It was at that moment that the tavern door swung open, as if by a breeze. It had been fully closed beforehand however, and those with a penchant for the mystical could sense high magic being subtly woven. The wind itself touched none of the guests or the food, and simply ceased as the door opened fully. The redder, afternoon sun filtered through the door along with a bit of heat, before their new arrival strode into the [i]Hearth and Flagon[/i].

The only ones among the group at the table that wouldn't have been at least somewhat in awe of the newcomer were Mira and Geradin, though Beren seemed less than surprised as well. It wasn't the Queen that walked in, but an Elven maiden outfitted for travel. She was gorgeous to look upon, with a lithe body of fit muscle and soft curves. Her hair was an exquisite mane of Silver, so long and thick that it trailed down her back and tied into multiple sections, as if wrapping it once in a ponytail could not contain its unbridaled luster. Her face was lovely, but stern, glancing at them imperiously as she strode past the group to stand at the head of the table, her green cloak billowing behind her. She wore the leather and valdium garb of a high ranking ranger, but carried a mythic scepter of awesome power whose diamond gave off a noticeable gleam that seemed to linger, even past the torchlight. The most curious thing about her though, were her iron eyes. They had a soft glow that seemed never to dim. 

Calanon sat at the edge of the table nearest to her, and next to Beren. He looked at her in open curiosity. Geradin and decided to start digging in, his Dwarvish disposition keeping him from being effected by Elvish witchery, much less Elvish Witches. Still, even he gave her a glance, as if trying to decipher what to think. Beren watched her at first, and she gazed back at him for a moment, causing him to let out a breath and look at the food instead, staying stoic to his credit. She then gazed at Mira, and raised an eyebrow, before turning to the rest of them. The faintest curve of her lips only hinted at a smile from when she regarded the Half Elf.

"Well, it seems we're all here then." she said suddenly, planting her Scepter upon the ground, a low 'thump' from the sound almost emitting a magical silence to allow her to speak. "Let us get down to business then." Her words fell upon them akin to a soft spring shower. "The Queen would like to apologize for not being able to attend, and it is with further regret that you will not meet with her tomorrow, either. For what I am about to tell you is something of utmost secrecy. But first, I shall introduce myself. I am Vanya Eldendawn, the Queen's sister, Princess of Riverhope, and Mage-Knight Errant of the Realm." 

She drew herself up like a proud stallion as she continued. The lamp light flickered as all Elven servants seemed to disappear into the back rooms. "Tomorrow, a council will be convened to discuss a matter of trade, taking place of what the Queen would have met you for, for what you are tasked to do is a matter of the safety of the realm in its entirety. You will leave today, and you will leave without the aid of royal guard or direction, for it must be kept in utter secrecy within these borders, for everywhere spies slip past our patrol. This group, if you accept this charge, will travel deeper into the Southland, and infiltrate the Dark Elf city of Dal'Maroth. The Queen and I have...foreseen a plan that is being wrought by our dark kin, to sink this city into the ground, and to pave their way into the Elven coast, to undo the very Kingdom of Leth'Arian." 

Geradin sniffed, and chewed a bit of sausage. "That is the price of steel." he said. Vanya glared at him, and he stared straight back at her, before Beren gave him a look. To the surprise of everyone save Calanon, the Warrior Monk uttered a language only Geradin seemed to understand, for Dwarvish was a closely guarded secret among the stout folk. The Dwarf too was taken aback, before he reciprocated and they spoke of a few sentences in a tongue that sounded both archaic and harsh all at once. "Fine." Geradin said at last, then bit into another sausage, chewing in mild annoyance. "The lad has a point. A good Dark Elf is a dead Dark Elf."

"Make no mistake, Dwarf, that if they succeed and gain a foothold here, your lands would be in danger as well. As would the North. For the Dorcha have also allied themselves with a prominent clan of Vampires." Geradin nearly spit out his food. "Dorcha and Leeches!?" he cried. "I'd be shoved into the book of reckoning for not aiding in this quest!"

[@TheWizardLizard][@VoiD][@Luminosity][@BCTheEntity][@The Fated Fallen][@Lacks]