After he was done sharpening her blade against the grindstone, the dwarven smith once more dusted off his apron of shavings and handed over Talaran's weapon looking good as new.  "There ye are, lass."  He proclaimed with a hearty chortle while stroking a few bits of steel from his beard.  "She may feel light as a feather, but I assure you I've tempered the steel till it's hard as dragon scales."  Talaran smiled lightly and gave the blade a few swings, making sure not to harm any as she did so before sheathing the heavy sword behind her back, her expression noting her satisfaction with the way it whistled through the air with each cut.  **"Aye.  A fine job you did indeed, good sir."**  She said in gratitude while fishing a few coins from her leather purse at her side.  **"How much do I owe ye?"**  "Awww not much, lass.  A few pieces should cover it."  Humbly the smith replied.  Nevertheless, Talaran placed in his calloused, rugged hands a generous sum of gold, plenty to go around what with the traveling she's done and it seemed to her the lowly smith needed it more than she did.  "Ahhh....The gods bless ye heart, kind lass.  Me wife and me boy will surely appreciate this too."

**"Ah tis nothing, friend.  May Tha'agorn bless ye forge as well, and thank ye for the work ye've done to me sword.  I should have no trouble carving that wyvern's head off now."**  And with a fond farewell, Talaran carried on her way through the city, until coming across...quite the foul odor that choked away the pleasant scents of the market.  _The slums.  Better keep me eyes peeled._  A nefarious place of nefarious people and dealings oh so.  In a matter of seconds, some damn sneak thief could rush up and have his hands on her wallet and a knife at her back.  Bah!  But the fool would be quartered before he even laid a grubby finger on her hard earned gold.  Yet the Dunenmer woman remained alert scanning about the dark alleyways and the crevasses between the unshapely structures, before mozeying into one of these buildings herself in need of a good drink after such a long journey.

It was...well...not an inn, that was for sure, but an abode brimming with libidinous pleasures, such a place a woman was never to be seen lest she be servicing the men's fancies, both their thirst...and their _hunger_.  Strolling into the house of desires, Talaran was rather set back by the eyes upon her, such lovely eyes to the woman belonging to such lovely bodies as beautiful as the Ice Goddess herself.  Taking her sword from behind her back, she sat it at the door and removed her helm, immediately her snow white hair flowing over her rusted pauldrons and down her backside in silky strands and her eyes, blue as ice, glistening amidst the warm glow of a crackling hearth.  She took her seat at the bar and sure enough, a smooth and sultry voice fell upon her ears in a cat's purr, "My my....you're quite the handsome face.  Can I get you anything , darling?"  Talaran turned to face her, the [lovely wench](http://www.templates.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2009/06/dark-elf-queen-by-artur-grzegorczyn.jpg) (SNAKE NOT INCLUDED), clad in nothing but scraps, the poor soul, yet scraps the warrior wouldn't mind seeing....fall to the floor.  **"Mead, me fair lass."**  She replied with a warm smile crossing her parched lips.  **"I hear talk in this town it's the sweetest mead ever."**  "Why yes, as sweet as the kiss of a fair maiden." Charmingly the wench purred, a bit of redness finding its way to the warrior's cheeks.  Must've been the heat off the hearth.