[IC] The Forests of Death (Dead)

[EWillden]

The Forests of Death

It was noon in the city of Shar'es, and activity was booming. Elves littered the streets here. However, they where not the only ones present in this city. Humans, halflings, and even dwarfves roamed the streets. However, the white city did not yet know of what had transpired at their city's heart. At the pristine white fortress of the elves guards moved here and there searching and hunting for someone. That someone was Nova, their princess. She had gone missing, kidnapped perhaps. Some chalked it up as she just ran away for awhile to get some fresh air. The other story on the grape fine was that one of the family's enemies had took en a hold of her and would soon demand a ransom. It did not take long for the guards to exit the royal grounds and into the city. They asked shop keepers, tavern owners, merchants , and even posted up posters for the citizens.

Ishmael stood outside the large throne room doors standing rather steadily. His squire beside him waiting at his every call. He did not want a squire ,but the order demanded it of him. What did they possibly want from him. His job was to go in and slay demons and destroy evil at its source. It was no place for a stable boy. He sighed and looked to the boy. "Make your self useful boy and get me some water." He said. Might as well make the boy do something rather then stand there nervously. Then he rose his hand up and the boy stopped in his tracks. "Wait?..." He said and the doors opened. A hand maiden approaching them. "The King and Queen will see you now, Brother Ishmael." She said. He gestured for the boy to follow him. "Lead the way young lady..." He almost choked with laughter on that one. Young lady... this elf was likely older then him by a hundred years or two. She bowed and lead them inside. His blonde hair blowing from the draft of the door. His blue eyes now full of seriousness. The walk down the long blue rug trimmed with silver , and designs of flower pedals. It was a good sized throne room and took a bit of walking ,but once he reached the steps leading up to the thrones of the queen and the king he went to one knee and waited for them to speak. He rose up a hand and grabbed the boy beside him pulling on his shoulder to get him to kneel.

"Stand, sir Ishmael, knight of the holy order that helps guard my city from the evils of this world." spoke King Ellisar. Ishmael did so and motioned for the boy to do the same. The king smirked at the young lad. The boy looked as if he was in his early twenties. "Looks like they gave you someone to teach..." Ellisar commented. Ishmael looked to his squire and sighed.
"He can be a royal pain in my side, but he does learn rather quickly" He said. He then looked to the King and the Queen. "You summoned me?" He asked.

"Yes, if you have not heard from the gossip and news in the city, our daughter Nova has gone missing." Queen Maylin answered. "We gave it a few days to see if she hadn't just gone out on her own. She has not returned...."

"You expect fowl play?... sorry to interrupt you. What leads have you?" He asked getting right to the point. "Our seers have told us who might be responsible, we have no clue as to where they are located ,but the bandits of the Black Moon clan are responsible." replied Ellisar.

"We know this because, two of their members where spotted in the city by the guards no soon after. We have them in custody right now." The Queen added. Ishmael nodded and gave a smile.

"Don't worry, I will find her, first things first going to gather a posse to help me go after their comrades. Then I will take one of those prisoners with us to help us find his friend's base of operations." He said. With that he bowed and left the Queen and King in the royal chambers. His squire bowing nervously and ran to follow the holy knight. It did not take long to pass through the turns and doors to the outside. Once he did he headed for the jail cells. It was there that he saw the two prisoners. He motioned for the man on watch to unlock the cell that held the one. Once he did he grabbed the man by the side of his head pulling him out. He then held him in place as the guard put shackles on him. "Your coming with me,... brigand." He said and then pulled the man along a rope tied to the iron cuffs.

It took them only a hour or two to reach a tavern. It was named 'The Royal Serpent'. He sighed, saying a prayer of the holy order and then entered. He then brought his squire and the bandit to a table and sat down. Forcing the bandit to stand. He then told the squire to bring out a piece of paper. "Write down on the paper, these words" He instructed.

"The Holy Order of the Great Pegasus, had commissioned a quest. To which a brave few will go with me to brave the wilderness and challenges of this world to bring back to the Royal Family what was stolen from them and the bandits punished. A reward will be issued upon success of this mission."

He did not say the reward. Only that there was one. The simple mentioning of a reward was enough to get people interested. He then instructed the boy to post it on the bulletin by the taverns doors. It was now that they played the waiting game......

...... Meanwhile, three days away from the city a small wagon moved upon the road. It carried precious cargo. That cargo being lady Nova Lysanthir. She was tied and gagged left in only her black and thin clothing. With white boots trimmed in red. The grabbed her before she could armor up. Lucky bastards. If she could only get loose she could end these fools. The wagon had two bandits in front and one sitting in the back to watch her. On the left and right of the wagon road to men on horses. There was another horsemen covering the rear as well. They were armed with long swords and morning stars. They wore chain mail underneath their tunics and had tattoos upon the sides of their necks. That of a black crescent moon. They where nearing their destination.

[Afina]

In the shadows a cloaked figure leaned back against the wall of a building across from the tavern watching the people bustle about; arms crossed and head covered by the hood of the mantle. the figure was smaller in stature and thin but that could barely been seen due to the shadow. It waited patiently as people went in and out of other buildings, going about their daily lives. A hand reached up and pulled the hood back. Long strands of hair the color of wheat, pearl blue eyes, peach hued skin kissed by the sun; had the womans hair been cut shorter and her eyes darker one could have easily mistaken her for another that was in another land. The traits of the Rawn Gypsy was strong and their women stronger. Taking a few leisurely steps Ramara emerged from the shadows and made her way over to the tavern proper, bushing past those that passed in her path without notice. She took no note of the bulletin board as she walked into the tavern. Preferring to get the lay of the land first before she did anything else.

Stepping inside and to the side of the entrance she made her way along the wall before approaching the bar and seated herself; a single finger raised in the air as her elbow rested on the wooden counter top. The bar tender walked over to her and smirked.

"The usual?" he asked with a toothy grin.

"Any word?" she said in a rough voice.

"Sorry Ramara, still nothing," he said. Ramara nodded slightly and told him to get her the usual. He left for a brief moment before returning with a pint of dark mead for her and setting it on the counter next to a few coins that she had placed there while he was fixing her drink. Leaning back in her seat she took a long drink before setting it back down empty and wiping her mouth with the back of her sleeve. Rising from her spot and looking around again, taking note of who was there, who wasn't and what seemed off before making her way back out of the tavern and over to the bulletin board and checking out what jobs were currently available.

"Missing persons, relic recovery, lost goat?" she read out loud. "I ain't finding no goat," she muttered under her breath before taking note of a certain piece of parchment that the Holy Order was looking for adventurers for a quest. "Well better than nothing," she said as she turned and walked back into the tavern. Searching quickly for the one who had posted the notice, she found him quickly enough. He stood out as purity in a place that had none. Pushing her way through the crowd she walked over to him and tilted her head to the side slightly as she looked him over and raised a brow. "Ramara Rawn, at your service," she said quickly before taking a seat across from him at the table, taking note of the others with him perking a brow. "Friends of yours?"

[Salrynn]

Meanwhile in the tavern, a girl was bored. She was dressed like a pirate and she had all the attention of the customers, both female and male. She was telling of her stories of her expeditions in the sea. The stories where she was swashbuckling while singing her very bad pirate songs while invading others and stealing their gold seemed to be the most exciting for the barmaids. Some even were envious of all the adventures she had out in the sea, getting more excited as she kept going.

‘well!!!’ The girl smirked as she continued the other story ‘I remember in one of my invasions I stole lots of treasure! and one of the enemies was so dumb! he thought I was one of them!!! HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!’

Everyone started laughing until one of the barmaids came up to her in a very pissed off manner. She wasn’t impressed by how rowdy the pirate girl was and told her to get out. But the pirate hesitated, poking her chest and then one of the men who wasn’t very impressed with her behaviour either attempted to punch the girl. Eventually she got up on the table and jumped up, JUST reaching the chandelier, which ended up making the man punch another customer. This started a bit of a bar fight, which didn’t impress everyone who wasn’t involved, including the barman.

[EWillden]

Ishmael looked to Ramara and although he did not quite like what he saw, he decided he shouldn't be picky as to who joined him on this quest. The princess was indeed more important then his values in a person. She commented on his company and he looked to his squire and the prisoner and wasn't too sure how to answer that. He looked back to her and just gestured to the young boy. "My appointed squire,... the other is someone I will be using to locate and find The Black Moon's base of operations." He said. Then he paused and realized his mistake in his words. "We,... we will be using." He corrected himself. "My name is Ishmael, and I thank you for even taking interest in this...." He was rudely interupted by a man hitting the top of the table. Another approaching said man ready to finish him off. The man on the table brandished a nife and as he was about to use if to make a new maggot hole in the other's belly he felt a hand grab his wrist. He looked to see who had the nerve and found himself stairing at a not so happy visage of a paladin. The man gulped and dropped the dagger.
"Apologies...." the man said in fear.
"Leave this tavern,... my patience has been tested more then enough today" Ishmael said. He then looked to the other man. "you too..."
He then rose up letting go of the man and watched the two exit the tavern. He then saw the fight that broke out and he was not amused. He thrust out with his hand and a holt bolt of lightning hit the nearby wall causing those near to hit the ground from the blast. The others turned to see the caster and froze. Those on the ground eventually turned over to see the paladin as well. Having yet the same reaction.
"You have ten seconds to leave this tavern, before I throw you all in a prison cell." He voiced. They did not hesitate, getting up off the floors and one by one they rushed out of the tavern. He then looked to the woman on the chandelier. "You just volunteered for a mission,... you got a choice. Either take part in it, or spend a week or two in the dungeon?" He asked her.

His squire in awe at which the people reacted to his sire's presence was inspiring. He wondered why Ishmael gave the woman two options not like the ones who left. He then looked to Ramara and gulped. The lord really has a odd way of throwing subjects in their path. Especially this one, he new she would be a problem. Especially when he saw one of the daggers at her side. It was as long as his forearm.... that's no dagger, that's a short sword.

[Afina]

Ramara sat there, on the edge of her chair in perfect repose; back straight, shoulders back and head level as she listened to Ishmail begin to explain who the two with him were. As he thanked her for taking interest in the mission she simply nodded and said not a word but a look of irritation came over her features as the fight broke out but she moved not; unbothered by the brawl even though she was tempted to take care of the two that had interrupted their conversation but left it to the Paladin since he seemed to be on top of the matter. Her lips thinned slightly as she sat there as her eyes jerked to one side to take a quick look at the one that Ishmael was addressing hanging from the chandelier over the middle of the room that had now cleared out.

Her eyes shifted to look over towards the squire as a smirk played on her lips. She still said not a word, nor seemed to move; not even the rise of chest as she breathed. Like a statue she sat there until suddenly a single hand came to one of her daggers and with a single flick of the wrist it went into the air; Ramara still looking the squire dead in the eye and not bothering to look where the blade flew. It hissed through the air slicing through the rope that had held the chandelier in place before embedding itself into one of the rafters. When she heard the telltale thunk of metal into wood she merely winked at the squire before lowering her arm that was still extended from the initial throw. The rest of her body had not moved an inch.

Her eyes faced forward again and stared towards the place the Paladin had been sitting, awaiting for him to return to his seat. As far as an explination of why she did what she did, she said only thing. “Just giving the lady a hand down,” she said to no one in particular as the chandelier crashed into the floor of the tavern. If the woman had gotten out of the way or not, she didn’t look nor did she care. Loud over bearing braggarts always left her in a bad mood and hearing the fact that the Paladin had just basically made her join left a bad taste in Raramas mouth.

[Salrynn]

Just as soon as she was going to answer his request she noticed a dagger instantly chop the rope connecting the ceiling and chandelier together clean off, but with quick thinking she landed on her two feet on the sturdy chair which was pushed out from the woody table, with her hat almost coming off. With a hearty laugh she placed her hands on her hips and stepped herself down from the chair with the sounds of clip-clops from her boots, seemingly to be rather boisterous and very… unusual.

‘Har har!! ye seems to have gotten me this time!’ The pirate girl commented to the two ‘As for the proposition… I need to ask a few things. I would like to know if I can invade stuff, and I would also like to know the details and if I will be getting loads of gold. I don’t do this kind of stuff for free… Also I would like to have the information of what I would need...’ She babbled on with all these questions as she walked around the middle-aged man, continuing with her clip-clop noises deliberately to try make him angry, finally finishing up she grinned and unsheathed her trusty cutlass quickly, playing with its tip recklessly ‘Also, good sir. Why the FUCK did you ruin my fun!!??’ she retorted ‘it was fun watching them beat the crap out of each other...’

[Goldeagle1221]

Derrix “Nightbane” Herchiv

An extremely tall man by the name of Derrix “Nightbane” Herchiv had been planted in a rough wooden booth of the tavern for a while. Stacks of paper with ink black letters adorning the crisp pages were laid in a neat pile while his nimble fingers brushed a quill along a fresh piece. He sat straight, like a soldier at attention as his muscular and rather large arms moved with his deft hands to quickly and expertly summon the words from his mind onto the paper. Raw scars spiderwebbed from underneath the fringes of his blue cotton tunic’s short sleeves and stretched all the way to his calloused fingertips.

By the soft glow of lanterns and candle light, his adult yet still youthful face glew as it stared at the paper with unbroken concentration. Strange golden eyes that stared from the scar covered face of the square jawed poet stabbed the paper with a piercing gaze. Two bulls horns were tattooed against his red cut covered cheeks, one on each side, pointing up in black color into to his bright eyes and short dark hair.

Not a smile or frown twitched his still lips as he concentrated. He barely moved and his thick muscles only tightened and relaxed with each letter he gracefully drew onto the paper. Behind his concentrated eyes were whispers of a weary man, or perhaps just a tired soldier.

Whatever gasps and whispers may softly emit from his seemingly glowing visage, he was known only by those who saw him as a poet, or the quiet man who just took his own time at the beat of his own silent drum. He was too large and extraordinarily fit for anyone to bother, and too quiet and introverted for anyone to have a reason to.

With a loud unsuspected crash the candelier tumbled to the floor loudly. A stray chip of its shattered remains flew through the air and knocked his small vial of ink over. The black liquid oozed out of the glass vial and slowly blotted out his paper he had been writing on. He seemed to stare at it in disbelief for a moment before slowly collecting his untouched papers and folding them into a small satchel.

The bench creaked softly as it was relieved of his weight and he stood up, his broad shoulders catching the light of the lanterns. With a stoic expression he studied the strange scene before him; an energetic pirate woman and an older paladin hashing out deals.

He raised a scar covered palm now wet with spilt ink and in a deep and commanding voice he spoke, almost in an annoyed monotone, “you spilt my ink.”

[EWillden]

Ishmael ignored the other comments. The biggest fool in the room actually thought she had a choice in the matter. Then her last choice of words. She could not have chosen any more foolishly. He got up in her face this time. His calm demeanor had left his face and now he had a bit of anger building up. "You listen to me,... In what little world do you think a knight of the holy order has to answer to a low life pirate like you?.. Furthermore you have no choice in the matter at all. It is either here or the dungeons with you? Do you understand me? I don't mean some jail cell down in the guard quarters... I mean the dungeons underneath the fortress.. the kind you never leave from unless someone like me says you can." He then leaned back into place standing tall. His face not at all changing.
"Next time you talk to me in such a manner ,dont be surprised when I shut your mouth." He then decided perhaps this person was incapable of doing so. He just aimed his hand at her and snapped his fingers. Saying a simple word of... "Silence" This cast a spell of silence on her. No matter how hard she would try. She would not hear her words nor would anyone else. "I would ask you to apologize to the man for spilling his ink, but that would be beyond you at this point." He looked to the man. "I apologize on her behalf, if it makes a difference there is a spot available in the quest. You can join and her reward that she would have gotten if she wasn't so rude, will no be yours" He said and looked to make sure none of the ink stained the man's cloths. He then moved to return to his seat. IF the man agreed to his terms or not was up to him.

"Apologies miss Ramara was it?" He asked. "The specific mission is simple. Lady Lyanthsir had been taken from her home and she is to be saved from the bandits of the Black Moon clan.... She is to be brought back unharmed and safe. The bandits...." He said as he looked to the prisoner. "Will be given no mercy, no quarter. They will be dealt with swiftly and with your skill I have no doubt that my words will ring true. Your deadly accuracy with a knife blade will see to it that these fools wont stand a chance." He then looked to the squire who was a bit shocked in the face..

"What's wrong with you?... if your going to freeze like this when the lady throws a dagger. How are you expected to even travel with me when....you know what never mind." Ishmael said. He placed a hand to his forehead and proceeded to massage it. Of all the squires I had to receive I got the one with no courage. Corellan... your laughing right now aren't you?....

...... meanwhile back on the road. The bandit's proceeded to head for what could be seen as a abandoned fortress scarred by war. It was built into the side of a rock face with parts of it replaced with logs and boards. The could see it in the distance. They were almost home.... so close where they now. The amount of coinage the royal family would pay for their sweet princesses return sounded rather enjoyable....but one of them would never arrive at the fortress. The one in the back of the wagon was not doing his job and paid for it. Nova the witch hunter got loose and instantly summoned one of her blades and ran it through the mans gut and twisted it. The flame blade burning a hole in the center as she pulled it out. The bandit's blood sprayed onto her. She then kicked him off the wagon and he came crashing down. The bandits on horse back drew out crossbows and aimed at her. She sighed and dismissed the blade sitting back down... "Sorry... the man kept staring at my ass."

[Afina]

Ramara sat there, hands in her lap as she listened to what transpired; a sly grin coming to her lips as she continued to look at the place in which the paladin had been sitting before their conversation was so rudely interrupted by the corsairs shenanigans. As the young woman played with the tip of her sword Ramara rolled her eyes slightly, this child was certainly going to be a handful and the only thought that she let escape her mind and move to her lips was “children should not play with knives” in near silent tone before taking a breath, her chest rising just ever so slightly as she did. They had not even left on their journey yet and she could feel her frustration building.

When Ishmael addressed the man about his ink Ramara mouthed the word whoops, true it was the pirate that had caused the bar fight but it was Ramaras dagger that had sent the chandelier on its course to meet its fate splintered on the floor and towards the walls where the ink well was knocked over. Apparently the Paladin was placing the fault on the one that had caused the commotion in the first place, thankful for that she thought. Ramara was brash and lashed out many a time but she knew better than to draw the wrath of one of the Holy Warriors. She wasn’t stupid.

Nodding towards Ishmael as he readdressed her and asked if he had remembered her name right. “Yes,” she simple replied and listened to him continue with their conversation as she received the jist of what was going on. So the Lady had been taken, perhaps this wouldn’t be a waste of her time after all. She was sure the reward would be plenty and be enough to allow her to further her travels as she sought to find her sister Sana. As he commented on her blade work she almost laughed but instead let it go and shrugged. “We will see, it’s better not to underestimate any in battle, even the lowest bandit,” she said in a flat tone. “Or Corsair.”

Her eyes turned slightly as he addressed his squire. He had a point, what good was a squire that seemed to have fear just from a woman who sat with blade. She had seen his fear before she had even flung the dagger. For all the squire knew was that Ramara had them as decoration or to keep people at bay but had no knowledge of them and she certainly hadn’t threatened him. She sat there. Perhaps silence was unnerving to the unlearned one. Something he would have to get over rather quick if he was to be with them while rescuing the Lady. Ramara doubted it would be an easy task. Those that went after such high positioned people either were skilled themselves or were working for someone that was. Ramara perked a brow at the paladin as he massaged his forehead and her lips pursed to the side in agreement to the overall feeling. This was going to be frustrating on many levels.

[Salrynn]

The pirate, known as Inyata made the most impressive pout ever, she was clearly annoyed and wanted to beat the living daylights out of the paladin ‘The bastard took my voice!!!’ she said in her mind ‘This is not fair!’ She suddenly had a temper tantrum and stuck out her tongue at the young lady. wondering why she could be herself but not someone like Inyata herself. She ended up placing her hands on her hips once more.

She turned her head to the newcomer and she was fuming, how the hell can the blade lady get away with it when she was the one that caused the ink to fall in the first place. She nodded hesitantly… deciding to join them, even though she feels she will not be able to do anything since everyone will be down at her throat. ‘So much for being yourself… Nobody enjoys my company here… rotten scum… if grandfather was here he would perish them all...’ she spoke to herself in her mind since that is pretty much what she can only do.

She finally decided to sheathe her cutlass on her side since she still held it and finally crossed her arms under her bust sighing softly, this time she wasn’t attempting to piss anyone off… for once.

[Goldeagle1221]

Derrix “Nightbane” Herchiv

“I am just a poet,” Derrix insisted as he folded his large arms across his chest, “a poet without any ink.”

He looked over the two women and two men who had gathered into a colorful group. His golden eyes seemed to glow in thought as they scanned the four and his chest expanded as he inhaled slowly. The group before him already looked mismatched and disorganized at best, did he really want to bind himself with these people? Probably not.

His gaze stayed on them for a while longer as he festered in his inkless annoyance. With a sigh he let his thick arms fall to his sides as an unsaid thought tickled his conscious and prompted him to ask, “what is the quest?”

[EWillden]

"You likely know who Princess Lysanthir is,... She has been kidnapped by this fellows pals. The party i form together here, will be tasked in rescuing her." He explained. He then looked to his squire. "Make yourself useful will you... Go get me a glass of elven wine,..." He then looked to there guests with a hand stretched out.." What will you three have?..." He asked. He remembered that he placed a silence spell on the pirate lady. "Spiced rum for her,..." He waited for their responses. The squire looked to them as well making a mental note of what they would want. Once they gave an answer he went to the barkeep and made a request and paid for the drinks. He then returned to the table handing out the drinks.

"Times like these I am glad I am a paladin of Corellan... I can indulge myself in some luxuries..." He said. He then looked up... "As soon as one or two more people join us we will begin. Eat, sleep, drink, it will be paid for by the order." He said. He leaned back in his chair staring into the goblet. The red wine reflected his features. He looked to his squire. "Daniel,... You will have to stomach your fear. We will be in serious fights that you might have to take part in yourself. If you are to be a knight like myself." He then gestured to Ramara, Derix, and Inyata. "I can't protect you all the time and you shouldn't expect them to either."



...... The ride to the fortress seemed yo take forever despite it being seen in the distance. Nova sighed as she stared at the crossbows...."Can you people travel any slower?.." She asked. It took the bandit riding in front with the driver all his will to not turn around and retaliate. The driver just looked to him and shook his head.

[Afina]

Ramara just sat there as Inyata stuck her tongue out at there, not giving the child a second thought. Giving attention to a temper tantrum would only encourage another one later on. She just hoped that the Corsair would mellow out during the journey but she doubted it. The sea faring weren’t exactly known for being quiet. As she heard Derrix mention that he was a poet without any ink she perked a brow. He didn’t appear the scholarly type but looks could be deceiving. When dressed as her people Ramara looked as unassuming as any other woman her age.

Reaching behind her into her pack she pulled out a small ink well that she carried with her to write to her family with from time to time to let them know she was still alive. With a flick of her wrist, she let the ink well loft in a high slow arch towards the man. Whether he caught it or not was up to him. For Ramara it wasn’t an act of kindness to give the man an inkwell, but a payment of debt since it had been the splintered wood of the chandelier she let loose that caused the loss of property. Thankfully she had another in her pack or she would not have been so generous.

Ramara still had not moved an inch from her initial resting place, only the single hand from one stone figure sitting in the chair moved. Resting her hand back in her lap she looked at Ishmael as he offered them food, drink and respite for the time. As the squire looked at her she spoke only two words. “Wine. Fruit.” Sitting there in silence after that she waited for her order to arrive and when it did simply sat there not touching it for a time. Listening to the paladin make clearly aware that it was not her or any of the others present job to protect him.

Ishmael was right, it wasn’t. A squire had to learn to defend himself if he ever wished to be something more. Yet, in a way Ishmael was wrong. In a battle, you watched the backs of those you fought with. So at least in part she would have to make sure Daniel didn’t die within the first five seconds of the first real battle. After that he was on his own if he didn’t prove himself useful. Serving food and drink when it could be obtained with a simple call out to the tavern wench was not useful, just convenient. Once the thought passed her mind she picked up her goblet and took a small sip before placing it back down.

[Salrynn]

As soon as her spiced rum arrived Inyata sat down, poking at what contained the drink, before clasping the handle with her hands and took a swig, instantly spitting it out. She HATED this drink, she never even had it before! Sitting in a sulk she crossed one of her legs on top of the other, repeating the same with the arms; on another tantrum… She really wanted to talk and she still couldn’t as she noticed in a failed barrage of mouth action.

She sighed and gave up as she bit her lower lip, deciding to remember on the much happier times she had on her hip, although she could teach them all how to make beer if possible; but she very much prefers to steal it so she didn’t have to go through all the hard work.

In sudden movement she stood up quickly and paced around the now quiet tavern as this would now be her new way of complaining until she at least wasn’t mute no more, and she quite enjoyed this way of ranting because then she wouldn’t be disturbing anyone unless they looked at her with interest, well… more like annoyed interest.

[Warrior in the Shadows]

The scene of the bar was no doubt quite chaotic, what with the fight that occurred for a short period of time. It had been quickly dispatched and silenced. This unnerved one man as he would loved to have joined in, but his senses were rather dulled at the moment. The man was simply known as Wade, and his attention was currently diverted towards vomiting in a bucket. He had gotten himself completely drunk before the day had even gone dark, and he had seemed to show no signs of stopping. He wanted to live in a perpetual world of drunkenness.

He would never tell you this, but he got himself so inebriated to feel something again. Even if it was only for a little while.

Wade finished his vomiting, finally bringing his attention to what he had noticed earlier. It was a posting for a mission from the Holy Order. Although he hated any dealings with the holy orders, or the government for that matter, he knew them to pay well. He was more than obliged to take them up on the offer, and took up the new task of locating the paladin.

It had appeared that the man with a rather holier than thou look about him was the one issuing the quest. Not to mention the man had been talking loudly about the quest and that he had declared that he was a paladin. He appeared to have a good sizable group gathered around him, and appeared to be more than content to voice his opinion of one of them in particular. Wade hadn't really the patience for a paladin, they always annoyed him. He would have to deal with this one for pay's sake.

Wade began heading over, having to stop in his tracks once, to vomit and dry heave for a few minutes. Wade nabbed a bar towel from a table he was passing and wiped his face off with it in an attempt to be more polite. Manners were something he immensely lacked in, mostly due to the fact that he had no idea that he was being rude in the first place. He had killed too many people to care anymore.

He arrived at the table to find a drink, seemingly left unattended in front of an open chair, almost as if Wade had been given a formal invitation. He put the bucket with the disgusting contents to the side under another table. Giving a toothy grin to the paladin, he welcomed himself to the chair, "Wow, you ain't bad for a paladin." He said, taking the drink and beginning to nurse it. "Something tells me, you're the man with the job." He said, waving a finger around, weakly leaning against the table.

"I don't have a letter of introduction or anything." He said, ending his sentence with what seemed like stomach acid rising in his throat. He sent it back down with the rum. "With that said," He gave a small attempt at covering his mouth, before giving off a loud belch. he took a few seconds, made sure that was all, and continued. "I am a skilled fighter, so you CAAAAN count on me." He leaned to the side, seemingly losing his balance, but gaining it back and bringing himself to lean against the back of the chair. He continued to nurse at the rum, seemingly enjoying it for the simple fact that it was free.

[Goldeagle1221]

Derrix “Nightbane” Herchiv

With a quick reflex, Derrix snatched the inkwell out of the air. He turned the vial over in his palm for a moment, and his golden eyes seemed to sparkle as he shoved the new inkwell into his pant pocket. The corner of his lips curled into a thankful smile and he gave a friendly bow of his head towards the well postured woman, “thank you.”

The man seemed to ignore the call for drinks as he never responded to the squire or the paladin’s offer, and instead opted to lean against the wall by the booth. His eyes seemed to dim as he watched a drunkard slowly stumble over to the table, retching and belching polluted breath all along the way.

A quiet seemed to conquer Derrix as the drunk slammed down into the booth and started flapping his lips about this and that, mostly about the quest that the orderly paladin had offered him instead of filling his inkwell.

Derrix rubbed his cheeks in thought, his rough fingertips gliding over the bumps of his continuous scar. His other hand was dug deep into his pocket, idly rolling the cold well of ink over in his fingers as he listened. Some small voice, some tiny thought in his mind whispered and poked him, prodded even, to pay attention to this quest that was not his, and to accept it; for what bizarre reason: only the poet and his tiny idea knew.

[EWillden]

As the group got to the size of five people. Seven if including the boy and the stupid fool who should have left the city with his friends when he had the chance. The whole scene was being watched from a hole in the ceiling. She heard words of quests and bandits and a sweet princess who needed rescuing. It was almost story book... She rose from the floor of her room and snapped at one of the bells about her hat. It has been awhile sense I took up an adventure... She thought. She smiled and kicked open a case and pulled out a violin. A sweet melody coming off of it. She exited the room and into the hall the sound of the tune vibrating through the walks. Then when she began to step down the stairs, a sound of tiny bells jiggling followed. When she came into veiw what they would mistake her for is a jester. She even had a black spade painted below her eyes. The eyes were a shining magenta and her hair only stopped at her shoulders. Black eyeliner went about her eyes. She moved straight for the table with her violin. To them she was fool, but she was actually a well skilled assassin. Once she got to the table the music stopped. She rested the violin on the table and placed a leg up on the table as she leaned over. She was very close to the paladin to the point his squire had a good view of the size of her medium sized breasts. She moved a hand to the boys face. "It's rude to stare boy." She spoke. Her voice was soft and a bit on a high side. Not too much though. Just a tiny bit. Her eyes never leaving the paladin's.
"I heard from up on high that you are looking for people to save the adorable princess?..." She said. Her demeanor a bit on the crazy side. "I know I look like a simple entertainer, but I am more then that. See." She with out hesitation took the paladins hand placing it on her wrist. It was there that he would feel a punching dagger. She then gestured to her boots. Putting pressure on the heel releasing a good two in knife blade to poke out the tip. "There are more in all kinds of places if you wish to check." She said raising hand almost to her chest before he forced it out of her grip. She had to laugh at it as well. The violin itself was compartment of her many toys.

Ishmael gulped at her and his only thoughts where... This is a wild one. "Your name?.." He asked. She perked up her brows as her eyes widened.
"I did not say it?... I swear I did.... " she responded a hand reaching her chin. "Well I could have forgotten too... Oh how rude of me, and to think I was going to make your hand grasp my breast without knowing it... The name is Ciceria..." She finally answered. This woman was clearly mad. She was a bit off but she will be acceptable.
"Welcome to the crew then." Ishmael said. He then stood. "That makes seven people,... I think we meet my quota." As he did so his squire rose in the same fashion. Ciceria winked at him and blew a kiss. The boys face turned red which made her laugh. Ciceria then brought hand up to her nose and looked around. "What is that god aweful smell." She looked down and beside her to wade. "Oh" Was all she managed to say. Ishmael had to sigh. If the boy was to be tested against lust... She would be the best test for him. "I will go prepare us a cart,... You can all join me or wait here. Either way we will leave once the cart has what we need that is." He then left them at the table to decide. Ciceria rose up grabbing her violin and darted up the stairs. She got her Violins case and put the instrument within. She then grabbed her belt which held her main dagger. It's blade three inches long. It was also rather curved as well. She returned to the door just in time to join the paladin. She looked rather excited. Then again she could have always looked like that. She was truly insane. He grabbed the parchment from the bulletin. Handing it to the boy. With that they headed towards the north east entrance. It was here he came up to a stable boy. "I need a cart filled with the necessary supplies." Ciceria found herself eyeing a white horse. Very beautiful...."Ooohh what a wonderful creature..." She said. Ishmael looked over and he found himself in agreement with her. She was well mannered. Side from her attempt to make him grope her. He hoped she wasn't serious with that attempt.

Nova felt the wagon pull to side of the path. She rose up as new ropes her bound to her wrists. They were stopping... Here of all places.... These bandits sure lacked brains. They pulled her and the wagon off the path and into the woods to get a good fire going. They hoped they would not be spotted but she doubted it. She sat there on the forest floor as they prepared the make shift camp. She sighed... She felt insulted that the clan of bandits sent these idiots. A few hours past the sun was making its trip downwards. She quickly heard rustling as they talked. Apparently they heard it to.. The rustling was followed by howls and barks. What emerged from the brush was a goblin. It seemed alone and Nova was already standing looking for its friends. One of the bandits moved towards it. What the bandit did next was foolish. He swung with his morning star smashing it into the creatures face killing it. Nova cursed..." You idiot,... That was just a scout. It's friends will have seen the act and will retaliate" she barked.

"i don't listen to you Elf witch.." He called her but when he blinked he saw it. Petruding from his stomach. A spear head. They soon where attacked by the other goblins and she took this moment to make her escape. She heard their screams but ignored them. As she ran she collided with the chest plate of a large orc. She saw the brand on his neck and she gestured behind her. "Your friends disturbed a goblin nest. We should leave before they come after us to." She said. The orc rose a brow grabbing the rope and pulling her along taking her advice. No honor among fools i suppose.

[Salrynn]

As Inyata walked around the room constantly, she heard the sounds of a violin and just wanted to knock her out, if she wanted music she would go play her lute of something…Upon seeing the girl she instantly glanced at the violin player and in Inyata’s opinion… her clothing choice was pretty poor, as wearing a jester outfit wouldn’t get anyone far in this world in her opinion; mind you, her outfit wouldn’t get her far either but it did lead a few men to bed in pirate invasions, so she obviously had the upper hand in her eyes.

She was pretty shocked when he she pressed his wrist like, ‘what the hell girl!? this is no magic show, no point getting his wrist’ Facepalming as soon as he said the jester-clad girl could join… SHE DID NOT WANT A UNFASHIONABLE BITCH COME TO QUEST WITH HER! and she didn’t understand why she would blow kisses randomly to people she didn’t know, Inyata plondered on as these ‘pet peeves’ kept attacking her… one after the other.

She decided to keep q- she had no choice but to keep quiet in the matter as soon as Ismael said he would be readying the cart, rolling her eyes softly she decided to follow him anyway, if he wanted to stop her acting like the way she currently was she would have to follow him to see what's right and wrong anyway… she looked at the horse and rushed to it’s snout, petting the snout and also petting it’s next and face and it nuzzled her in return, she wanted to giggle. She may be mute but she really wanted to giggle right now… She felt at peace… for once.

[Afina]

Ramara

Ramara nodded towards Derrix hearing his thanks and then looked up in frustration as Inyata spit out her rum. Inyata had known what the drink was before it was even served or had she been struck deaf as well? There was no need for that disgusting display as far as Ramara was concerned and it seemed that things were not going to get any better when Wade wobbled over to their table. The stench from him and the bucket was nearly over whelming and for the first time since she had rested herself in place she moved, rearing back slightly in her set as her hand waved the smell away from her face. Rising quickly she shot the man a look before looking at Ishmael. “I suggest he be bathed and his mouth rinsed out with jasmine before he goes anywhere,” she said flatly.

Turning slightly she eyed where her dagger had landed in the rafters and moved quickly; a foot landing on the banister of the stairs leading to the second floor before pushing off gracefully into the air and flipping up into the rafters. Grasping her blade and pulling it out of the wood as she crouched down in the rafters. Once it was secured in her belt she simply leaned forward and fell through the air and landed back on the main tavern floor. She didn’t make a sound when she moved; just a gentle swish of the air could be heard. She was about to rejoin the group when she heard the sound of strings and bells. “Ceceria,” she said in a low voice about the time the jester clad woman made her entrance. Seeing Ishmael rise and prepare to leave Ramara decided it was a good time to place some distance between her and the drunk. Pushing outside she made her way to her horse and took the reins into her hand leading it over to the cart. She was about to actually speak when she noticed an older female approaching the tavern and the woman did not look happy.

Regalia

“Yes, I will need these things. I have a few days travel ahead of me sir,” a respectful voice said to the local grocer. The voice came from an older woman but even with the advanced years she still appeared splendid. Sensual features paired with pleasing frame that was complimented with long ebony locks and piercing eyes the color of the sea. The only thing that truly gave away her age was the streaks of gray that were woven into her dark tendrils. She was dressed as a Corsair but did not carry herself as your average pirate. She was refined and courteous, spoke well and carried herself with pride and distinction. The grocer smiled widely at her and gathered her things quickly, it wasn’t every day he was called sir, especially by someone of such high standing and reputation as the former Captain before him.

“Yes of course Ms. Montoya. My pleasure,” he chimed in as he gathered everything she needed. Regalia was about to thank him for his courtesy towards her when someone else ran into the market and started raving about a pirate that had caused a brawl in the tavern that was broken up by a paladin. Regalia took a long moment and sighed. Why was it always like this? Why did those of her background have to run around causing issues? Not all that took to the sea where uneducated ruffians and those that were only made things harder on the ones that were not; much of the time Regalia had seen the sea faring judged before a word left their mouths. It was unacceptable and Regalia had had it.

“Please take these to my horse and thank you for your time,” Regalia said in a kind voice before placing payment on the counter plus some extra for the inconvenience of the grocer having to pack her horse for her. He smiled brightly and assured her that he would take care of everything as Regalia left the market. It was not hard to find where the disturbance had happened. People were talking, as they often did on such things, and quickly Regalia made her way towards the tavern. Stopping in her tracks before she even reached the tavern her eyes fell on Inyata. It was obvious what she was and she sighed. “She’s but a child!” she said to herself before taking a deep breath and making her way towards the younger Corsair.

Seeing the Paladin she stopped before him and bowed deeply out of respect. “Sword Wizard and Corsair Regalia Montoya,” she said as she rose and looked at him. “I am sorry to intrude but I have to have words with your,” she began stopping to look over Inyata for a brief moment. “Acquaintance?” she asked quizzically before moving past him to Inyata. “You good child could use a few days in the brig for your transgression young lady. A corsair, especially a woman, does not carry herself as a loud boisterous braggart! She does not cause a tavern brawl, she ends it. Shameful,” Regalia scolded. Her words were quick and to the point and yet they were not vile in tone but laced with concern. It had been some many a year since Regalia had seen another female of the seas. They were a rare breed.

Drawing a deep sigh she rubbed her temples slightly before turning back to Ishmael, not waiting for the girl to respond even if she could. “Again, my apologies for the interruption; please have a pleasant rest of your day good sir,” she said with a bow.

“Ms. Montoya!” the grocer yelled as he walked over to her, her steed following behind him being led by its reins. “You are all packed up and ready to go,” he said as he handed the reins over to her. “Is there anything else I can do for you this fine day before you depart?”

“No, but I thank you again,” she said as she extended a white leather gloved hand to the man to shake. He took her hand and shook it vigorously as he told her to come back any time and that he hoped her travels were as smooth as calm waters. Regalia nodded in respect and chuckled a little as the man darted off back to his shop.

[Goldeagle1221]

Derrix “Nightbane” Herchiv

Derrix kept it to himself, but he found the entire idea of this mismatched group a disaster at best. In truth he wouldn’t ever even think about joining them on their quest, not even for double the reward. Derrix didn’t share much interest in the quest either, as much as he realized how dire the situation was, and how important it was to collect and save regal figures of politics, he just didn’t really feel for this mission, or at least not how it was being planned out. Missions of retrieval weren’t alien to the poet however, and his one glowing thought among the ashes of doubt forced his mind and body to accept the fact that he was in fact, going on this quest.

He trailed behind the group as they made their way to the stalls. Upon exiting the tavern he shielded his sensitive writers eyes against the blaring midday sun until the adjusted to the new light. With surprisingly soft footfalls, the lean muscled man of great height marched behind the group, deviating slightly towards his own rented stall while the others clambered for their goods and possessions.

In front of his was his horse, a breed alien to these lands, and a breed that towered over the rest. It was white with soft speckles on its rump, and it stood tall and powerful, but was built like the coveted war destrier. Derrix smiled at his old friend and put a hand on it’s nose, “Charroux, where is your groom?”

A puff of hay erupted behind the large horse that blocked the view. A honey haired woman quickly stumbled from the explosion of golden straw and stood upright, with pokes of hay jutting from her tight trouser pockets and loose white shirt. She looked young, perhaps just reaching her twenties, and her light blue eyes sparkled with the eagerness of youth. Her face was soft and pretty, and her figure was slim and almost boyish yet still boasted the gentle curves of a woman.

“Sorry, Missure, I was..” she began.

“Napping in the hay once again,” Derrix finished her sentence with his accusation, crossing his arms, “if this is too much work for you, Jasmin-”

“No!” Jasmin interjected, “sorry for stopping you Missure Herchiv, but I need this job.”

Derrix unfolded his arms and nodded his head with a soft smile, “you’re safe, don’t worry. Charroux would be angry with me should I remove his favorite woman from employment. However I am to be going on a quest.”

“A quest? But missure!” Jasmin seemed shocked, not knowing how that would affect her career. The poet raised a hand, and spoke as if reciting his word, “it will be dangerous, but it is my cultures custom to permit you to follow if you wish at your age, or to pay you for your leave for all the services you have gracefully applied.”

“I want to come,” Jasmin energetically said with little thought, or hesitation. Derrix knew her to be slightly rash, always diving head first into situations, or hay; although he did have to give her credit, she always did get the job done.

“Very well, “Derrix said in his commander's voice, “pack my chest and things on the Sumpter, I’ll take Charroux.”

After mere moments and a flurry of excited questions from Jasmin, the two were packed and ready. Derrix sat atop his large foreign steed in the clothes of a poet, while Jasmin mounted a not as large pull horse breed for carrying. A small covered carriage was pulled by the Sumpter horse, large enough for one or maybe two people and some belongings and supplies. Rucksacks and bed rolls were tied to the brown sumpter’s rump and sides.

With a loud snort and the creak of wheels the pair quickly trotted and tugged their way back to the group.