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[h2][i]Alenia the Wounded[/i][/h2]

Alenia sat across from the man, glad that he had accepted her company. She leaned her shield against her seat and slipped her sheathed short sword about at a comfortable angle so it would not be pressing against her hip or side. The man introduced himself as Renault, remarking to having not seen her before, to which she relplied ,”I am not from Draydon. I actually just arrived this evening, not hours ago.”

Alenia turned to see the rather flamboyant would-be-wizard enter. She did not care for the look of this one. In truth, Alenia had no quarrel with mages. While wary around magic, she was not unfairly stereotypical to those who wielded it. Not all who dabbled in the arcane were witches to be torched in the town square. And a mage could be just as useful if not moreso than any clod recruit with a sword. A belief that differed her from her former cohorts of Waterdeep. 

Losing interest in the elder mage, she turned back to the man whom she sat with. Nodding in slight at his apology of courtesy, she said with crossed arms ,”I am from Waterdeep. Well, originally I am from Baldurs Gate. The name is Alenia, “The Wounded” to those of my past.”

She ended with a slight smile and turned her attention to the same serving girl from her first entry, who approached with a food tray carrying her requested order. Stew, mead, and bread and cheese. The young wench placed her food and mead before Alenia and then extended her hand outward, requesting payment ,”That’ll be twenty, m’lady.” she said in a sheepish tone. Alenia reached down and fished the coin from her purse and handed them to the server, who nodded slightly before stepping away back towards the bar. 

Alenia reached for the mead and as she did asked Renault ,”So, are you a local to Draydon? What’s your story, as they say.”


[@Ghost Shadow]

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