[center][b]Wet fur and pipe smoke.
Offers given and taken.
The drums are beating.[/b][/center]
Sniffing with disdain at the sight of his commander shaking hands with Myra, Major Bayaz stomped out of the chamber, nearly hitting the elf as he passed. Myranda barely noticed. She was too busy wondering how a woman with Claes Astra's reputation for tactical brilliance and martial skill could look so pretty. The life of a sellsword was a harsh, brutal, and typically short affair. It also tended to leave its mark on those unfortunate souls forced to kill others in the name of making coin. Yet this woman's pale face looked like it was carved from the same white marble found in Scipillar's legendary Hundred Pillars, and her red locks glowed brighter than any torch. And the general's attire didn't diminish her lovely bust either. Not in the least.

Whistling, the elf released the human mercenary's hand and sat down heavily in a nearby chair, sighing as she peered at the unexpected treasure sitting before her. General Astra probably smelled nice too. Like honeysuckle or plum cake or something like that. Unfortunately for Myranda, her white lion skin cloak, which was draped across her shoulders, had gotten soaked during her journey from the Loyal Hearts Tavern to Taranidorn Keep. While Claes and the other human in the room took a moment to not-so-subtly reach for something they could use to defend themselves, Myra was wondering if they smelled the odor of damp fur filling the room. The words "awful" and "stinky as three day old orc shit" came to mind, and the last thing Myra wanted was for the blonde-haired man standing by her chair to faint due to the stench. He might drop the ominous-looking steel candlestick he was holding. That would be a shame.

Smirking at the man, the elf slowly opened one of the shabby leather pouches hanging from her belt and pulled out a wooden pipe adorned with carvings of leaping reindeer. Apparently taking this as a sign Myra wasn't planning to kill anyone, General Astra began to explain why she'd commanded Major Bayaz to bring the elf to her office in the first place. Even the woman's voice was pleasing to the ear. In the back of Myranda's head, however, the faint sound of beating drums began to make itself known, though she did her best to ignore it. While it would be interesting to see if the general's mastery of mounted combat translated well to close-quarters fighting, Myra knew pulling a blade on the leader of a mercenary company wasn't a smart idea. Especially if the sellsword in question had a sizable force of underlings at her beck and call.

True, the elven warrior enjoyed nothing more than finding fighters with impressive reputations and putting them to the test during battle. She lived for the moment when these proud, arrogant bastards realized having a reputation didn't make you special. It just meant you had a bigger target painted on your back. After all, there was always someone smarter, stronger, and meaner out there looking for a chance to make a name for themselves. Kurdan might have been a drunken blowhard at the best of times, but many of his teachings had proved invaluable time and again. 

Not picking a fight with someone just because you thought they might be a challenge was one such lesson. 

Licking her lips and taking a deep breath as Claes continued speaking, Myranda reached into the purple-dyed pouch at her waist and produced several black leaves with red stems. After rummaging around for a few more moments, she pulled a single sulfur match out of the same container. The general was probably going to keep talking for awhile, and the least Myra could do was try to get rid of the smell permeating the chamber.

After tamping down the wraith leaves in the bowl of her pipe, Myra struck the match on her sabaton and lit the pipe, discarding the match with a quick flick of her hand. Coincidentally, General Astra finished speaking just as the elf took a few test puffs and blew a single, yellow smoke ring into the air over the red-haired human's head. Now, instead of reeking of wet fur, the room smelled like roasted honey and cinnamon as the wraith leaf fumes roiled and danced around Myra's face in unnerving spirals. So, she was being offered a place among the Gray Winds? Inhaling a little and blowing another smoke ring, the elf couldn't keep a delighted grin from spreading across her face as she clapped her hands together sharply. It seemed as if tonight might actually end up going her way. 

Chewing on the stem of her pipe, Myranda glanced over her left shoulder at Claes' companion and said, "Be at ease, Cap'n Candlestick. I ain't gonna hurt ye, I promise. Especially since I've a mind ter take this job yer boss is offerin' me." The man didn't look reassured in the least. 

Turning her attention back to the general, and blowing a stream of sweet-smelling smoke out of the corner of her mouth, Myra said, "First things first, General Astra, I must say...yer awful pretty-lookin' fer a soldier. Especially a soldier fer hire. I mean, a few o' the other convicts won't stop jawin' about how pretty ye is, but I thought it was jest talk. Turns out them rumors didn't do ye a lick o' justice, an' that's a fact." Settling back into her chair, the elf vented smoke from her nostrils and said, "Ter be honest, general, ye had me at pay an' a half. Besides, I'm sure it'll be more fun marchin' around with yerself and yer lads than trudgin' alongside the footsoldiers and other convicts. Them penal battalions ain't gonna last long once we get ter fightin' if the men I've seen are the best we got. Half of 'em are too young ter know which end o' the sword to stick ye with and the other half are so old their wrinkles have wrinkles! I guess what I'm saying is I'm yer elf." Myra stood up and wiped her hands on her leather leggings, grinning all the while, and took her still smoking pipe out of her mouth. Reaching into a green-dyed pouch dangling from her belt, Myra pulled out a crumpled piece of parchment and set it on the general's desk.

"I got me a room at Colwen's Bunkhouse near the center o' the city, General Astra. It's a bit hard ter find so I drew a little map ter help me remember where it's at. Ye can use it now," Myra said as she gestured towards the parchment with her pipe. "If'n ye need ter get a message ter me jest send someone ter the bunkhouse. Oh, and, if it's possible, I'd like ter meet me platoon afore we cross the Gap. Just so I can introduce meself and help 'em get...what's the word? Acclimated or some such? Aye, acclimated to me style o' command. An' don't worry about them gettin' all pissy 'cause I'm an elf an' all." Myranda's smile took on a sinister edge as she said, "I'll bring 'em around ter seein' things my way, don't ye worry. I can be very persuasive. So, a good night ter ye, general. Captain Candlestick." Myra inclined her head in Claes' direction and strolled out of the room, puffs of yellow smoke trailing after her like lost ducklings looking for their mother. It had been a long, fulfilling night and the elf was eager to get some rest.

A hand suddenly grabbed Myra's arm tightly. "General Astra didn't dismiss you, con..." Major Bayaz's voice started to say, though the Tolosi sellsword never finished his sentence.

[i]Bum ba-BUM! Bum ba-BUM! Bum ba-BUM![/i]

With the sound of drums thundering in her ears, Myranda yanked her arm out of the major's grip and grabbed his right arm in a vice-like grip of her own. Major Bayaz barely had time to cry out as the elf pulled him towards her. The other three mercenaries who'd been watching the general's door were so shocked it took them a few moments to get their weapons out. One of them, a stout fellow with a boil sprouting from the side of his face, dropped his pike in his haste to point it at Myra. The five of them stood there, a horrible, strained tableau just outside General Astra's office. The elven warrior's face was beet red and a series of muscle spasms ran up and down the side of her neck as though insects were flitting about beneath her skin. Taking a deep breath and fighting the urge to rip Major Bayaz's arm off, Myranda said, her voice as sharp as the sound of a sword being drawn from its sheathe, "Do...not...fuckin'...touch me. Got it?" 

All the terrified major could do was nod, his face white and his eyes so wide they looked like they might fall out of his head.

The elf released the human and, as if nothing unusual had happened, pasted a nonchalant grin on her face. "Good. I'll see ye all tomorrow, aye? I got me a feelin' it's gonna be a great day. Lookin' forward ter it," Myra said as she sauntered away from the four stunned Gray Winds, her pipe still crammed into her mouth. As she started down the keep's main staircase, Myranda heard Major Bayaz viciously berating the man who'd dropped his pike and she chuckled, a harsh, croaking sound that seemed to be equal parts mirth and something like regret. It was just like Kurdan always said. Nothing in life is ever easy.