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Nicoline continued to peer out from around the wall she was hidden behind, her anxiety growing as more and more people began to gather near her friend. Luckily nothing had escalated yet, but the worried mage began to think of a plan. Perhaps creating some sort of distraction, allowing Tristan to escape in the hubris. The timid woman was deep in her musing when suddenly another voice drew her back to the present. A gruff, improper, feminine voice. Apparently the gathering group was gathering on the property of the tavern. Nicoline looked up towards the eaves of the building she was hiding behind. Well the sign hanging above the door should have been a dead give away.

For a moment Nicoline felt relief, this was the perfect excuse for the group to disperse, the mage could find Tristan a safe place to sleep and nothing bad would happen. Any relief that had begun to root was quickly squashed by Tristan's response to the woman. A response that forced a gasp out of the quiet woman's mouth.

The crudeness, the proposition. That was no way for a young man, a young lord, like Tristan to be responding to a woman. Nicoline had never seen her friend in such a light, acting like the men she strove to avoid on the streets. She felt a pit in she stomach for a moment, hoping that it was the alcohol in the young man's system causing him to act so poorly. But even that didn't comfort Nicoline, drunken words are sober thoughts and such.

Nicoline sighed, pulling the hood on she head closer to her body. She briefly considered hurrying off into the darkness, when the scene around the corner began to escalate, or at least began to heat up in a way that made Nicoline more nervous. The...crass...woman stepped out of the doorway and quickly shot down Tristan's offer. But what really could be a problem was the woman's verbal jab at his nether regions. The last thing Nicoline wanted was for Tristan to get upset and become violent.

With a deep breath, trying to quell her nerves, Nicoline again adjusted the hood over her face and stepped out from behind the building, quickly coming up to Tristan's side again. The mage spoke softly, mostly to Tristan.

"Come now, Mister Tristan, there is no need for this to continue..."

Nicoline looked up at the woman standing in the doorway of the bar, and nodded slightly when the girl requested the gathering party go elsewhere.

"Yes...that's a good idea. Mister Tristan, we should find you somewhere to spend the night..."


Vauclause...How did Nicoline find herself in Vauclause? A place known for cut purses and throats as well as women and children vanishing. be honest...almost everywhere held that same reputation. But Nicoline was not one to venture far from her home, er, well her 'home'. Home-less sounds more accurate, but at least she was more familiar with the streets there. But now she was in Vauclause, confused and worried, wrapped in cloaks and hoods to try and make herself an intimidating figure in the dimming light. The young woman didn't want attention called to herself, either from unlawful or lawful people. She was searching for her friend.

Yep, Tristan had been the deciding factor in traveling to Vauclause.

Living on the streets Nicoline was able to hear rumors, passed around with no concern for whatever vagrants might be listening. Did you hear? Tristan Baske was seen in Vauclause! The Bastard son of Seth and Laila I thought he was forced out of his home. I wonder if he carries much coin on him. I hear her attracts trouble, poor lad. After hearing these conversations pass through the lips of the locals Nicoline began to worry. She had not seen her friend in some time, and the thought of him falling into trouble was enough to make the fretted woman nearly hysterical. She would travel to Vauclause, and she would find him before some undesirable could.

And so, she went to Vauclause.

The streets here were...nice. Dangerous as any other street, but the feral cats were a nice change of pace. She had spent her first night on the streets of Vauclause sharing a blanket with two furry bundles of joy, she only hoped they did not pass any itchy vermin onto her. She had spent the majority of the day traveling the streets, not asking about Tristan but hoping to hear something about the man. And she was getting closer as the sun began to set, wrapping herself in cloaks to preserve precious body heat.

Nicoline walked silently through the streets, keeping her eyes cast downward towards the cobbled roads. No need to make eye contact with the dwindling passerby's. She watched as a little gray cat skittered by her feet, hurrying towards the outstretched hand of of a young man. It seemed the man was feeding the stray. For a moment her empty stomach ached, and she wished for a moment she was a cat. No fear of kidnappers, only chin scritches and free meat. Nicoline tore her eyes away, continuing her quest for her friend.

Eventually she spotted Tristan, who's face was twisted with seriousness and staring at...a leaf...

Nicoline began to approach her friend, the slightest hints of a smile at the edges of her lips. But the young mage noticed not only the bumps along his exposed arms, indicating cold, but also the scent of alcohol in the air. Nicoline sighed, he was likely too drunk to know he was cold. The girl walked over quietly, pulling a woolen scarf off of her neck and draping it around Tristan's shoulders.

"Mister Tristan, what are you doing outside so late? You'll catch your death of cold"

She wouldn't have time for a response from her inebriated friend, as the woman noticed someone approaching them. Panic rushed through her mind, thinking of every possible bad thing that could be happening. Kidnappers, thieves, mage hunters. Nicoline, in a moment of deeply imbedded fear, turned away from Tristan and hurried off the road, ducking behind a building. Once she felt sufficiently hidden she peeked out from behind the wall, hoping to not observe her friend being robbed. Instead she saw someone, the same man as before, the one who was feeding the cat. And he seemed to be...talking...not robbing her friend.
@Dragonbud We're just waiting on your CS and mine :)

Yeah sorry for the delay!! I’ve just been working non stop! I’ll see if I can post what I have tonight, the only thing that needs work is the back story
Aveline winced slightly at the way the Sheriff raised his voice, her ears ringing like a haunting of the gunshot that once ripped through her skull. She had been living in Selina long enough for the residents to know about her aversion to loud noises, not that many seemed to care. Aveline continued to smile as her tinnitus faded back to the dull buzz of noise around her. She wasn't a huge fan of the Sheriff's condescending way of referring to her, she had just snapped a man's nose back into place with her bare hands and he still had the guts to call her a good girl, but she had no voice to speak her complains. Instead, in a show of defiance, she just continued to smile.

The mute woman glanced around at the gathered visitors, who all seemed to be here because of Ghost Rock, she certainly hoped that leading them to Father O'Flanagan would be helpful for their adventure. She smiled, falling into her thoughts. In a way, it was like she was going on an adventure herself!

She suddenly became aware again that she was being expected to walk the stranger over to the church. Since none of them objected Aveline simply curtsied, gave a little wave to get the men's attention, and began the short walk over to the church. During the jaunt across down the mute women would glance over her shoulder, making sure the travelers were following. Once outside the church Aveline hurried up the stairs and began knocking on the wooden door. She lived in the church, and would normally have no issue with just walking in, but getting the attention of Father O'Flanagan would be another story.

While waiting for the Father, or another person inside the church, to answer the door, Aveline looked back at the other, smiling, before trying to rub the drying blood off her dress. The last thing she needed was Father O'Flanagan seeing her with blood on her clothes.
Checking in!

Still heavily leaning towards Mage, I love the Dragon Age vibe I get from them, but I might do some more character brainstorming. Bard is my favorite fantasy class of all time, and being a healer might be beneficial.
Yep yep you say?

(Which is my way of saying I am interested, i love me some fantasy and oppressed mages)
Aveline continued to examine the hurt man's face, helping him sit up against a wall so he would not suffocate on his own blood. Yeah...the busted nose was pretty bloody, but not unworkable. Behind her she would hear Sheriff Higgins questioning the travelers about why they were in Selina, as it was obvious that they had not come all this way just to assist the town with their big cat problem. But eventually this chatter just fell into background noise in her scattered head. Aveline rolled up her sleeves, flashing the injured man a smile that would hopefully reassure him that he was in good hands. She was about to get to work when she noticed movement out of the corner of her eye, one of the men was offering her a handkerchief. And while the man might have intended on it being used to clean the young woman's hands, she quickly interpreted this as a tool to help with the broken nose. Aveline smiled and tipped her head in thanks before turning back to her work.

Moving quickly, as to not give the man time to dread the pain, Aveline placed the handkerchief over the man's nose and twisted it quickly to the side, resetting it back to it's normal position with a sickening crack and pop. And while it would be rather painful, it should heal just fine, it would make the man's breathing easier than living out his days with a crushed nose. Aveline quickly wiped up the remaining blood with the handkerchief, picking a cup unidentified alcohol off a nearby table and offering it to the now recovering man.

Aveline stood up, trying to utilize the now blood soaked handkerchief to clean her hands, when she finally tuned back into the conversation around her. Something the Englishman mentioned suddenly flooded her mind with thoughts. Of the friend of Father O'Flanagan, the deceased miner Charles. If these people were looking for a strange ore, Father O'Flanagan might know something. Aveline quickly scanned the room for her small slate board and chalk, wiping her bloodied hands on her dress before hurrying over to it. She began to write out a quick message, glancing up at the travelers to make sure they did not leave.

When she was finished the mute woman moved over to the men, waving her hand slightly to get their attention. She turned the board around, and there written in clean handwriting reads:

"I might know someone who can tell you about someone who owns an active mine!"

Clearly not a clear message, or a well thought out one, but regardless Aveline looks up at the travelers expectantly.
I'm working on a post now! I had been camping this weekend!
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