upon what strength she could muster and pulled herself to the end of the bed closest to the nightstand, and took hold of her boots. She dug and found her stockings in the toe of the boots. The were designed to keep her feet from harm against the leather of her boots.

Sliding into the stockings and then into the boots, Elniss stood, beseeching her left foot to bear a great deal of her weight. A smile touched her face when she glanced at a chair in the corner, upon which her bow and quiver were propped. The woman gave a small grimace of pain as she trudged toward the door. She turned the knob and stepped into the hallway.

"Ah, I see that our guest has awoken!" A voice to the right exclaimed, causing Elniss hand to jerk to her left hip where her quiver would normally reside. The voice belonged to an old man, and as Elniss saw his face, she lowered her head in respect. Such was her customary practice to people, never the less to a greybeard in general. "How do you fare, Master Elf?"

"I fare well, and I also offer my gratitude for your aid, sir." Elniss replied politely. "And it seems it is you to whom the title 'Master' should be endowed." She observed the man momentarily. His beard was white, but faint spots of peppered hair presented themselves.

"I shall disagree, but should we argue to this matter, we shall bore the flies from the inn." He nodded his head in a formal greeting. "I am Lazarus, owner of the Hallows Inn."

"Well met Lazarus, I am Elniss, daughter of Grae, and former serf to the lord Rayund."

Having made his way back into the inn and spending a few minutes in the warmth, Barden found himself retiring to his room for another brief respite. Not for rest, more so just recuperation. It was all too strange the ranger thought as he relieved himself of the jerkin he wore, leaving him now in the fine linen shirt of Elvish design, trousers and soft-leather boots. Running his hands along his brow he sighed softly, thinking about it now, perhaps he should have taken up the maids offer to run him a bath because looking at the thing, he didn't have the faintest idea how to run it. Dismissing the idea after a quick debate with his thoughts, he took up his sheathed sword and belted it to his waist, also picking up his unstrung bow in his right hand. During the commotion he'd lost the bowstring, probably to the forest and he knew that there was no way he would find it in there, let alone his own way back to this safe-haven. The ranger decided his best bet was to see if the inn (or anyone in it) had one for sale, another option was to barter with one of the many other bow-wielders he'd seen upon entering the inn. The ranger was not sure if any would have a string suitable for his bow, but, perhaps an Elf would know.

Exiting his room in no rush the first thing to greet him was the sound of conversation winding from down the hall. [/i]"How do you fare, Master Elf?"[/i] Barden leaned his back into the door frame of his room and smirked, "Perfect..." He whispered to himself. He had been looking for an Elf and here opportunity presented itself.

Closing his door, quietly behind him (so as not to disturb other patrons), Barden made his way down the corridor and presented himself.

"Ah, Innkeeper..." Barden spoke with a polite tone, "Lazarus, isn't it?" He asked with a nod of gratitude, "And she-elf." He added, turning to show notice of the other. "I noticed as I was going through my belongings that I misplaced the string for my bow." He mentioned, presenting the bow of Elvish design towards the two, because of it's design and of where it was from (Blackwood, an Elvish territory given it's name by the trees that grew there, from another land seperated by sea), he was expecting questions to be raised about how he obtained it. "Probably in the forest somewhere." Barden paused and turned his gaze to the she-elf, another wanderer he assumed with a similar experience. A small smile cracked along his lips, "And I doubt I'm going to find it there, let alone my way back to this place." Barden held the bow further towards the two, "Please, if you can be of any assistance, you'd have me in your debt, and my thanks."

Elniss glanced over the man; bestowing him with the gift of being analyzed by a female. He was large, outsizing
her by a fair median. She noted that he was muscular, however, she then noted the she was not. Her cheeks burned a dull red, and she came to the definite conclusion that he would down her in a fight with ease. She rapidly glanced between the man and Lazarus. The elder was kind, wise, and a respectable greybeard, but this stranger seemed intimidating and dangerous.

The question then arose in her mind; how had a man of unmistakable human-upbringing(Seeing that he'd greeted her with the term "She-elf") managed to grip his hands around a bow of Elvish make. Her thoughts snapped to the present, and she nodded. Why would this man be a threat? Elniss decided that she would help him. "I... I do believe that I have string... F-from Elvish fletchers of course." She muttered timidly. Silently she reprimanded herself for being so weakly spoken. She turned and went into her room, heavily aware of the limp that oppressed her right leg.

Elniss strode to the chair and picked up the quiver. There were only ten arrows in it, but that was what she normally toted. She slid her hands in past the arrows, careful to avoid the jagged edges of the tips. She felt around until her fingers caressed the fine length of cord. She removed it from the quiver and set the arrows beside their bow. "I-I assume you a familiar with the stringing of a bow, no?"

While the she-elf had gone to her room to fetch a bowstring, which of course, Barden was grateful for, the ranger engaged himself in conversation with the innkeeper. Barden had many questions he wanted to ask Lazarus, however, he imagined he would not get too many answers. That is, at least not to the questions that troubled him most.

"How did this place come to be?" He asked, keeping eye-contact with the innkeeper. Despite his appearance, there was a sense of authority and almost majesty to Lazarus, it was something to be respected. Lazarus was silent for a moment, leading Barden to think he was not going to receive an answer at all. The innkeeper's lips parted, he took a breath and then placed a smile upon his face and began to answer.

"I found it, a very long time ago." He paused, "I was once a wanderer like yourself, lost in the depths of the forest. Long story short, when I emerged into this clearing, the building was here, decrepit and ruined. I dedicated my life to making this place a safe haven for people who had been lost like myself." The innkeeper took another brief pause and then placed his hand on Barden's shoulder, "Many faces have passed through this place, some for a brief while, others for longer. Some have even left and returned. There have been heroes, even kings brought and made in this place. I will not lie to you." Lazarus let his hand slip from the ranger's shoulder, back down to his side. "There is no doubt in my mind, that there is something magical about this place." Barden's face had a quizzical look cross his features, "All timid, naturally." The innkeeper assured him, putting the ranger's mind to rest.

"I-I assume you a familiar with the stringing of a bow, no?"

Barden turned to face the she-elf, taking the string from her as she handed it to him, he nodded his head with gratitude and smiled, "Yes, I wouldn't be much of a ranger if I did not" Holding the bow and the bow-string in one hand, Barden was satisfied that should he need it, he would at least be able to use his bow. "You've done me a great favor, and I do not even know your name..." The ranger spoke to the she-elf directly now, "I'm Barden."

It was all blurry, why does it have to be all blurry? Why did his eyes have to put some kind of artistic skew on the repetitive and gloomy forest? Did they get bored? Leopold's idle musings were something that he had tried to keep himself sane with. Quips against the various pains and aches as if they were spoiled children somehow made him feel a little better about his situation. That is, until the forest finds another reason for him to become bitter, such as the inconsequential light-brown shape that quickly turned into a tree root as his sluggish feet tripped over it. Leo opened his eyes angrily while lying prone. He was convinced that this was the epicentre of everything in the world that was out to get him at this point.

The symptom of the day was dehydration. He'd been lucky enough to find a clear stream several days ago, but the one he found this morning had obviously been still for too long, and had something in it which his stomach rejected. For the entire rest of the day his coordination was suffering and his eyes remained unfocussed. It didn't help that he hadn't anything to eat for an even longer time. Foraging was proving as successful as finding a way out of this hellhole. He could barely bother hunting. He tried to get up and winced as weight was put on his left arm. He couldn't let the wound open again, not with how little water he had. If he lost any more blood, he would faint and might not wake up.

How many days has it been? Leopold tried to remember in vain as he continued on. If only he could find some game to shoot, some water to drink, he could regain his energies and properly heal his wound. The only thing he could manage in this state was a spell that kept it from festering and a few dirty sutures, but it would take something stronger to disinfect it properly. "A spirit. A spirit to drink after pouring some on my wound..." he grumbled through a dry throat, "why the hell aren't there more inns in the for-"

Leopold halted in his tracks, his mouth open slightly. He had a look about him of utter disbelief. "No... Surely not." A short distance ahead, as if by some cruel trick, Leo spotted a large building in the distance. The sign out the front indicated that it was an inn. An inn, in a clearing, in the middle of a cursed forest. Leo was certain that the lack of water and food had finally got to his brain. He took one step, then another, then another, until he began to walk with a purpose again. He no longer cared that it was probably a trick of the mind. If he was going to give up all hope, he would give up what hope he had fabricated in his dying moments. As he got faster, his arm began to hurt again, he held it to his chest as he strode. He could notice his breathing becoming more tired and desperate. He was so lost in it that he broke into a jog as his second and final wind came over him. He was angry that it would come to his. He was furious that he was going to die starved and lost. After how far he had gone, he wanted to look the grim reaper in the face and punch his bony jaw off for the lack of justice in the world.

The jog quickened into a stumbling run when he reached the clearing. The staff was more weight than needed, he threw it down onto the path. Snarling and gnashing his teeth, he felt his wound start to bleed again. He was close to the door of the inn now, its details blurred around him, if being a little clearer right in the centre of his vision. He burst through the door, it felt so real that he could feel the cool of the doorknob, the hardness of the wood. The door gave way to the scent of home, of cooking, of stale drink and smoke. Fuzzy outlines of people beheld him, but he wasn't bothered. He spotted a bar and stomped towards it. He could hear pattering of blood dripping on the floor as he marched with bared teeth. One of the people was in his way, with his right hand he shoved the stranger to one side and proceeded to the bar. Slamming his palm onto the bar top, Leo's eyes darted around with his head angled forward and his back slouched, he was still breathing and bleeding heavily. The black dried blood that had soaked into his shirt was being revitalised with new blood. "A spirit! I need a spirit!" he shouted between breaths, "Any other bar... would be more forthcoming... when a man... has a wound to disinfect!"

It was then the Leo felt a stinging on his hand where he had hit it against the bar top. He raised it and looked at it as it throbbed with pain. This place was real... this place...

Leo's legs gave out from under him and he collapsed. Barely conscious, he stared up at the ceiling. Perhaps his mind wouldn't let him die without hope. With a sense of peace, his world turned spun and turned black.

Moments passed. A sharp pain ran through Leo's arm. In response, he scrunched his eyes and yelped in pain. Too weak to react further, he slowly opened his eyes and tried to regain his faculties. He still felt delirious, the hallucination of the inn wasn't helping at all. They seemed to have propped him onto a table, judging by the ceiling being closer and the texture of the surface he lay on. His wounded left arm felt cold. He lolled his head to one side and saw a greying dwarf man dabbing at it with a red-stained cloth. In the dwarf's other hand, he held a green bottle of what Leo could only assume to be an alcoholic spirit, though it might have been a potion of healing liquid if he was lucky. As the man noticed him wake, he put down the bottle and grabbed a water skin from nearby. Awkwardly, he held it to Leo's mouth to try and get him to drink. Leo, too tired to be annoyed at the dwarf's inability to understand how he would drink with a dog's head, forced his good arm up to grab the nozzle of the water skin and poured the contents into his mouth. It was clean, heavenly water. He didn't think he would ever taste something so wonderful again in his life. This hallucination was indeed forgiving. He drank so fast that he ended up coughing a small amount, spilling water either side of his face and aggravating his wound with the movement.

As the cool water wet his throat, Leo's senses started to come back to him. He found the strength to raise his head enough to get a better look at his arm. The dwarf was probably just in the process of cleaning it when he awoke, not much time had passed. Leo handed the water skin back, but did not let go when the man reached to take it. "You... listen..." Leo mumbled, "Put your blasted poker in the fireplace I see over there." Leo nodded his head towards the fireplace down his vision at the end of the room, "... once it's been there for... oh, you're cleaning my wound already, you should know what to do... burn the wound closed! Both sides. I can't..." Leo stopped to swallow, "I can't bleed for much longer..."

The room was quaint feeling, to say the least. Everything was wood or cloth and it smelled of oaks and pines and ash, the smell of a forest fire. Feeling around, Seda discovered that some of the furniture was engraved with intricate patterns, feeling smooth then rough under her slender hands. An image of elves and dryads and other fae entered her mind, carving their designs into the wood with fixed concentration and utter beauty forming at their fingertips. The bed was the largest piece in the room and Seda was sure to use it as soon as the room was unlocked for her. Stripping down to merely a ragged cloth undershirt and shorts took a mere second, and then she was under the soft covers and forcing her mind to shut down and unwind. To forget about her horrible experience and to just be thankful that she was alive.

The nap she took lasted for a few minutes, sadly, as her body was too giddy to lay so still for any longer and with slight annoyance she sat up and kicked the covers off. Seda slowly pulled her legs up to her chin, hugging her knees as she began to plot. Now, this Inn was in the middle of the open area just outside. She had been brought up a spiral staircase to the second floor, and her room was ten steps away from that staircase. The hall had been somewhat narrow but not claustrophobic, her shoulders didn't touch the walls at all, and the doorway to this room was as big as a doorway usually was. The floor underneath her feet was wooden, planks perhaps, with little grooves where her toes would get caught at times. If memory served, the staircase would probably go up to another floor, and then on the first floor she had the distinct feeling that there was a whole other room. Exploring wouldn't be a bad way to spend her time. Getting a feel for the land was always a good idea, especially for someone like Seda. With her idea in mind, Seda grinned and slipped onto the floor, feeling around for the outfit that had been laid out for her. While the usual black and purple outfit sat beside her bed in a pile, it was too messy and ripped to wear comfortably. Hopefully the lovely Rosalinda would find the pile and repair it. With swift hands, Seda finally found the soft fabric of a tunic. Something was embroidered around the neck line, and it was floor length much to her distress. A long tunic, a basic dress. Dresses were hard to walk in. With a soft sight she pulled the outfit over her head, shivering a bit as the fabric passed down her knees and pooled around her feet in a silky wave.

"Easily fixed." her mouth reminded her mind, and she lifted the dress up just a bit to wander back over to the other clothes. After a bit of digging, she eventually pulled out a black belt and a thin black rope. With slight trouble, she hitched up the dress until she felt air on her right knee. The fabric was then bunched and tied with the rope until it was a tight knot. The knot sagged after she released it, and was then caught under and held in place by the belt. The mend was rather risque, giving the gown an asymmetrical feel as one side was held up to show off her right leg while it slowly slanted down to simply show of her left ankle and foot. Looks didn't matter to a blind person, though, only usefulness. Her legs were free now, her mind calmed with the knowledge that tripping on the hem of her gown or getting caught by twigs or ledges was long gone. Time to explore.

With a small tug, the door opened up in front of her. Warmer air swelled and entered the room, coming from where the stairwell was. With a small shrug, Seda closed the door and tapped forward with her walking staff, bare-feet smacking against the wood floor, counting her steps until she found the spiral staircase. Up or down first? Seda's blind gaze stared straight ahead as her head tilted, ears trying to pick out where the noise was coming from. Downstairs was rowdy, upstairs was quiet. Perhaps the floor above was just another hall full of rooms? With draining curiosity, she decided to go upstairs first, sniffing around. The same smokey, woody smell. The same corridor. Just a copy of the floor below. Every door was locked, Seda made sure to check (despite knowing she might interrupt some people if the rooms were taken), and with a final though of 'What a waste of time. she descended to the first floor.

There were people in the lobby, she realized, once her body was fully surrounded by the chit-chat of the entrance way. Her hand reached up to push her hair back behind her ear and straightened, holding the walking staff to her side like a mage or wizard would, trying to seem less blind as to not attract attention. To the right, Seda discovered that she could smell alcohol and food. Though she was not particularly hungry, curiosity drew her towards the smell. With a proud stride, she pushed through the lobby, under an archway, into a much bigger feeling room. A heavenly aroma wafted from the left side, and warmth pulsated from the right. A fireplace or large windows were the cause, perhaps. It had the atmosphere of a pub. She felt no eyes on her, and wondered briefly if the room was empty. Hanging around her wouldn't be so bad; she could soak up the warmth in silence without going outside. With small steps she eventually found a table closest to a window and got comfortable, leaning her walking stick against the wall behind her. She was alone, quiet, bored, and hoping, just a bit, that someone would strike up a conversation.

"I want his head on a pike!" Pasha Kylar shouted at his grunts. "That stubby-fingered bastard lifted my cloak last night whilst I slept! The first one to bring me his head will be handsomely rewarded." All of the eyes in the crowd gleamed with anticipation; all of them except for one. Caelyn had been the closest thing to family that Tomas had ever known. Now he was charged with bringing in his head. The two of them went back all the way to their days in the orphanage. "Ah, the orphanage..." Tomas wiped a tear from his eyes.
Caelyn was always the pasha's favorite, but with that favoritism came extreme criticism. Tomas recalled a time when the pasha paid very heavily for some intel on very large score. He sent Caelyn of course, and when one of the lackeys that accompanied them got caught, Caelyn rushed in to help. He got everyone out alive, however the guards arrived and they had to pull out. Instead of blaming the grunt for the error, Caelyn took blame. He knew that if Kylar found out that a grunt cost him this big of a score, he'd never allow him to live. Caelyn knew the only chance of anyone getting out alive was to own up to the error. Caelyn did manage to save everyone's lives, but the trade off could not have possibly been worth it. This was some lowly pickpocket, and the center of Kylar's retribution was the orphanage.
To her defense, the madre did not scream as he ordered her whipped. "I'm going to take all the money that you cost me out of her hide!" She just gunted with each.... Ah, that's enough dwelling in the past. "Are you going to just stand there? Or are you going to do what I have asked?!" "Oh, sorry boss was just lost in thought for a moment." Tomas said. "Well if you don't get going, thought won't be the only thing you'll be getting lost in!" "Uh, yes sir!"
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Arrows flew over head as Caelyn ducked down an alley. "Phew that one almost got me head! Seems a bit overdramatic for a durned cape." Caelyn shook his head. "What have I gone and done this time? Oh well, serves that dolt right for killing me madre. He's gotten too ruthless for his own good, and he thinks he's immortal. No wonder he's so upset, someone actually got the best of him." If I can get out here alive, Caelyn thought to himself. Ahead of him was a wall. He summoned what energy he had left in attempt to scale it. He felt his legs pumping and as he got to it he jumped with all his might. To anyone watching, it would have looked as though he kept running, but to Caelyn it felt as if he was flying through the air. Luckily, the wall was made of this soft substance known as wood. And unfortunately for the wood, Caelyn was made of a tough substance known as dwarf. In an intense clash of will, the dwarf was victorious and punched out a huge hole in the wall. Coming into a roll, Caelyn sprang back to his feet. All those years of cat-burgling did have its advantages.
He kept running until he put what he thought was a sufficient distance between him and any of his other pursuers. "Nice job you did on that wall back there." an all too familiar voice called. "Aye, did you see the air I got on that jump?!" Caelyn replied with a hearty chuckle. "You know why I am here Caelyn." Tomas stated. "Aye that I do, and what might ye be thinking o'doin 'bout it?" "I can not betray him Caelyn, he will surely kill me if I do." "Come with me, and we can both start out fresh!" Caelyn pleaded. "Caelyn we both know that we have seen too many awful things to be given a new start. I think my stars have already been plotted for me brother, and I intend to stay alive."
Caelyn squinted the tears from his eyes, then wrapped himself up in the cape, and vanished!? He saw Tomas looking around in panic, and Caelyn wasn't about to miss this opportunity. He bull rushed Tomas, and the moment he made contact with Tomas it was as if he re-appeared. Quickly, Caelyn drew one of his hatchets and smacked Tomas in the back of the head with the flat of the blade. "Aye brother I intend to keep ye alive, too."
Sprinting on, Caelyn soon became exhausted, dwarves don't do well running quickly after all. He pushed himself to his physical limit, actually too hard. Caelyn's vision became blurred and then everything went black.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

When he came to there was more black? It must have been night. "How long have i been out?" Caelyn spoke aloud. Although he soon realized there was no one around to hear him. A quick scan of his surroundings and Caelyn understood that he was not where he rememebered last. Instead he was in a thick moss-covered muck of a forest. So thick that the smell of nature almost offended his Dwarven senses. "Bah! I'd rather be smelling a donkey's backside than this!" It was like the air was toxic, like too much of a good thing can be bad. "I'm sure this would tickle an elf's fancy, all these trees for them to hug and what not." Caelyn laughed to himself.
Unfortunately, for Caelyn that would be the last time he laughed, because he soon realized there was no quick or easy way out of this horrendous forest. Thorns clawed at his body often ripping everything on him, except for the cloak. "This durned cloak, this is the whole reason I am in this mess." In a fit of anger, Caelyn snatched the cloak off of his back and tried to rip it. With all his dwarven might, he couldn't even pop a stitch. "Bah! Stupid son of a jackal's monkey's ugly cousin!"
Days led to what seemed like weeks, and possibly a month. He cursed and prodded and kept pushing. His physical body was beyond exhausted and his mental body was almost nothing. He knelt and he prayed. His madre used to tell him, "Sometimes the only way we can be found, is if we completely let go." So there in that damp damned forest, Caelyn confessed any kind of wrong act he had done going all the way back to when he met the Pasha. He had amazed Caelyn with some simple prestidigitation. An easy sleight of hand that he could do in his sleep now. He hadn't realized that he closed his eyes. But when he had opened them, he saw a light? "Ah durn! I guess me prayers were heard. Sure is a small light for me end." He soon realized there was more to the light. There was some kind of house in the middle of a field? "What the..." Not taking time to question it anymore, Caelyn slowly rose to his feet and pushed on, thankful for his madre's inspiring words. He knew now that their was a second chance for him in this place, and he intended to make the best of it... As he saw all the humans and humanoids gathered around, He knew this is going to be interesting. With a smirk on his dried out chapped lips, he mustered his energy and shouted a hearty "Hello!"

The hall Tala found herself in was empty, but if the ruckus she was hearing was any evidence, this place was actually full of people. The girl thought she must have entered through the back, judging by the absence of a counter or reception of any sort. It was just as well. Tala didn't enjoy company too much. Back in the city, she only ever talked with a few trusted friends and her teachers in the guild. It was all she needed, but after spending over a week alone in the cursed forest, she was glad to finally find a living soul. With small and silent steps, she started checking out the place.

The things she took notice off would have probably eluded other people. A clock running late. The door hinges creaking. A bad plank in the floor. But to the alchemist, greasing a hinge was of the same importance as a view from a window to a commoner. Tala's thoughts were interrupted by her growling stomach, but if her nose was not mistake, food was not far, if she could afford it. Setting her sachtel down, she carefully opened it, careful not to break a tiny white pouch attached to the lock. She had put it in there after the first time somebody tried to pickpocket her. The next one to try was left wishing he shoved his hand into a latrine instead, as the small pouch contained a charge of very potent itching powder that would break if anyone tried to open the lock the normal way.

Rummaging through her possessions, she moved aside the vials with liquids of all colors to get to her money and smiled. Tala didn't bring much, but it would be enough to stay here for a few nights if she couldn't find a way to earn more in the meantime. Putting a few coins into her pocket, she closed the bag and let her nose guide her to the kitchen. She was greeted by a maid and asked for some food, offering her a vial of the same rose scent she was using. Tala was surprised when she was told the Inn didn't want payment for the food or the rooms, but seeing how the maid liked it, she gave her the vial anyway. Picking up her food, she looked around the room. There was only one other person there, a woman about her age as far as she could tell, wearing a dress a few sizes too big. Shuffling closer, she noticed something off, seeing the staff and absent look in her eyes, but couldn't put her finger of what it was. "Um, hello. Would you mind if I sat here?" she pipped shyly.

He had nearly fallen out of his chair at the sound of someone slamming their hand down on the bar top. When his bleary eyes had opened what he saw that more people (or people-like entities) had found their ways into the inn and Talon had managed to simply doze off before ever getting his food. To his extreme delight, someone had placed a plate of food in front of him. It could have been anything, it wouldn’t have mattered to him, and he would have devoured it all just the same but it was very good. Maybe it was just several subsequent days of hunger but it had tasted like the best food he’d had in his life. He had eaten it all like a man who hadn’t eaten in days, mostly because he was, and sat back on his ragged flesh with a satisfied sigh. He had been so busy filling his belly that he didn’t notice the man soaked in blood and requesting, or rather demanding, his wounds seared shut. He also hadn’t noticed the pair of women, one sitting and one standing, at a table just a scant few feet from him. It was hard for him but perhaps not as hard as it was for other men to make a decision between the two but it had to be done.

And he wanted to do it.

He fought back the new type of nausea, one from eating too fast after nothing eating nothing but spit for days, and walked his way to the bar. This is around the time that he had actually taken a GOOD look at the “man” that had wanted such a grizzly form of medical care. Maybe Talon would have had more time to really wrap his mind around seeing the man-dog person before him but as he approached he could tell that what the man had asked for was an absolute necessity. The… man, had more blood on him then Talon had thought most people could rightfully contain and one of his arms was severely wounded.

“Mind if I cut in?”

He had already grabbed the poker on the way over because the man’s wounds looked bad from even where he sat but he was cursing himself for not rushing over with it when the severity of the wounds had become so obvious to him. He hadn’t quite had the time to get it red hot before he had snatched it up but the black of the over burned metal had begun to orange ever so slightly and there was no doubt in his mind that improvised medical tool would do as it was so briskly requested. When he had brought the up, or all to see, he couldn’t help but smile because there was a man he knew amongst the recruits, a man he didn’t quite care for, that had to have his wounds cauterized many months before. The man had been years older then Talon and screamed in a pitch that a woman would have been hard-pressed to have matched. Unfortunately, for this man, it was going to be a VERY unpleasant experience and that was something talon didn’t wish on even his enemies…. Not that he had any.

“This is going to be very unpleasant for you, sir. I apologize….”

With that he rose the poker to the wound, nodded solemnly at the dwarf and began working the angry iron through the furrows of the fresh wound. For having scores of cuts across his body and still many hours off of being rested, he thought he was working the iron much better then he thought he could. It was over for Talon a lot sooner then it had probably seemed so for the man whose flesh was searing and crackling against the fresh iron. He pulled the smoking poker away from the man and walked it back to the fire without adding anymore words to the air between the three men and returned to the bar to make sure that more good had been done then bad. The few moments of fresh air he was able to breathe while stowing the poker allowed him to really take in the searing flesh small that was perfuming the bar when he took his seat. It turned his stomach, almost too hard, and he had to take several deep breaths before he felt even remotely steady again.

Let’s not do that again…

"And it was all because of you!"

The slap sent a tingling wave of heat up across Adrian's face, causing him to forget everything he was going to say to comfort her. He could only sit there silently, staring at the ground in complete shock. Suddenly a flash of anger appeared in his deep eyes, and he turned to glare at her, upper lip raised in a snarl. For a long moment, Adrian had become blinded by the darkness of his own humility, fists clenched tightly to keep himself from reaching out at her, heart thumping and his temperature rising, but as he slowly raised a hand to slide the hair that had gotten strewn haphazardly across his face back into place, the half-orc breathed a deep sigh and closed his eyes, trying to control himself. He couldn't hurt her. He couldn't hurt Rosalinda--or any woman for that matter--no matter what she'd done to him. He knew he'd willingly sit there and watch her carve his own heart out with a dull knife, painfully, slowly, but he would not lift a finger to her. Never could Adrian do such a thing.

He was brought back to his senses as she threw the note and it fell into his lap. With steady eyes, he watched her, listening to every struggled word she spoke. Almost cautiously, Adrian looked down at the note, then picked it up and unfolded it. "What did I ever do to you!?" Rosalinda questioned as he began to read it. Yes, it was a note saying what she'd described, and one that appeared to be written by him, but how could that be? Adrian did not recall writing such cold words, though he had to admit that the replication of his own handwriting was uncanny. He wished for a way to tell her that it was not him, but she was already convinced. The only thing he could rely on was their past together. Only their past could serve as an example as to why Adrian would never do such a thing!

He crumpled the note in his hands, hating its existence, feeling waves of emotion overcome him as he listened to her call him a bastard and accuse him of being the cause of the death of her family. He could not look her in her hurt eyes. Once she'd threatened him and left, he breathed out an even deeper sigh, tossing away the note and biting his lip in thought. "Whoever did this to us," he spoke to the empty room, "I will find them and kill them." His words were sure, for one of the things Adrian hated the most was being framed for something he had nothing to do with.

Though she warned him not to go after her, his first instinct was to do so. Adrian prepared himself for what disaster may occur by doing this, but as he was about to stand to leave, the door opened and an unfamiliar form walked in. An older woman, she came and took a seat beside him. "Boy........ You really fucked up, didn't you?" she began. Adrian couldn't help but smile at that. It was true, and that was exactly the way he felt. Listening to her describe the condition Rosalinda was in when she first arrived, he could only imagine how scared she must've been, how alone she must've felt. It made him even more determined to catch the culprit. Rosalinda... cared about him, and felt heartbroken by him, but he felt he didn't deserve her sadness.

"Why does she care about me so damned much?" he questioned the cook as she got up to leave. It would have been better if she didn't care, but would Adrian honestly want that? He didn't know. Apparently the cook did not hear him, as she went on about a man found dead in the inn in the past, hinting that Rosalinda was the one who'd done it. He smiled again. He liked this cook. She had a warm heart, and he was happy to know that she had looked after Rosalinda during her stay here. Hopefully with Cook, Rosalinda hadn't felt alone.

×××××

Adrian thought about what Cook had said. What could he do to solve this? His only plan was to beg her to leave with him, for he was sure all of the answers would be right there in his own kingdom. The bandits, the note, the king's blatant lie about her elopement, even the mysterious way he had shown up in the forest, he would be able to get to the bottom of all that back in North Vaces. Still, it would be cruel to ask her to leave the place she now saw as home, and it would only anger her more.

He'd talk with her again, later, when he'd bring her meal. He'd treat her gently, and tell her that he would leave but bring back evidence of his innocence. That was the only thing he could promise her as of now. He'd go and come back, with something that would make her believe him. But tonight...Tonight he'd spend with her, as he did not wish to leave the inn knowing she was unhappy. Maybe they could speak to each other like they used to, and relax, without all of this tension. That was his goal, and as Adrian headed to the dining room, he was satisfied. He planned to tell cook when she'd come to serve the guests, then he'd go to see Rosalinda.

The smell of the food was heavenly. Entering the room, he noticed two girls were there, the unseeing one he recognized from earlier, but he did not recognize the other girl. Instead of rudely interrupting the maidens' conversation with his arrival, Adrian took a seat at an empty, nearby table. He placed his spear onto the table then removed the ribbon from it, fingering the blade in anticipation.

Perhaps she shouldn't have thought about it.

There was a loud crash and shuffling. Other people were no in here. The smell of warm food attracted her attention and she half wished for something to nibble on, but brushed the idea away. Footsteps, someone came or left, and then the smell of roses surrounded Seda, dulling her thoughts and smudging her image of the pub with pink flowers and thorns. Someone had approached, a girl by the sound (and smell) of it. Asking to sit with her. Seda moved her head to 'look' at the girl, which ultimately would just look as though she was staring at the wall behind the mysterious girl, and nodded,

"Sure... Yes. You can sit." her voice was quiet, nearly matching Tala's in shyness. With slight self-consciousness her hands reached up to push the long strand of gray hair that had obscured half of her face while her bare feet intertwined and tapped against the floor softly. Another sound, more footsteps and the smell of animals and silk. Eyes on her face which quickly turned away. A table just to her left was suddenly taken and Seda tilted her head to hear a bit more, then returned her blind gaze to the girl seated before her. The smell of roses was almost intoxicating, filling her head with meadows and petals and pollen and a sneeze built up in her nose and was suppressed with a single thought and somewhat strained face. This girl had LOTS of different smells to her, besides roses. Something chalky, something sour, something sweet. Either a potion maker or a florist sat before her.

Something else entered the fray of smells, food. The girl was eating. Quickly, Seda hardened her face and mind, trying not to let the evidence of her slight hungry make the girl uncomfortable or suspicious. She could easily take something later on, unless money wasn't a problem. She sat back a bit, eyes now staring blindly at the ceiling while her mind finally got used to the strong smelling girl in front of her.

Wait, what did people do in a situation like this? Talk? Talk! Seda felt her lips pull into a tiny smirk as she lifted her hand, holding it out towards the girl,

"Hello. My name is Seda. I have recently arrived at this Inn after a long and treacherous journey through those maddening woods out there. I am currently getting over traumatic events which I experienced in said forest. I apologize for my instability in advance. Nice to meet you." she was speaking like a teacher, or an insane person, overly exhilarated and yet as monotone as can be. Seda gave a wide grin as if to signify that she was only joking.

Leo propped his head up, one of the patrons had approached with the poker as requested. Thank goodness. It was some fresh-faced warrior, sword on the hip. Good, that meant he might be used to the blood. He was a little hesitant though, not a good sign.

"Unpleasant? You think I wouldn't know? Hurry up, you fool!" Leo shouted to the man.

As the poker approached, Leo bared his teeth and scrunched his eyes shut. The pain was something fierce, causing him to tense up his good arm and suppress a full blown painful shout into a protracted grunt through his teeth. The man wasted no more time, thankfully. It was over before he realised. Leo lay and breathed heavily for a good half a minute. The smell was one he wished was not familiar, it was a necessary smell. His arm was so sore he could hardly feel it, but it had been saved for now. Now he just needed to bandage it, set a poultice over it ideally.

When he got the energy to open his eyes again, Leo couldn't see the man who had cauterised him. Pah, the man must have just been a closet sadist or something, didn't want to own up for saving a life. "Dwarf..." Leo mumbled to the dwarf who had been cleaning his wounds. Now that Leo was a bit more awake, he could see the he wore a leather apron and had strong looking arms, maybe a smith? It could be worse. "... I need you to dress my wound. In my bag, there are a few clean bandages left... use them... wrap them tight..." It was then that Leo realised that his shirt sleeve had been cut off to access the wound, but at least they didn't cut at his jerkin.

The dwarf, who seemed rather quiet, nodded and complied. He was rather considerate, given the circumstances. More consideration than Leo normally got. After the dwarf tied the white bandage up, Leo tried to slowly sit up and get his bearings. He was exhausted, that much was clear. The inn was indeed real, against all probability. There were a number of different kind of people scattered about the room. Scanning around, he spotted an elf man nervously thumbing at the small spear he had set on his table, a couple of women on their own table, one in leather, another in a dress, another dwarf cheerfully dressed in a cloak at the doorway, and the young warrior who helped him, who was looking rather pale back at his own table.

"Oi, you there!" Leo directed to the warrior, before waving the man over with his right hand. Leo held his head low, so tired, at least he could buy the man a drink before he passed out completely. "Get over here, I won't bite you."

Despite Willow's capability to change into most any shape, she was still not strong enough in her normal form to pick up and carry a full sized human girl. The tree spirit also figured it would be in her best interest to not show off her changing abilities quite yet, though it was common knowledge that dryads could shape shift to suit their needs. She did not want to cause any alarm; it would only cause the princess more stress. Then there was the fact that since she was not a full blooded dryad, she was running low on energy, each time she changed shape, it took a lot out of her. She had changed so many times from her dryad form to her human form since arriving that she was not even sure she would be able to shift into something strong enough to get Lia inside the inn and to their bedroom.

"Excuse me," she said, her voice loud and jarring. She was not one for shyness, and since she lacked social skills, she never really knew when she was being rude or not. "Is there anyone here with strength left to help my companion inside and to our room?" She put her arm on Lia's shoulder protectively, her eyes swimming with many emotions.

Lia blushed, tried to straighten up and seemed to be managing quiet well, but the pain was still evident on her face. She crossed her arms over her stomach, as if trying to hide the small bulge that was starting to show. Would she be judged for being pregnant at such a young age, though she technically was over the age to be so. What if they asked where her husband was? She had the fake marriage licenses, but if she had to start explaining anything, she knew that she was horrible at lying.

"Please, I'm fine. Don't worry about me, Willow." She looked across the grassy yard, toward the inn. It did look a very long ways away. She swallowed, a little nervous. 'I can do it. We've been traveling for over a month, by horse and by feet.' She really hoped their horses had made it somewhere safe. She had really grown fond of them.

Upon arriving at the door to the Inn, Caelyn in a matter of minutes witnessed a man getting his flesh seared, and a strange humanoid helping another walk into the field. After nodding his head in respect to the traveler for having some stones, he made his way back out into the field to help out the struggling duo with their approach. "Might I be lending ye a hand? I've got broad enough shoulder for ye both to rest upon." Caelyn grinned. He wasn't used to being able to be the one to help a damsel in distress. Usually he was the one making them distress. It almost felt wrong..... almost, shaking his head of such a notion, Caelyn offered his arms up to the two weary ladies. "Madre be proud", he muttered under his breath.
To her credit, the woman seemed intent on not being helped by anyone so much in fact that the first thing her heard her say was "Please, I'm fine. Don't worry about me, Willow." What she had not counted on was a stubborn dwarf, one intent on helping in any way he could. He had been given a second chance at life and he wasn't about to waste it. "Aye Willow, I think she may be able to handle herself, after the lass gets some rest. No weakness in takin' an extended arm me Madre used to say."

Trunks of ancient trees, perhaps thousands of years old, forced the vardo wagon to take a circuitous path throughout the confines of the Drakenwald forest. They had not made the time that Assallya would have liked. Char was driving the weasels hard, the forest canopy, unlike the entrance to the kobold mines, providing his sensitive eyes some protection from the burning sun overhead. Unfortunately, it did the same for those giving chase.

Behind them she heard a horn, several long blasts that reverberated between the ancient trees and through the leaves of the forest canopy overhead. It startled her. The very air seemed heavy with the sound, the blasts all encompassing. She knew what the blasts meant. One of their pursuers must have spotted the fleeing wagon. The horn was to lead the others to the wagon. It wasn’t surprising. She just hadn’t known the kobolds to use them. Looking behind her she caught a glimpse of a red scaled kobold as he crested a ridge, urging his weasel forwards with a flexible leather crop.

“Char,” she yipped in the kobold tongue, “problem!”

Char didn’t even look backwards. Just snapped the reins to take advantage of a rare straight section of the path they had been following and spurred the weasels forward. One hissed in response, something that reminded Assallya of a cornered rat defiantly facing down a group of adventurers in a dungeon. It was the “cornered” aspect that bothered her. She was beginning to feel that way herself.

“Very well,” Assallya stated in the common tongue despite Char’s inability to understand it, “If that is the way they wish it.”

The blonde elf twisted in her seat, glaring at the pursuing kobold with eyes that had gone cold. She began incanting, a string of arcane syllables flowing from her tongue. Invisible streamers of energy curled backwards behind the wagon and ensnared the weasel riding warrior. It was a simple spell, the simplest of magics, but in this particular instance was quite useful. The kobold suddenly found himself dizzy, confused, and bereft of equilibrium. Unprepared the small lizard slid from the weasel’s back. The last Assallya saw of him, he had caught hold of the leather harness in one claw and was being dragged across the uneven terrain. Slammed against a tree, the kobold lost his grip and fell away, tumbling through the brush.

“That should slow them down.”

Then another horn blasted.

“By Myrkul’s shriveled black balls!” she cried, small fist slamming into the bench.

There was a snap against the wagon’s side. Assallya jumped and Char made a small yip of surprise. Something impacting against the wood. Searching for the source the sorceress caught sight of another kobold, somehow folding another bullet into his sling while guiding his weasel with his knees. Gods be damned, she was truly beginning to despise kobolds.

Spell after spell she flung back in the direction of their pursuers, conservative magics wherever possible. The weasel riders simply did not clump together enough to hit them all with the slumbering mists. They were like a wolf pack, or at least for one as her that had read about wolves but never seen them in action, what she supposed the wolf pack would be like. Two of them had begun flanking twenty paces to their left and right while the others were spread out behind at a distance and made no attempt to climb aboard. They had seen what she’d done to them when they tried. Once she had paralyzed one completely, and the limp form had fallen from the weasel like it was dead. Another she had turned against his own fellows with a charm spell. That had caused them some significant trouble while they dealt with the traitor in their midst. She supposed they were now waiting for the wagon to lose a wheel or break an axle. At this rate they could simply hold back and casually launch slung bullets at their leisure.

“Slow. Slow.” Assallya yipped at Char now that she saw the problem.

For hours the mobile siege continued. The elf and her kobold protector racing aimlessly. The kobolds too timid to make the final push, occasionally flinging a sling bullet. Assallya discouraged that behavior with a spell each time until they gave that up as well. Finally, instead of murky forest ahead there was a curtain of golden light spread across horizon. The forest’s edge was upon them.

“Char no understand,” the black scaled kobold keened loudly over his shoulder, “forest not end here. Forest end further.”

“You complain?”

“Meh.” Char acquiesced with a shrug in what Assallya, bemused by the expression, thought was very human.

Sudden determination ushered the kobolds into one final attempt. Assallya finally managed her slumbering mists on those to the rear and she succeeded in felling three of their number but the two at flanks pressed in tight, leaping from their weasels and catching hold against the wagon. One grasped the brass pole, and began to shimmy up it. Another caught hold of the window sill one side.

Grasping her light crossbow Assallya stood up and then immediately stumbled forwards over the supplies tied to the vardo’s roof. She fired her bolt at the kobold that was climbing the wall but she was a horrible shot. The kobold yapped in surprise as the bolt missed his snout by inches and then his beady small black eyes furrowed beneath the kobold’s brow ridge. He drew a small blade, barely the length of her longest finger, and moved onto the wagon like a gecko scaling a tree.

Despite the terror filling her Assallya moved almost by instinct. She stomped on him as if he were a bug, her bare foot slamming down on his skull. The kobold’s eyes were unfocused, stunned by the blow. The elf found herself surprised as well. She wasn’t the sort that engaged in such activities. Still, that didn’t stop her from revelling in her accomplishment.

“Get off my wagon!” she said, kicking out again, her foot catching the small figure beneath his chin and launching him off into empty air.

To her left she caught sight of the other kobold attacking Char. The small creatures were both quick and slender. She’d never seen a kobold fight another. She’d seen them duck, weave and dodge warriors with remarkable nimbleness. This was different. Of similar size they fought more like humans only with more speed. They were currently fighting over a knife.

Assallya took the opportunity to reload the crossbow in her hands from the quiver next to the bench, kneel, and tried to find an opportunity. There really wasn’t one. Char had let go of the weasels, letting them follow the path on their own. They rolled about on the bench like a pair of wild cats and Assallya couldn’t see how to shoot one without risking the other.

Beginning to despair, the elven woman, was about to take her chances with the butt end of the crossbow. That was when they emerged from the forest into some sort of clearing. Both elf and kobolds were blinded by the unrestrained sunlight but Assallya lived on the surface. She adjusted far more quickly. Both kobold were blind, eyelids clenched against the light, and still struggling for the knife. What had happened was that they had both stopped thrashing. Assallya loosed her bolt, catching the red skinned kobold in the ribs, transfixing their opponent.

“Is it over?” Assallya asked in the common tongue, peering about and forgetting for the moment that Char didn’t understand it.

It took the pair several minutes to recover their wits, to look about and see where they were. Adrealin was still coursing through their bodies. Their breathing was ragged. They were in a clearing, in the middle of the forest and before them stretched a rather expansive inn.

Finally, after several minutes, Assallya looked at Char.

“Why resting place here? No smarts be here.” she said, totally confused.

“You complain?”

Assallya chuckled mirthfully at the answer to that.

“Meh.”

Tala's face narrowed in realization as the other girl gave her a thousand yard stare. Of course something was off - this one didn't see her. She was relieved when she was allowed to sit down, her sore legs crying for a moment of rest. Setting her bag and bow on the ground, she pulled up a chair. Taught to behave, Tala didn't pry about the other's blindness, especially since she knew these people were usually aware of much more than healthy people might believe. Unable to resist any longer, she started wolfing down the first real food she had in days.

She was taken by surprise when Seda introduced herself and swallowed clumsily to allow herself to speak. A silent giggle escaped her lips as the silver haired woman spoke of the forest. "Oh, I believe you. That makes two of us." Tala said as her voice warmed up a little. The other at least wanted to appear as if she was joking, but Tala seen enough of the forest to know 'maddening' was the correct word for it. "I am Tala, an alchemist." she said as she reached over the table, shaking the offered hand.

It didn't escape her that Seda's hands felt as nimble as hers, if not more. Tala wondered if that was a result of her blindness or her profession, whatever that could be. Relalizing she held the girl's hand a bit longer than was polite as her thoughts drifted, Tala let go, glad the other couldn't see her reddening cheeks. "So, what evil made you go here of all places?" she asked casually. Tala asked that question herself many times in the past few days. So far she couldn't decide whether it was her greed hunting the materials for her ring she was being punished for, or just her dismissing the warning. But she also couldn't shake a weird, perverted even desire for adventure, and part of her enjoyed the trip so far, dangerous as it was.

"Llyw, let us finish our conversation later, shall we?"

The apprentice nodded with vague assent toward his acquaintance. It would be good that someone look in on the barmaid, and all the better that the someone in question was not him. He did not even really know her, after all, but the spearman did. As Adrian turned and followed after Rosalinda, Llywelyn drifted toward the bar and procured a cup of wine before retreating toward a corner table.

Once securely seated, the apprentice produced a book from his satchel and laid it on the table. In the common tongue the cover read 'Vandar Brightmantle, his life and works, as recorded by his student Auredhel Hardfoot.' Flipping the book open, Llyw wished he had brought something a little more engaging to read. He was fond of his master, but the old elf had a tendency to drone on while speaking, and that tendency was if anything exacerbated in writing. The tome detailed, as one might imagine, the life of the human wizard Vandar, under whom Auredhel himself had once studied. Reading the book was important, the master said, not because he had written it, but because it shed light on the noble arcane traditions which they were being initiated into.

Even so, it was dreadfully dull. After a few moments of bumbling over the same paragraph, he turned his attention to the barroom around him. He sipped from his cup and watching the goings-on with keen interest. Truly, the Hallows Inn was a madhouse. All kinds of strange men and women, of races both familiar and fantastic, milled about in groups. Newcomers, such as himself, were not difficult to spot. They looked dirty, weary, or hungry. Most looked to be all three at once. He spied the blind maiden from before, chatting with a human near in age to Llyw himself. Not far away, a strange dog-headed man was shouting at a warrior, who appeared to be closing a wound with a firepoker.

How dreadful... he thought, staring a bit, He will have to have that looked at by a proper healer soon, or else it will surely become infected...

As Adrian returned, Llyw rose to his feet. Taking his cup and his staff in his hands and his book under his arm, he strode over toward him. He was the only person he had really spoken to, thus far, and that beside he was rather curious about the stranger. He said he was an adviser to a King- so where was the King? Not here, surely.

“Ah, my good man,” he began with a smirk, taking a seat across the table and setting his book beside the spear. “I was very much hoping that you would return. I feared that the lovely Rosalinda might have run you off...”

He trailed off, afraid that he might have been edging along a rather personal, emotional subject.

“But, ah- oh! You asked me how I came to be here, but I never had the chance to ask the same of you. How exactly does a king's advisor find himself at an inn in the Drakenwald, miles and miles from either King or Kingdom? Do tell, or I shall be forever curious.”

A dwarf? Willow looked at the man with unabashed intensity. She had never seen one in person before. She had heard of this race, of course, but never had one traveled through the forest she resided in. He was small in stature, but looked rather strong. Far more strong than Willow now felt herself, let along poor Lia. Though, Willow felt her pride flare up at the idea of getting help for herself, and it must have shown in her face, because the dwarf continued, something about welcoming help when you needed it and he mentioned his mother.

"I really am okay, good sir," Lia said. She looked at Willow and could tell the tree spirit was conflicted on whether she should give into her human side and accept the dwarf's help. Perhaps for Willow's sake, Lia should also allow him to help her. She did feel more weak than usual. Lia had seen some of the servants before when they were with child and they continued to bustle around, cleaning and doing vigorous labor. She could not fathom how they were able to do that. Forced by the King and Queen, no doubt.

Lia felt ashamed that she never once offered them help, though they had never asked and her being Princess, they would not allow her to help anyway. She wondered what happened to their babe when it was born. Did it get raised to be a next generation servant, or was it given to an orphanage, or worse?

"I do suppose we could both use a little hand... I mean, a hand," Lia blushed. "I meant no offense. I mean... oh dear, I'm making a right fool out of myself." She looked from Willow to the dwarf, something akin to panic settling into her eyes.

"You should not apologize, My Lady," Willow scolded. Lia had forbidden Willow to tell anyone she had runaway from her kingdom and was a princess, but whenever the tree spirit wanted to remind her of her upbringing, she called her "My Lady," which was almost as bad.

Willow looked down at the dwarf. "Should she? Are you offended?"

"Hurry up, you fool!"

A bellow that resounded throughout the inn took the attention of Lazarus, who rushed to see what was happening in his inn. Barden, hand on the hilt of his sword, followed after the innkeeper. Upon reaching the bottom floor they saw that a man or... Dog? was being treated for a wound. Barden winced ever so slightly as he watched the flesh being seared shut from the safety of the staircase. His grip relaxed and left his blade. As the commotion settled down around them and the inn returned to its previous atmosphere of calamity the ranger set his gaze back to the staircase. He hoped that the she-elf was not too offended by his swift departure, remembering he had not even allowed her the opportunity to tell him his name.

Since Barden had arrived at the inn a habit from his old life had been nagging at him, a craving as such. Once more the ranger approached the innkeeper. "Innkee- Lazarus, I don't suppose you'd know where I could get a smoking pipe and some pipe weed (tobacco)? I don't imagine there would be any spare lying around here..."

Lazarus cracked a smile to Barden, once again his hand resting on the ranger's shoulder. "You're in luck ranger." The innkeeper told him, scratching at his bearded chin. "I used to be somewhat of a craftsman for a while, I'll fetch you one from my collection." Lazarus paused and looked around him as if he was looking for somebody, "As for the pipe weed, you're going to have to see Grombrindol for that, he's the man, well Dwarf for tobacco around here."

The ranger nodded his head as a show of gratitude towards the innkeeper, "You have my thanks."

Lazarus shook his hands as if to pass up his gratitude, "There is no need to thank me... Go." He began, "Find Grombrindol, he'll probably be out at his anvil, I'm sure you would have seen it on your way in. Tell him I told him to give you keg of whatever pipe weed he has. I'd like to give you a barrel, but I doubt the Dwarf will part with one of those."

Barden laughed and now placed his own hand on the innkeeper's shoulder, mirroring the gesture, "Thank-you, friend." With that Barden took his leave and left the inn, walking around to the anvil and forge. Where, sure enough, he found the Dwarf, "Grombrindol, is it?" He asked.

The Dwarf turned his head to look at the ranger, pausing his hits off whatever it was he was currently forging, "Aye?" he asked, quizzically.

"Lazarus told me you could part with a small keg or pipe weed."

"Aye? Did he now?" Grombrindol gave the blade a few more hard hits with his hammer before dunking it into the water that sat beside the anvil. He turned and walked towards the ranger, eyeing him up. Standing at less than four feet off the ground, Barden arched an eyebrow as he looked down at the Dwarf. "Well, a friend of the innkeeper's is a friend of mine." Grombrindol smirked, patting the ranger on his side. Within moments of rummaging he came back with a small wooden keg, it was like a miniature barrel, he opened the lid and wafted in the scent. "Aha! The finest pipe weed known to these lands." The Dwarf closed the keg once again and passed it out to Barden who took it under his arm. "Southern Star..." Barden noted from having seen label before he tucked it under his arm. He nodded along with Grombrindol, "A very fine tobacco indeed."

"Aye, enjoy it, there'll be more but uh... Don't go smoking it all in one go, I don't want to run out anytime soon, y'know?" The ranger laughed,

"Don't worry, I'll spare it. Thank-you master Dwarf."

"Think nothing of it, ranger." Grombrindol noted, a courteous nod aimed towards Barden, who replied once more with one.

---

Upon entering the inn once more, the keg tucked under his arm, he was approached by Lazarus, "I see Grombrindol was happy to oblige."

"Indeed." Barden replied, looking down at the innkeeper's outstretched hand, something which Barden imagined to be a pipe was wrapped in cloth. Taking the wrapped pipe from the innkeeper's hands he placed the keg down on the table beside them and carefully unwrapped the cloth. The pipe was simple, no fancy engravings or carvings, but it was beautiful. Crafted from Briarwood (as many pipes were), the thin hollow stem (or the shank), was curved, subtly and the bowl (chamber), was a good size, one that fit with the pipe and appeared to be inlay wood by the different shades in the wood. There was no obvious bit (mouthpiece), but rather it was just a part of the stem, the whole pipe blended perfectly and other than the different shades in the chamber looked all like one piece of wood, which Barden was sure it was. "It's perfect."

Lazarus laughed, "Hardly perfect, it was one of the last that I carved, so probably one of the better ones." The innkeeper paused, "I have business to attend to, but enjoy the pipe." He smiled and took his leave of Barden. The ranger tucked the pipe into the belt so that the stem and the chamber were visible, taking the keg of pipe weed in his hands he found his way back outside. Standing on the porch type area he looked out to the woods and put some tobacco into the bowl of the pipe before lighting it up.

The feeling was bliss, nostalgic. Savoring the taste of this particular blend of pipe weed he blew smoke from between his lips, attempting to form rings. While he did get one or two it was something that he had to perfect once again now that he had a pipe and tobacco after a year in the Drakenwald,

"I do suppose we could use a little hand....." Caelyn looked down and his stubby hands and let out a booming laugh. He looked up to see her blushing, and it made Caelyn grin all the wider. "Got some spunk in ye aye lass? No offense taken my lady, but if ye refuse me help, then I may be a bit hurt." Caelyn threw the one carrying the girl a wink. He was used to being made fun of, although he knew that she truly meant no offense. He gently coaxed her arm over his shoulder and proceded towards the inn?
"So what brings ye to the dark damned forest? Did ye come for the same reasons as meself, I just love the chance to smell rancid decaying forest and nothing is more peaceful than thorns ripping apart me flesh. Ah and the soothing rain and absolute darkness gets me every time."
Speaking of smells, Caelyn could have sworn he smelled the soothing aroma of pipe tobacco. After searching he spotted a man out on the porch of the inn smoking! "Aye me boy how about helping a fellow out with these beautiful ladies, and I would very much like a hit off that pipe!" Caelyn grinned.