[quote=thewizardguy]
Loudly, the door to the whorehouse banged open, as Ja'Lir strode through. As was usual for anyone entering, one of the girls instantly walked towards him, to make sure he enjoyed his stay. A single withering glance from the paladin made her reconsider, however, and she quite promptly backed away. When the warrior strode up to the counter, where a scantily clad lady was performing acts more acurately described as 'entertainment', rather than actually tending the bar. As the onyx-skinned warrior halted beside the counter, however, the colour drained from the woman's face. He spoke in calm, soft tones, and yet he was clearly heard over even the dinn the drunk soldiers were making. 'There is a human with troll's blood here, where is that human?'

'W-Well, I can't-'

'If I were to kill every living being in this establishment, I would find the person I was looking for. Your answer will save me the trouble of cleaning blood from my blade, and you the trouble of being judged for your sin in the afterlife.' The tone of the palladin's voice was not one of anger, or intimidation, but rather a cold assertion of death.

'Room 12!'

Leaving the terrified 'bartender', Ja'Lir steps up the stairs, chainmail hauberk jungling with ever step. It had been a bluff, of course, he would not sully the name of the Blessed by committing a crime. Their standing in this city was bad enough. However, sometimes it was good to make use of the Blessed's bloody reputation, and his face could be devoid of emotion when he wished it to be. Which was, admittedly, pretty much always.

Unwilling to waste time, Ja'Lir kicked down the door to Room 12, the half-rotten wood easily giving way to his metal-clad foot. It crashed into the ground with a second bang, as the armoured figure strode into the room. His face was deep black, as was normal for those born in the great northern deserts. He wore a long chainmail hauberk, as well as thick plate boots and gauntlets. A helmet with an upturned visor rested on his head, protecting his scalp. A black and white tabard stretched down over his armor, the seven-pointed star of Trazyn emblazoned clearly in the center, a thick leather belt holding a long black sheat at his side. Combined with his height and muscle mass, he struck an imposing figure.

'Give the elf the glass.'

Having delivered his message, Ja'Lir turned on his heels, and walked away, eager to return to his post beside his mistress. She had a bad habit of underestimating the danger to herself in her scheming, and he constantly worried about her safety. Aside from her being a Prophet, he had grown rather fond of her over the years, as she was able to look right through his stony face, and with her he had no need to speak his feelings to have them known.

With five long strides, Ja'Lir was already at the staircase, heading down.
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Ach!  That noise!  That God Damned noise!  It was already bad enough that Talaran's head felt like it was going to split in two.  Blame it on the mead and the several fists she took to her bruised and swollen face, still a bit pretty but not by much.  She couldn't even hear the [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R3i-sps1I24]bard's tune[/url] over that pounding racket, as if the god of the forge himself was smashing the door down with his blazing hammer.  [b]"Augh! By the gods!"[/b]  She groaned loudly turning towards the door, just in time to catch it fall to the floor with a heavy thud and lay squinting, pained eyes on the ebony skinned gargantuan clad head to toe in armor.  A rather gruff fellow was he, and a bit intimidating too, even to the drunken warmaiden slightly.  [b]"An' jusht who in 'e bloody Abyss er ye?"[/b]  Her voice slurred, she stammered equally cantankerous with a sharp pair of ice blue daggers staring back at him.  It seemed as though she wanted another brawl in the blood and the ale.  Unfortunately, that was not the reason this man was here.

The cold look in his eyes, Talaran recognized it all to well, it was a look in a man or even a woman's eyes....when they were out for blood, a specific blood.  And often times, that cold look was indeed sobering to even the rowdiest of drunks.  The woman remained in her seat, her glare held on the beast of a man as he barked for the whereabouts of a human with troll's blood and demanded the barkeep tell him where this person was.  [i]A trollkin?[/i]  Talaran wondered.  There was a part of her that was itching to grab her sword by the door, to teach this bastard a lesson about barging in.  Yet, there was the other part, the surprisingly sober and more reasonable part that kept her rump glued to the barstool and her vigilant eyes affixed upon the brute.  The barkeep, poor lad was shaking in his skin and the man barely laid a single hand on him.  Only then would Talaran find it necessary to intervene...violently of course.  Luckily this time, no further bloodshed was needed.  The boy fessed up choking out his answer and off the man went up the stairs, his voice, about as charming as a braying ass, echoing with his order, [i]Give the elf the glass.[/i]  What glass?  A glass of water?  Wine perhaps?  No, how much an idiot Talaran was for thinking something as dimwitted as that.  It had to be something else, but honestly...twas none of her business, nor did she have any wishes to pry into it.  

With the last drop of her mead finished, gruffly the woman sighed and slammed her tankard down on the bar, standing up and rubbing at her face with a gauntlet clad hand.  A bit wobbly she stumbled over to the door, still disheartened her beautiful lass had left her alone at the bar, but the sweet and pungent flavor of Giulia's mead made up for it.  [i]Aye...  I shudn't 'ave drinken too much...[/i]  Indeed she shouldn't, not when she still had a job to do, that job being more of a grim and harrowing task...slay a wyvern.

Speaking of the wyvern...

"DRAGON!!  A DRAGON HAS ATTACKED MY VILLAGE!!  SOMEONE!!  ANYONE!!  PLEASE HELP!!"  The frantic and terrified voice echoed down the bogged, muddy street and soon found its way into the warmth of Giulia's and to Talaran's ears perking up at the sound.  Quickly the woman turned to the door and there he stood, a poor farm boy, his face covered in cuts, bruises and burns and his skin coated in a thick, smoky layer of soot.  Tears ran down his cheeks as a painful river and ever desperately he sobbed into his hands collapsing at the door.  [b]Aye!  Calm yerself lad!  What's the matter?[/b]  Talaran asked the boy, her eyes widening.  Amidst his woeful tears, the boy uttered in return, "A...a dragon!  A b-beast of the abyss!  I pray brave warrior!  Will you slay him?!  He has killed my family and burned my home to cinders!  Please!  Please you must slay him!"  The poor lad, he clung to Talaran's armor for dear life, the woman having to shake him off with a stern reply, [b]"I said calm yerself boy!  Was this beast a wyvern?"[/b]  "Aye...aye it was!"  Hastily and shakily he answered.  "So..w-will you slay him, great warrior?"  [b]"Aye!  I will!"[/b]  And with that answer, Talaran raced back to the bar fetching her helm.  [b]"Ye there , lass!"[/b]  She called to one of the tavern wenches.  [b]"See that this boy is taken care of.  I must be off."[/b]

Lastly the woman grabbed her sword and out the door she was running for the main gate of the city, already the stench of smoldering ashes and charred flesh heavy in the air and the beast's roar...echoing far in the distance as a call to challenge, a challenge the warmaiden would meet head on.