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[h1][u][b]Blood's Jewels[/b][/u][/h1]
[h2][u][i]“Terreille in Trouble”[/i][/u][/h2]
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[@eclecticwitch] The Winged Pig, a popular spot in the small village, wasn't exactly teeming that rainy night. The grizzled old Eyrien who tended the bar was pleased despite this to see new faces in his establishment. All too often one saw the same faces, a tiresome fact of life in this particular little village. Those that did have new faces were marked as here for two reasons. Either they were sniffing about and unwanted, or they were here for a particular brand of aid. The latter of which was something the barkeep was leaning towards. The woman's psychic scent had the undertone of 'Queen', and being the one to point out the local stop that would be appropriate to the appropriate people he was rather good at his unofficial job. Dropping two large mugs of mountain chilled water before the Saroth brothers, then set three tall honey mead mugs in front of their new guests. A convert sign. But who would do anything else for the Healer and Widow of the town? It was this town's secret and the reason they were as well off as they were. Their Queen was a fair one, their 'guests' eager for aid and willing to spend coin and keep their mouths shut.

The large winged brothers were a both a good head taller than either Beneth or Jassen. Their wings only adding to their mass. Gen ran a large hand over his face as he turned to peer at the woman and her escorts. They seemed harmless enough, week enough that Gen felt as though he could take on both Warlord Princes if it came to it. Buy Denar and Belor some time to get the upperhand against the woman. Break the woman, break the men. On top of it these men and this woman were from Hyall. The dreaded place where half his blood came from. Gen could feel Denar tense next to him. But a warning look reined in the Prince. As much as they hated the Hyallians and murder wasn't against the law, it could draw unwarranted attention and put their mutual friend at risk.

Denar nodded with reluctance but it was the barkeep who spoke, his voice hardly light and friendly but it's usual gruffness was lessened by interest. "So tell me, what are three Hyallians doin' in Aren?" His rag back at work wiping down a table that looked it had been thrown across the room one too many time. The walls that were battered and cracked in some places testifying this to be true. "You lot don't get out of your holes often." Jassen and Beneth stiffened at the implied insult to their village though they kept their tempers leashed. It would not do for them to draw trouble upon themselves. No Queen wanted another slipping through her villages and threatening a take over. Which is what exactly it would look like.

[@nohbdies] Liran had suffered only superficial wounds, though Beneth seemed to be going into a state of shock. The boy nodding in agreement that the bowl was the best place to aim. His lips trembling as the smell of smoke from the city filtered about the the house on traveling winds. Either the burning was close or there was a lot. Perhaps even both, though Liran closed his eyes and winced at the smell. Beneth was the one who spoke faltering through the syllables. "I= The town's on fire. They were draggin' people out of their homes and puttin' them to the sword. Laughin' while they did it." The bow wielding youth whispered. "Can't be staying here. Not if they want more fun." His hands ran over his face in panic as wide eyes stared at the body of the Hyallian killer. "Killed one. They were putting people to the sword at random, but I killed one."