Izurich
Lucid Dreaming
Theyra
THONK.
"Barkeep!" shouted a deep feminine voice from across the bar. A thick beer mug that had just been tossed ten feet with archer-like precision bounced harmlessly from Grom's head before crashing to the ground behind the bar. It's sturdiness was awe-inspiring, holding true to its form throughout the ordeal. The equally sturdy barkeep refused to offer the troublesome woman even a glance, at least until she continued to speak.
"While you were dealing in severed tongues with that elf, I ran out of drink!" Iskemia said, somewhat inebriated. She feigned holding a mug, wiggling the invisible handle around to emphasize her lack of booze. What followed had drawn the attention of the entire bar.
---
Iskemia found herself struggling to free herself from Grom's bear-like one-handed grasp. As much as she knew the trouble she was in, she couldn't help but laugh about it all the way from her chair to the cold street outside. Unceremoniously, the barkeep tossed Iskemia out and shut the door behind him without another word. Face down in the dirt, she let out one last chuckle before standing herself off and dusted away the grime. This wasn't the first time she'd been tossed out of the Black Wolf Tavern, but it was the first time she'd been thrown out specifically for the crime of throwing glass mugs at an employee. She'd come back in a week or two, and all would be forgiven. It wasn't like anyone ever stopped people at the door there anyways.
Her "fun quota" met, Iskemia exhaled out the last of her rambunctiousness with a corrective sigh and brought up her coat to wipe her face off. Mere weeks ago, she'd been dirt poor and out of work, striding into Priestella with a hopeful heart and confidence that someone, somewhere, would need exactly what she was selling.
As it turned out, with so many adventurer's guilds and the like choking the place up with an air of heroism, it came as no surprise that their number meant business was booming in the way of killing things. Most toted swords and axes and slayed the things that were nuisances to farmers more than anything else; a fresh face like herself was a fresh force against the things swords and axes couldn't just chop up into little pieces. Within days, Iskemia had made back a decent enough living situation, but all the same, had begun to see less and less requests turn up on her doorstep.
Fixing her hair, Iskemia strode down the street with a pep to her step. All she could do was wait until someone called her name. As she walked along, she came upon the very same "elf" she'd seen in the tavern moments before. In the darkness it seemed less clear, and she certainly wasn't paying too much attention to the details, but it was then apparent that the girl also toted some considerable horns.
"Say... you're that Eris girl I've heard about here and there, yea? I keep hearing things back and forth about you being or not being and elf... Which is it? Which rumor's the right one?" Iskemia asked with a chuckle. She bent forward and tapped her chin, as if appraising the oni girl.
