_{This RP Takes place in the world of Isekai Hell. If you want to Rp with us, just message me! Check out our interest check! roleplayerguild.com/topics/196759-ise…)}

The storm rolled in heavy over Arborhaven, cloaking the city in rain and restless wind. Lanternlight flickered along crooked streets, their glow fractured across puddles that gathered between cobblestones. Shutters banged in the gale, and the night smelled of damp earth, smoke, and the faint sweetness drifting from the square where the new tree grew.

The Starbloom Cypress stood there—no sapling, though still slight compared to the memory of Aegrizora. Its silver bark gleamed slick with rain, its crown trembling in the storm. Folk whispered as they passed it, some muttering prayers, others refusing even to look. The tree had taken root quickly, and some claimed it drew breath from both the world of the living and the dead.

Nailed to posts and walls throughout the square, parchment sheets flapped and tore in the wind. Missing Persons—faces rendered in charcoal, names fading as the ink bled in the rain. Too many to ignore, yet too many overlooked. A farmer’s boy. A shepherd girl. A traveler last seen on the southern road.

Beneath the sagging canopy of the tavern, a man sat with a lute in his lap, his patched cloak more color than cloth, his boots muddied by the road. His hair, sandy and streaked with gray, clung damp to his brow, and his eyes—gray-blue like stormlight—watched the strings as his fingers danced.

His voice rose against the storm, carrying verses that turned heads and stilled hands:

"We are not forged of ash and stone,
Nor bound by blood nor flesh alone.
Fashioned in likeness of what none may see,
We are the shadow of divinity.

Our wills are free, unchained, untamed,
No silent slaughter shall lay us claimed.
So lift thy voices, let anthems swell—
We are the unseen, unquenchable."

The song echoed down the empty streets, mingling with thunder. No villagers lingered in the rain to hear it, no audience save the storm and the tree that seemed to watch in silence.

Yet the posters told their own tale, and the guild’s hand had been seen in Arborhaven of late. It was said that adventurers had been dispatched to look into the vanishings. But no answers had been found as of yet.

---

Ooc: You can think of any old reason to show up. But if you need one, just say the character is here to investigate the missing persons for the guild.

A blue furred beastman can be seen in the distance, barely illuminated by the glow of the streetlamps. He is wearing an ornate coat, of a design typically associated with a more feminine manner of dress, which looks to have been decorated with iridescent purple gemstones. Hovering above his shoulder is another strange stone, which floats idly although does not veer away from the airspace above his shoulder. When he comes upon the man playing the instrument, he attentively listens for a moment, even leaving a shard of beautiful crystal as a gratuity, before entering the tavern.
When he enters the tavern, everything about his appearance draws attention, especially his magical crystal. With so many eyes on him, he smiles in satisfaction, but does not yet address the crowd. Instead, he simply sits at the bar.
The bartender seems wary. Despite this beastman being slim and easy to mistake for a girl at first glance, his strange crystal indicates hidden capabilities that everyone would rather have not tested the extents of.
"What would you like to drink?" The bartender asks, not letting some basic magic intimidate him.
The beastman answers casually, as if to tease the other patrons who thought to take him as a potential threat. "Just some water, thank you." Is his response.
The bartender nods, then asks another question as he fixes a glass of water: "What's your name, stranger?"
Netzir grabs the glass as its set on the counter, and sips before answering as if to add an element of suspense. Finally, he answers: "Netzir. And if you want to know why I'm here? First and foremost, I'm a traveler. I just happened to see that there's some sort of trouble here. I want to help you with your problem."
The crystal pulsates as if expressing agreement. Netzir looks at it and smiles, then returns his gaze to the bartender, expressing a desire for information through his facial expression.

https://www.iwakuroleplay.com/threads/irihis-character-index.211268/post-4457035
[Center] Miiya Aether

The storms had been threatening all afternoon; towering thunderheads bubbling up in the afternoon warmth of the late-summer sun. The great ramparts of clouds eventually obscured the golden rays, the long shadows of their spreading anvils creeping across the deep green forest and eventually slipping across the river and climbing the hilly Ryken side of Arborhaven. As the purple-bellied clouds approached, fishing lines, laundry, and dried alfalfa bundles were pulled in by the cosmopolitan and bucolic denizens of the border city. The approaching storms promised a wild and windy evening. Distant rumbles of thunder became cracking peals as lightning flickered closer. Anyone who wanted to stay dry had best hasten to get themselves indoors.

Well, Miiya had wanted to stay dry, but fate wasn’t having it. The Aerial had thought she could surmount the rolling front of storms sweeping in from the Fae See. It had been early afternoon still, and she’d spent time, effort, and energy pumping to altitude--even with the help of the noontide thermals. A practiced aviator, she’d thought the storms scattered enough that she could find a canyon between the thunderheads and perhaps even ride the great lift of warm air that always rose in front of such storm fronts. By the time she realized her mistake--that the front was taking on the shape of a derecho--it had been too late to overfly the clouds. The storm formed a great bow a hundred miles wide and thirty thousand feet high. Miiya was a powerful flyer, but even the strongest Stormdancer could not fly that high.

Even just descending safely before the storm hit had been a bit touch-and-go. Derechos were dangerous for any avian. Once formed, they moved faster than any flyer, and could catch the unprepared aviator in a tumultuous whiteout of horizonless updrafts, downdrafts, wing-icing sleet and even dangerously-large hailstones. Once she realized she was not going to find a way between the clouds, Miiya had been hard-pressed to dive and get on the ground before the storm swept over her.

There had been a bit of turbulence, and the birdgirl had almost decided to wave off and land in a field safely clear of obstructions. In the end, though, the prospect of slogging to shelter through rain and hail had convinced her to attempt a landing in Arborhaven’s narrow streets. Despite the ground turbulence, she’d stalled artfully in the eddy of a churchtower and dropped to the cobblestones--just in time for the first wave of the deluge to wash over her. Miiya’s subsequent mad dash and string of curses both terminated as she banged in through the door of the Inn, her dripping satchel held over her head as a mostly-ineffectual makeshift umbrella. She took note of the lute player and his song, but he seemed to be occupying the only dry space under the Inn’s portico, so she continued on inside.

“Gah! Yfretting wet!!” she swore, yanking the door closed behind her and cutting off the blast of rain-laden wind that had accompanied her entrance. The windows of the common room and tavern flashed with a nearby lightning strike and an almost instant crack of thunder. Miiya grimaced and dropped her satchel on the floorboards. Turning so that she wouldn’t shower any nearby patrons she shook the beading raindrops from her folded wings, and then ran her fingers through her short-cropped brown hair, wringing out some of the wet. Her feathers were well-oiled, and had repelled the worst of the downpour. Likewise, her travel gear--while not exactly waterproof--was resistant to rain, so long as one didn’t stay out in it overlong.

Picking her satchel back up and slinging it over a shoulder, Miiya peered at the tavern of the Inn into which she had [f]blown. Her chestnut eyes took in the minor crowd in the common room, lingered for a moment on the cheery fire in the hearth, and then locked upon the Innkeeper serving food and drink from behind the bar. Her footfalls light on the wooden floor, Miiya bellied up to the bar, setting her satchel at her feet. “Evenin’ barkeep!” Her voice was a cheerful alto tone that cut easily through the general din as she addressed the owner of the establishment. “I’ll take a triple order of whatever yer cookin’ tonight!” she said, her words possibly lifting one of the busy eyebrows of the bartender--if he happened to be unfamiliar with Aerial dining habits. “Annnnd…” Miiya glanced around again. Yes, this seemed like a upstanding establishment. The crowd appeared to be a group of regulars, supplemented by travelers who were on the gritty side of upscale; peddlers, tradesmen, and minor merchants. Looks safe enough. “…a pint.” Miiya decided, figuring she would drown the regret of having to cut her travel day short due to the storm.

This was not the Aerial woman’s first time in Arborhaven, and she knew the general layout of the city. It was not by accident that she’d alighted in one of the districts with a reputation for low rates of petty crime. Even so, the birdgirl resolved to take it slow. Sure, she wanted to unwind a little after her strenuous flight, but the flying had left her underweight and dehydrated. This evening would end up being a lot less fun if some sticky-fingered ne’er-do-well caught her being inattentive with her belongings or coinpurse.

As she produced a few coins from said purse, Miiya grinned to herself. Or maybe it wouldn’t. She thought to herself as she took a short-ish pull from the frothy stein the bartender had delivered. How long has it been since I’ve been in a real scrap? She wondered.

Long enough? Not long enough? Miiya wasn’t sure. It wasn’t that the diminutive birdgirl liked fighting ...it just… ya know, scratches that itch, sometimes. She pivoted on her stool such that she could put her elbows on the bar and lean back on their support, along with that of her close-folded wings. Fighting might be fun, getting my shu thieved will certainly not. She reminded herself, and threaded one foot through the strap of her satchel, just in case she got forgetful, and this place wasn’t as friendly as it seemed.

Looking left and right as she sipped her ale, Miiya took in nearby drinking companions, making eye contact with anyone who might be looking at her. Aerials were a fairly rare sight most the world over, and especially this far West--near the border of Ryken and The See. She expected she might be garnering some attention, and wanted to judge what flavor it was. She’d smile back at friendly or inquisitive glances, but might have a sharper look for anyone who seemed like they were appraising her. Her overall demeanor could be described as friendly, but also unabashed, and perhaps even bordering on bold--like a hawk or an eagle surveying the area from her perch.

A few patrons met her gaze, but most looked away quickly. Of the rest, she didn't see anyone who's eye she particularly wanted to catch, so Miiya turned her attention to her closest barmate, Netzir. She had entered too late to catch the beastman's name, so she made up a moniker of her own for him.

"What's up, fuzzball?" Miiya queried with a broad grin. "Nice weather we're having, ain't it?"

Shiki sat at the bar. Head down, nursing a pint. He reeked of stale beer, having been sat at the bar for most of the day. Putting coins on the counter every time his glass ran empty.
He let out a slight burp as he finished his latest pint. He slid the empty glass closer to the barman. He slid a couple coins over as well. Motioning with his hand for another. Shiki McNamara’s hair and robes were disheveled. Giving him the appearance of just another drunk. To the untrained observer, he looked like a bum who had given up on life. However, if you really knew what you were looking for, you might be able to notice, maybe Shiki wasn’t as drunk as he let on. If you were exceptionally sharp you might even notice he eyes carefully surveying everyone as the entered, and his careful listening of each conversation. You might even catch a glimpse of throwing knife hidden within the folds of his robes.

@Irihi
Netzir was not drinking the water he had requested, but rather swirling it in circles as if to create a whirlpool. This was what his focus was on until the Aerial had sat next to him, to which he glanced towards them while continuing to circulate the glass.
"Indeed, always refreshing to have a light drizzle. Oh, and it's 'fuzzball supreme' to you." He responded with slyness, trying to match your sarcasm. But he was also intrigued about your intent in being here.
"So, is it the lovely weather or the sociable atmosphere that made you come in?"

Marrion

The task to infiltrate the general society was quite unnerving even for Marrion. After the blessing that let her pass the black orb, she still wasn't sure she would be able to blend in so she made sure to carefully watch and mimic the behavior of normal everyday people.

Marrion was walking on the rainy street in Arborhaven. Her black cloak was in constant battle between getting billowed by the strom wind or getting pelted down by the harsh rain. Tied to her back was an object wrapped in bandage, something slightly bigger than Marion herself and shaped like a human folded in fetal position. Once she noticed the local had been going into a particular building, she decided to follow suit. Before she entered though, the singing of the man and his lute caught her attention. The lyrics evoked something within her, although she wasn't sure what. She decided to listen to the singing and copied the blue-furred beastmen that came before her by giving him a few lumps of amber-colored crystals. It wasn't currency or anything though, it was candy. Dense, nutritious honey crystals made by the bees of the hive.

"How do we know whether our will is free or not?" She asked the man. Her voice had a slight echo as it bounced off her wooden mask.

@Moonberry

[url=iwakuroleplay.com/threads/irihis-char…]
[Center] Miiya Aether
[/url]

Miiya’s smile grew broader at @carsOwO Netzir’s turn of phrase, and she laughed at his self-appointed title. “That’s a good one!” Her eyes sparkled with genuine mirth, and she found she instantly liked her impromptu blue-hued drinking companion. He seemed much more fun than the disheveled drunk to her right. Miiya was not on guard against anything worse than pickpockets, so her cursory glance at @Sanity43217 Shiki missed the subtle signs that he wasn’t just another lush looking for joy at the bottom of his cup.

Turning to her left to face the beastkin, Miiya gave him her answer. “The weather, most definitely, but seems like the socializing ain’t bad either.” Her voice and demeanor were open and friendly as she introduced herself. “I’m Miiya, and I’m pleased to meet yew, Yer Supreme fuzzyness.” She twitched a little, giving the impression of a mock bow without having to put too much effort into it. She’d give Netzir a moment to reciprocate with his own introduction, though there was more than a passing chance that she’d be sticking with “Fuzzball Supreme”.

“I was flying West when I ran into this storm.” Miiya gestured to the rain lashing the tavern’s windows. “Looks like I’m grounded for the evening.” She took another sip of her ale. Miiya wasn’t far into her stein, but she was already feeling the effects as the start of a pleasant buzz. The Aerial’s rapid metabolism and circulation pushed the alcohol through her veins. This is a pleasant way to rehydrate she thought to herself.

Hearing the quiet thump of the barkeep setting out a bowl of this evening’s stew, Miiya turned all the way around and picked up her spoon. “Alright! Thanks!” she said to the bartender, though they had already moved on to another customer. Blowing on the steaming lumps of meat, tubers, and thick broth, she posed a question to Netzir. “This smells great; yew had supper yet? The grub here any good?” she queried him as to what she should expect once she dug in. “Not that I’m sending it back, either way; I was getting low on fuel, and I’m not gonna go back out in that,” she gestured with the laden spoon toward the door of the tavern, “to hunt around for better.”

If Netzir proved amiable to further conversation, Miiya would make more of it, mostly focused on getting to know him. Was he from around here? What was the glowy bit on his shoulder? Was he some sort of mage? What did he do for work? Eventually she got around to asking his reason for being in the tavern--and Arborhaven, for that matter--if he had indicated he wasn’t a local. None of Miiya’s questions were particularly probing, and she wouldn’t press Netzir if he declined to speak on any particulars.

The birdgirl, herself, would openly share her own lore, prompted by Netzir’s questions or volunteered, following the lines of her own inquiries: Miiya was originally from Ryke but she had visited Arborhaven before, she didn’t have a single iota of magical aptitude, she’d had a lot of jobs.

Here, check this out.” Miiya had started eating, but she paused and set her spoon down for a moment. Unsnapping her jacket, she pulled down the neckline of the gambeson vest beneath, exposing a tatoo of a small blue swallow on her collarbone. “Six thousand miles sailed.” she explained. Though it had been a few years since she served on the Whale King, Miiya was still proud of her accomplishments aboard, and she tended to take any opportunity to show off her nautical tattoos.



If Netzir hadn’t realized by now, he would likely soon recognize that Miiya was something of a chatterbox--especially when she was feeling comfortable and had, now, half a pint in her. The Aerial had the unique ability--whether by physiology, or simply just practice--to inhale food, drink, breath, and still talk without pausing. In the time it had taken to make introductions, ask her questions, and detail a little of her own background, the Aerial woman had already made it through two of her three bowls of stew, and was starting on the third.

Along with her powerful aviator’s heart, Miiya had a lot of lung capacity--and a set of pipes to match. She wasn’t employing even a fraction of the volume she could hit, but neither was she particularly quiet. Anyone eavesdropping--or just nearby--would be treated to the bits of her life story that she was amiably oversharing.

@Irihi
Netzir twirls shards of iridescent crystal in his furry hands. Then, with a flick of his wrist, they turn into an imitation of a swan, which flies into his glass of water and gracefully floats on the water's surface. Despite his hands being occupied, he dedicates his mind to the winged lady speaking.
"For as much as you talk, you sure don't have a lot to say." He says with a cocky smile, before the crystal swan in his glass disippates and he takes a sip, sparkling specks fluttering with light as the water flows towards the drinker.
He speaks again after setting down his glass.
"I am Netzir. I will tell you what you may wish to know, and as much as I see fit to share. These crystals are all part of a being which has bound itself to me; in essence, we are an extension of each other. It navigates the world through me, and I help others with their problems through it."

The inn’s common room glowed dim and golden, firelight crackling low in the hearth as the storm hurled itself against the shutters. The windows rattled with every gust, but the warmth within held. The air was thick with the smells of roasted meat, damp wool, and the sharp tang of pine resin burning on the logs.

Conversation ebbed and flowed in pockets. Locals kept their voices hushed, shoulders hunched as if to make themselves smaller. A few wore small charms pinned to their collars or dangling from cords at their throats or wrists—five pointed stars, upside down, each wrapped in thorns.

Behind the bar, the innkeeper polished a tankard that was already clean, his eyes flicking often to the door as though expecting something grim to come through it. The storm had driven everyone who belonged here inside hours ago; only strangers arrived this late.

The door banged open with a clap of wind and rain.

A girl stood in the threshold, framed in lightning flash—pale-skinned with a warm brown spot like a splash of paint across one eye. Floppy brown ears twitched through her damp hair, and a bushy tail flicked behind her as she stepped in, shutting the door on the gale. Water beaded on the rim of her round shield and the edge of her sword’s scabbard, her gear clearly new but well-kept.

Bright-eyed, she drew herself up straight and beamed.

“Good evening! I’m Juniper Larkspur, registered with the Adventurers Guild here in Ryke,” she announced, voice ringing clear above the low murmur. “I’m here to help find the missing people!”

Silence answered her.

A dozen heads turned her way, but none spoke. The locals’ eyes slid from her earnest grin to one another, then down to their cups. The fire popped loudly. Somewhere, someone coughed. The innkeeper only stared for a long, slow moment, then set down then set down the tankard and said flatly,

"Food or a room, girl?’”

The bright-eyed adventurer blinked, her smile faltering only for a heartbeat.
“Oh—both, please. If that’s alright.”

The innkeeper gave a grunt and reached for a bowl. “Coin first.”

She fumbled for her purse, dripping rain onto the boards. A few of the locals turned back to their drinks, though not before giving her sidelong looks—wariness, and perhaps something colder. The silver star charms at their throats caught the firelight as they moved, threads black as soot.

The bartender set the steaming bowl and a half-loaf down with a dull thump. “Sit. Eat. Talking comes after.” His eyes flicked toward the others at the bar—Netzir swirling his water, Miiya with her wings drying by the fire, Shiki hunched and quiet.

“Looks like you’ve got company enough if you’re looking to chat,” he added dryly, sliding her the bowl.

She did as she was told, taking a seat and sniffing the food, seeming pleased by the scent. Her ears and tail twitched with small bursts of motion as she picked up the spoon. After a moment, she glanced around at the others who had gathered near the bar.
“So ah… is anyone else here for the Adventurers’ Guild?” she asked timidly. Her green eyes sparkled with the wide innocence of someone on their very first contract.

A moment later, the front door swung open again, letting in a gust of rain and thunder.

The bard from outside swept in, his colorfully patched cloak swirling around him as he made his entrance. Water dripped from the hem, leaving bright speckles on the boards. He looked around the inn, the corners of his gray-blue eyes crinkling with easy mirth, before striding to the bar.

“Another lovely evening, Ben.” His voice was warm, jovial, and carried even without much volume. It had a timbre to it that drew ears without trying, and more than a few heads turned despite themselves.

The bartender only let out a long sigh and shrugged. “If you say so, Reed.”

“Storm’s only water,” Reed said lightly, unfastening the top clasp of his cloak. “Can’t let it sour the spirit.”

He turned to look at the gathered and lifted his voice. "Say! Who wants to hear a song?"

Mentions: @Moonberry @carsOwO @Sanity43217

“Meh.” Miiya replied to Netzir’s snarky comment, her lips twisting into an expression of someone who’s just bitten into something unexpectedly sour. Oh, so he’s one of those kinds of mage. she thought to herself, settling down from her monologued expose of her life’s story while the blue-furred beastkin began playing chess with his glowy familiar--or whatever it is. It takes all types. Miiya reminded herself, wryly, and decided to seek out a more conversational drinking companion.

No sooner had she turned away from Netzir than another beastkin gusted into the tavern. This one seemed a fresh-faced adventurer, announcing herself as one “Juniper Larkspur” and immediately stating her business to the entire tavern. Miiya favored the girl with a friendly smile; quite a different reaction from most of the locals, who were either studiously ignoring her or shooting her various flavors of unfriendly glares.

Poor kid, was Miiya’s first thought as the girl visibly wilted in the silence. “Hiya, Juniper! My name’s Miiya!” It wasn’t in the birdgirl’s nature to stay quiet and enjoy the repercussions of a well-intentioned faux pas. Grabbing her last (for now) refill of tonight’s stew, and leaving behind a nice tip, Miiya shoved off from her seat between Shiki and Netzir, heading for the newcomer. “Talking can come before, during, and after.” She countered the barkeep’s assertion with her own, adding a bright grin (dimmed only by a bit of bay leaf stuck between her teeth) to soften her words.

The ale was making Miiya feel gregarious, and giving her the liquid courage to practically drag Ms Larkspur with her to a pair of empty stools, ushering the bright-eyed young beastkin to sit next to the silent Shiki, while Miiya, herself took the stool to the right. As she had asserted, so did she demonstrate; plowing into her third bowl with gusto while at the same time quizzing the newcomer. “I’m not with the guild. Are you?.” Miiya replied to Juniper’s general inquiry about anyone being from the Adventurer’s Guild. “What’s this about finding missing people? Are yew working a contract?” the birdgirl guessed.

While waiting for Juniper’s reply, Miiya watched the scene unfolding between the barkeeper, bard, and Netzir. Indeed, Miiya did want to hear a song, and she’d been ready to make a request before the mage spoke up. “More like those crystals are made of pure mystical bullshu!”” she scoffed to Juniper in a conspiratorial whisper. Miiya had busked her own share of street corners and dusky taverns. More than one magicker had made a big show of “donating” mana-conjured baubles or coin--only for Miiya to discover that the “payment” had evaporated to nothingness after the mage departed. She had no evidence that Netzir was so cheating the musician but, since she was still feeling a bit salty at his dismissiveness, she decided there wasn’t any harm in a little secret sniping. ”What do you think? Is he just a furry blue blowhard?” she asked with a quiet snicker.

Marrion

Marrion entered the tavern tailing after the bard. Her three eyes looked at three different directions as she tried to decide what to do next. To start with, maybe she can inquire about the guild mission that she heard from the outside. She wasn't actually coming to this town for it but she heard anyone can became adventurer as long as they didn't alert the black orb, even someone with questionable background like her.

"We are here for the guild." She said to Juniper. Marrion's eyes were staring at the adventurer, except the middle one, that one glanced at the winged individual besides her instead, or rather at the stew on her hands. Tavern for gathering, lodging, eating and drinking. It would be suspicious if she just barged here to talk about job so she shifted her attention to the bartender.

"Do you have brains?" She asked, though she soon realized that she must had phrased it wrong.

"Correction, do you serve any dish made with brains? If not then just give us the same thing as that one." She pointed at the drink in front of the slumped Shiki.

“Juniper, I’ve done a mission or two for Guild.” The drunk said as he swiveled on his chair. He nearly spilled his drink as he clumsily rose to his feet. He took a swig, where more of the beer ended up on his robes and down his chest then he actually swallowed. “And I am almost definitely in need of some more coin.”
He extended a hand for a handshake to the other adventurers. “Shiki. Shiki McNamara.”

The common room seemed to ripple with unease as the adventurers revealed themselves one by one. Netzir’s crystal chessboard drew wary stares from a few locals—glassy-eyed, their charms glinting in the firelight as they shrank from the strange display.

The innkeeper only snorted, unimpressed. “If you’re playing with yourself, at least don’t clutter my bar with shards.”

Reed, however, leaned his elbows on the counter and gave a warm chuckle. “Pure magical energy, is it? Well, if your crystals can light a song in the heart the way coin fills a purse, then perhaps they’ll buy me a tune yet.” His grin lingered, amused but not dismissive.

Miiya’s loud, good-natured welcome to the wide-eyed Juniper drew a few sidelong looks—sharp, unfriendly ones from locals who preferred silence. But Juniper’s tail swished happily as she returned the greeting. “I am with the Guild, yes! And… yes, it’s a contract. Missing people, all over. That’s what I’ve come to help with.” Her green eyes gleamed, grateful to not be standing alone in the hush.

She blinked at Miiya’s whispered comment about Netzir and stifled a giggle behind her spoon. “I… I don’t know. But thank you for the warning.”

When Marrion’s echoing voice carried across the room, several of the coin-wearers visibly stiffened. Their dreary eyes fixed on her for a heartbeat too long before sliding away. The innkeeper froze mid-polish at the odd request, blinking once. “Brains? No. Stew or bread. That’s it.” His tone was flat, almost scolding, but he shoved a bowl forward all the same.

Reed tilted his head toward her with a smile. “Now there’s a palate unafraid of storms. Or of kitchens.”

Shiki’s clumsy rise from his stool drew a ripple of chuckles from a nearby table, though they died quickly when he named the Guild. The young adventurer brightened at once. “Oh! Another! I knew I couldn’t be the only one.” She clasped his offered hand eagerly, though the contact left her with a streak of spilled ale across her gauntlet.

The innkeeper gave a dreary snort. “Guild sends green pups and drunkards. A wonder the missing folk aren’t doubled by now.”

Juniper’s ears drooped at that, but she held her spoon firm. Reed only smiled, shaking a few drops from his cloak as he leaned forward on his stool.

“Well… at least someone’s looking.” His voice was warm, but it carried. “It’s always a sad day when a person doesn’t come back home.”

The fire popped, and in that pause his smile softened, shaded with memory.

“I’ve wandered through Arborhaven more times than I can count,” he went on, eyes drifting to the posters nailed by the hearth. “Faces become familiar when you ramble as long as I have. Some of those I knew are hanging on that wall now, charcoal smudges where laughter used to be.”

He tapped a finger lightly against the bar, shaking his head. “What troubles me isn’t the storm, nor the forest, nor even the shadows. It’s how little folk here seem to care. Forgetting’s too easy. And that’s the real danger—when a person can vanish, and the world carries on as though they’d never lived at all.”

A few of the coin-wearers hunched further over their cups, avoiding his gaze. One muttered something indistinct and drained his mug. The storm pressed against the shutters again, thunder growling low like a beast pacing outside.

Miiya Aether
Mentions: @spoiled bread @Sanity43217 @Moonberry @carsOwO

Miiya’s smile broadened at the wags of Juniper’s tail. She hadn’t met many doglike beastkin, and found that the wagging tail was just as cute when attached to a humanoid as a true canine. “Well alright then.” She thought for a moment as Juniper greeted Shiki and Reed spoke about the missing persons. “Say; that contract got any room for more retainers? I’m not a Guild member, but I’ve worked independent security contracts.” she asserted. “If yer searching for people, places, or things, yew’ll do better with an Aerial scout on yer side.” Miiya proposed.

The birdgirl did not have anywhere in particular she needed to be at the moment. She’d been heading West with the vague notion of finding work in The See. Though Miiya wasn’t the biggest fan of magic--and most fae were pretty magic--she had decided she couldn’t keep avoiding the large and diverse lands and cities of The See. This being the edge of fae territory, and Juniper’s mission sounding a little magic made Miiya think this might be a good chance at getting her feet wet.

It was a good thing Miiya was not biased against nonhumans, because the woman that appeared next was about as innon-human as humanoids came. Between asking for food made of brains--Like… human brains? Miiya wondered--and looking in three different directions at once, Marrion was weirdness incarnate. Well… Viv was pretty bizarre too, before I got to know her. Miiya counseled herself. She wanted to make a good impression on a potential employer, and that meant acting open-minded. “The stew’s not bad.” She encouraged Marrion. ”For being, ya know, brain-free,” she grinned.

Miiya listened to Reed’s recounting of his recent experiences in Arborhaven. “Yeah, they do seem like a bunch of withdrawn sourpusses.” Miiya agreed loudly, watching the nearby patrons flinch and grip their talismans at every little disturbance--especially anything lively or loud. She didn’t like the continual sidelong glances and mutters. In her experience, those could lead to groups of malcontents ginning up the courage to try some cloak-and-dagger shu. She figured it was better to confront such nastiness head-on and either chase away, or expose any wicked intent, rather than have some coward try to slip a dirk in you when your guard was down.

When Netzir blew up one of his magic chess pieces and then transformed its shards into a shower of sparkly dust, she decided to seize the opportunity. Miiya slipped off her barstool, leaving behind her emptied bowl and tankard. Picking out the grumpiest of the nearby patrons, who seemed to have the most to plot say (under his breath), she leaned down and threw an arm around the seated man’s shoulders. “I agree, friend! That WAS quite the show!” Miiya said loudly, pointing to the sparkles with her free hand. “Yew wanna share those compliments yer muttering with our magician here?” The birdgirl wasn’t large, but there was a surprising [strength A] in her grip, and the friendly arm around the patron’s shoulders wasn’t. In fact, it felt like it could quickly turn into a sleeper hold if the man wasn’t sufficiently compliant and complimentary.

Marrion

Marrion stared at the stew the bartender gave her. It looks like those slimes the nursing ants fed to the larvaes. Still, pushed by Miiya's encouragement she would at least try it. Besides, it would be suspicious if she didn't eat this as this stew was what everyone here seems to eat.

"Thank you for the meal." Marrion pulled down the bottom jaw of her mask, creating a small opening where the mouth should be. Ideally she should put down her mask so she could devour the meal as fast and efficiently as possible, but there's no way she would reveal her actual insectoid face in this place. So for now she must be satisfied with slowly eating the stew, awkwardly thrusting the stew-filled spoon into the mask's opening, slurping the stew and then pulled the stone back out.

"The best stew we ever had." She commented flatly as she continued her meal. Technically this would be the only stew she ever eat so far so she wasn't even lying.

Listening to the others speaking about the disappearances, Marrion must restrain herself from commenting about how unimportant a few lives would be in the grand scheme of things. She hadn't forget that she was supposed to be building rapport here. Instead she choose to just listen silently to the conversation, slurping her stew, all while trying picking up what the locals might talk with each other in their whispers.

Action:
1) Use Heightened Sense - Hearing F to eavesdrop the locals

The tavern’s warmth flickered uneasy in the wake of Netzir’s glittering theatrics. A few locals gasped when the shards pierced the ceiling, but when they dissolved into a fall of dust, most only hunched deeper into their seats, muttering. One man near the hearth tugged his star-charm tighter against his throat, his lips moving in a hollow murmur.

The bartender slammed his rag onto the counter, glaring. “You’ll pay for repairs if that left so much as a dent, beastman. I’ve no patience for turning my inn into a carnival.”

Reed, though dripping wet, only laughed. “Better dust than splinters, eh Ben? Though I’d wager your rafters don’t thank him either.” He turned a smile on Netzir, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Pretty tricks, friend. But Arborhaven doesn’t need gilding—what it needs is remembering.”

Juniper, sitting upright despite the weight of the room’s stares, nodded earnestly to Miiya’s offer. “Oh, yes! Please. I’d be glad of a scout—Guild contracts don’t forbid working with independents. We’ll need all the help we can get.” Her tail wagged once, defiant against the dreariness.

The man Miiya had collared stiffened, his eyes darting to her and then to the glittering shards above. His shoulders bunched, but her grip made sure he stayed seated. His lips pressed thin, but at last he croaked, “…showy mage’ll get himself killed out there. Not that anyone cares…”

Reed’s gaze sharpened. “What do you mean by that, friend? Killed where?”

The man flinched, his eyes cutting to the door, then to the hearth where the missing posters fluttered in the draft. He had no silver charm pinned to him—just a fraying cloak and a weary face.

“South road. And the river path. Folk go missing out there, aye. Travelers, farmers, even a Guild pair. But no one listens. Easier not to.”

The room hushed further, the storm outside a constant low roar against the shutters. A few of the charm-wearers twitched, their fingers brushing their talismans in unison, but said nothing.

Juniper leaned forward, eyes wide. “That’s exactly why I’m here! If people vanish on those roads, then that’s where we should start.” She glanced at the others gathered—the birdgirl, the insect-masked woman, the drunk swordsman, even Netzir with his conjured board. “Together, we can do it.”

Reed gave a low hum, rubbing his chin. “South road, river path… Aye. I’ve walked them both in brighter seasons. Too many shadows there now, it seems.” He glanced around the tavern, letting his words hang heavy. “And shadows only grow deeper when folk stop caring.”

The man under Miiya’s arm squirmed, muttering again. “Said too much already…”

The fire popped, sparks spiraling up the chimney. Outside, thunder growled, as though to underline the words.

Miiya Aether

Miiya released the patron from her friendly choke hold grip and straightened up, opening a little space between herself and the man, in case he should decide he wanted to take physical umbrage. “Hey, thanks for the tip, buddy!” The birdgirl had the feeling that the secrets flying around the drearier of the tavern’s occupants weren’t exactly the kind that got silenced with a dirk between the ribs, but it never hurt to be on guard, so that was how she’d stay as she sauntered back to her place beside Juniper.

Miiya gave Shiki’s proffered hand a squeeze and a shake as she returned to her seat. She tried not to direct the bit of sideeye she was feeling at the barfly. Is this drunkard actually gonna be of any use? she wondered.

Even a stumblebum could stop an arrow or make convenient monster bait in a pinch, she guessed, releasing Shiki’s hand and turning to Juniper. “Great! Well then, Juniper, yew’ve got yerself the services of Miiya’s AirCav. I’ve been looking to do some good deeds--and get paid for ‘em.” She smiled at the beastkin before directing her attention to Netzir. “Also known as ‘honest work’, yew might wanna try it sometime, magic man!” she razzed the mage.

Miiya’s tone wasn’t exactly kind, but neither was it vicious, angry, or dark like the attitude of the bartender and many of the others in the tavern. The smirk she directed at Netzir had a challenge in it. Foxy Loxy had got her attention with his showy parlor tricks. Even if he wasn’t the most friendly conversationalist, Miiya counted him among the more interesting of the bar’s patrons, and now it looked like they were going on a guild mission together. “So, yer magic good for anything besides interior decorating?” she asked.

“As for me,” Miiya directed her words mostly to Juniper, but included the group in general. “I’m an airborne cavalry scout; I can do reconnaissance and I can fight. She asserted.



When Miiya finished describing how her talents could be utilized, she waited to see if any of the others wanted to share their own abilities, strengths, or weaknesses. While she’d directly asked Netzir, the birdgirl was also interested in what the insectoid woman, human, and their caninoid leader brought to the table.

At least, I assume she’s leading us. Miiya looked to Juniper to see if the fresh-faced adventurer had any plans she wanted to share. It sounded like they were going to investigate the South Road, but Miiya hoped they weren’t planning on rushing out into the stormy evening. She’d been flying most of the day and was bushed. Further; the weather and darkness were going to keep her grounded if they set out right now.