Helo

Avalia

Time:10 am
Location: Outside Gakhumi’s Tavern - Ironhold
Interactions: Arn @Omni5876, Rue@Potter
Equipment: 1 hunting knife, a flask of alcohol, a backpack, small tent, blanket, waterskin, rope, fire starting kit, lightmaker, cooking pot, a bar of soap, some drugs; skaula (8 grams) and zemak (1 ounce), rolling papers, and 83 amas.

---

Bowyn nodded as Arn answered his questions with a lot of words that really didn’t help him understand what the dwarf was up to. Arn needed to meet with a princess, the rest of the dwarven army was not coming, and he wasn’t going to say why this meeting was important. Or maybe it wasn’t an important reason, maybe the dwarf fancied the elven princess. Bowyn chuckled to himself at that thought; if that was the case he doubted Arn had ever met an elf. Light elves were insufferable enough he could only imagine what their royals were like.

“You say a lot of words, Arn, some of them even make sense. Whatever you're up to, if it involves killin’ dark elves, I’m in.” Bowyn wasn’t interested in pulling secrets out of the dwarf, they seemed to be on the same side of a war and that was enough for now. Arn from the army who paid for drinks and never looked at Bowyn like was a broken thing. Bowyn decided that Arn was alright for talking to even if he was full of secrets.

Outside the tavern, everything was lit up by the harsh light of the sun. He could see the Helius’s from where they were, they looked like big overcrowded cages. Like death traps that could fall right out of the sky at any moment and he had no wings and only a backpack which wasn’t much use when falling. Bowyn said nothing about the unnatural flying death traps, he was not a coward and it wasn’t like he had any other real option. If he was alone he could go back to the forests, where there was space as far as you could see and freedom in all that space. But he was not alone and Arn seemed like he needed to get where he was going in a hurry. And forests were dangerous, and there was Rue. Rue would be alright if the Helius crashed, and that seemed like a good enough reason.

So Bowyn kept walking outside and paused to scratch Moony by the ears to say hello to the wolf. "Hey Moony, learn how to speak yet?" He teased the wolf, although if the animal did have a reply Bowyn couldn’t hear it. Hunting for food was a big part of surviving in the north and talking to animals seemed like an unnecessary complication. He gave the wolf a small smile before continuing to follow Arn. He turned to Rue, planning to ask if she had ever been in Helius before. Except that wasn’t what he asked, instead he blurted out the question he actually wanted to know. "Why did you leave the village?”

Avalia

Time: 10 am
Location: Port Vanarosa-The Ship
Interactions: Helio @princess, Barboda @Alivefalling, Éliane @Benzaiten, Lizzie @Tae and Tigerlily @Potter
Equipment: A cutlass, 2 knives and a dagger strategically hidden, a spyglass, a wayfinder, a pouch of amas, various jewelry, and an empty stomach.

---

Nym eyed up the parrot that Tigerlily carried upon her shoulder. It would offer no use to them, save for one, it did look rather plump. He got to thinking how it had been a while since he’d had a good meal and if he were a betting man, which he was, he’d wager it wouldn’t taste too much different from chicken. Éliane then went about fawning over the creature, calling it Knuckles of all things.

“Knuckles? Overpriced snack seems a more fittin’ name but even the feathered beasty ain’t gonna cause half the racket as that.” Nym spoke as the messy noise from Helio’s accordion reached his ears. While it seemed it would cause too much of a fuss if he were to eat the damn bird, perhaps later he’d be allowed to take a bite out of the damn noise machine. The crunch would be a lot more pleasing to the ears than what Helio was currently doing with it.

Nym shook his head and followed the others aboard the currently unmanned sailing vessel. She truly was a beautiful boat, and his boots made a heavenly sound as they clunked against the wood. Even the air smelled better aboard a ship like...was that roasted chicken? Nym’s stomach roared in excitement as the smell of a great feast cut through the briny air. He listened to the articles put forth by Captain Lizzie and found no quarrel with any of them. Even as he listened his nose picked out the different scents that wafted in, there was chicken, red meat, and fish.

“Got ‘round forty plus years sailing experience and ain’t a lick of it done without sweat on the brow. Yer terms are fair, Capt’n.” Nym said with a nod, although he would’ve likely agreed to any terms if it meant a seat at the feast he could smell. He followed Barboda until finally, he caught a sight that rivaled even the ship’s beauty. A fine spread of things to eat, and the bounty hunter had even gone as far as to decorate the table with the food that food eats. He eyed the salad with suspicion as he helped himself to a chicken leg, biting into the well-cooked offering, eating both soft flesh and crunchy bone with ease.

“Now this be my sort o’ bird.” Nym spoke as bone crunched between his teeth until nothing remained of the chicken leg he’d grabbed. He may not know much about Barboda but he was currently Nym’s favorite new crewmate. He also couldn’t help but wonder why the man seemed more interested in a fella in a cage than eating.

“Better than the grub on port, sure hope it ain’t poisoned.” He added. It occurred to him only after he had devoured a chicken leg that it might’ve been wiser to let another eat first given that the chef had chosen not to dine with them. Nym only licked the remnants of chicken from his fingers and decided there were worse ways to go.

“Got a name for this boat, Capt’n?”

Avalia

Time:The previous night
Location: Gakhumi’s Tavern - Ironhold
Interactions: Arn @Omni5876, Rue@Potter
Equipment: 1 hunting knife, a flask of alcohol, a backpack, small tent, blanket, waterskin, rope, fire starting kit, lightmaker, cooking pot, a bar of soap, some drugs; skaula (8 grams) and zemak (1 ounce), rolling papers, and 83 amas.

---

No, it wasn’t imagined. The distance lingered, vast and uncrossable. Was it him? Was this yet another thing that would always be different? No more perfect days, no more freedom of the sky, and uncrossable distances between him and those he’d felt close to. It felt true. Everything was different, he was different. Bowyn was glad that he had not had this realization in his own village. That he had not been surrounded by everything and everyone he knew when he realized that it would all feel so far away. He could feel the drugs waning, the world dulling in its vibrant colors, the euphoria ebbing into exhaustion. But from Rue and Arn he still felt the warmth of good company.

He kept his focus on Rue studying her, fixated on the sensation of distance. He was cold, and numb, and cracked. And Rue had a warm smile and kind eyes. That’s where the distance was, and he didn’t mind it if it meant Rue remained whole and unbroken, and on the other side of that distance. So he nodded when she talked and smiled as she mentioned Moony. It was an empty smile but he tried.

He also tried to think of an answer to Rue’s question, but he didn’t know exactly what Arn was talking about either. Bowyn hadn’t the faintest clue about how one went about meeting royalty.

“What makes you think either of us knows how to meet royalty?” Bowyn asked. “Or that we even need Biren welcome or permission for anything? Last I checked none of us are light elves and I certainly bow to no royals.” Bowyn took long gulps of what remained of his mead until it was gone. It was a terrible thing to leave a drink unfinished and it sounded like Arn was getting ready to go.

“I thought you were with the army here?” He asked looking at Arn who was certainly dressed like he was from the army and conducted himself with the sort of discipline that made that seem more true. He did not act like the dwarves from the mines, that much Bowyn had certainly noticed. So he had expected there would be marching and camping and traveling with other dwarves. Not a cramped Helius full of people hurling about in the sky with no way out. But even if traveling with Arn meant traveling in a most unnatural way, if Rue was going he was going too, and that he had already decided.

“Better not keep Moony waiting, we can all walk and talk at the same time.” Bowyn stumbled out of his seat as Arn paid for food and drinks and Rue had finished eating. He held the table for stability and kept himself from tumbling to the floor. He shifted the weight of his backpack until it sat as a comfortable weight upon his shoulders. It was easier to have the pack there, focus on it, and feel its weight as a distraction from what was not there.

Avalia

Time: 10am
Location: Gakhumi’s Tavern - Ironhold
Interactions: Arn @Omni5876, Rue@Potter
Equipment: 1 hunting knife, a flask of alcohol, a backpack, small tent, blanket, waterskin, rope, fire starting kit, light maker, cooking pot, a bar of soap, some drugs; skaula (8 grams) and zemak (1 ounce), rolling papers, and 83 amas.

---

Bowyn nodded and tried to listen to everything Arn said, he caught most of it. Arn from the army, that was good, he knew very well that dwarves knew how to hit hard. Even better than Arn being from the army, he also ordered more drinks. He had been paying close attention to the dwarves' words, trying not to focus on the way the man's beard moved as he spoke that Bowyn had not noticed another entering the tavern.

“You are excellent company, Arn.” Bowyn said as he smacked the table with appreciation.

"Fancy meeting you here."

A familiar voice. It had been a long time since he’d seen anyone from his own village, anyone he would call a friend. He was caught off guard, an immediate feeling washed over him. The same one he used to get back home when the first real day of winter came. The day where it was proper cold again when the first real snow arrived to coat the ground and everything about the world felt beautiful and serene. They didn’t have proper cold and perfect snow like that away from home, or maybe they did and he just couldn’t find the peace in that anymore.

For a second he smiled like a child does on a perfect day and then his happiness shifted into terror.

Why was Rue here? What was she doing so far from their village? The village was safe and the rest of Avalia was unforgiving. It chewed a person up, it hurt, and it took things that no one could ever heal or make right again.

He would not allow Avalia to do to Rue what it had done to him. He didn’t just know that like a thought, he felt it, in the same place that he felt the dangerous cold that wanted to steal the life from every dark elf. The part of him that felt like he could walk through fire and still be cold.

Everything in his head grew too loud to hear what Arn and Rue were saying. There was the cold, and the rage, and knowing that perfect days of winter now felt like nothing. and the fear, and deep dread that something awful could come close to someone he still cared about. There was no more euphoria; there was only a tavern with too many people and too much noise, and he was too far from the door and the outside.

Arn’s voice was calm and even, something grounding to focus on. But Arn wanted basic introductions, and Bowyn only found himself distracted by the strange feeling of distance he felt from Rue. His mind spun trying to figure it out. Was she mad at him? Annoyed? Disappointed that he was different? Or was it more than that? Was it just uncomfortable to be near him, a physical reminder of what many fae considered an unthinkable fate? Bowyn knew of worse fates.

Bowyn once had the kind of hope that overfilled its vessel, enough so that it flowed out of him and into everything he did. The world had not just simply poured his vessel empty, leaving only drops and remnants of what was once there and a vessel that longed to be filled again. It had shattered that vessel, broken that part of him that had ever dared to have hope. A vessel left in jagged pieces unable to hold shape, unable to contain anything. He had been reduced to shattered pieces with more things missing than just wings. There were worse things to lose than wings.

“Bowyn, winter fairy and provider of poor advice.” He said, addressing Arn first with a thankful nod as he gripped the new glass of mead. “If you're going to help the light elves, I wish to join.” Arn seemed more level header than most dwarves Bowyn had met. He seemed like he would be good company to travel with and Arn provided a calming energy that Bowyn appreciated.

“I know what you're thinking. Bowyn’s different.” He looked at Rue as he spoke, his fingers drummed lightly against the table as he thought. Then he snapped his fingers as if it had suddenly come to him. “He’s lost something. His wings, yes, but maybe something more as well. His mind? You wouldn’t be the first to think that. It comes and it goes and then it comes back again.” He spoke flippantly, gave a sad smile and casual shrug. Bowyn was not ashamed that he had changed. He had survived, and it had required him to sacrifice part of himself, but he would make sure that sacrifice was worth it.

“How are you?” He asked, his tone only soft and earnest now. He studied Rue, unsure if he had made things less uncomfortable or more so or if the strange distance had only been all in his head.

Avalia

Time: 10 am, Soller
Location: Alleyways in Roshmi City to The Nest
Interactions: Nabarra @nasty
Mentions:
Equipment: Sword, bow and arrows, small knife, wayfinder, fire kit, a pouch with 117 amas

---

“King Kasai? Oh likely sitting upon his throne with his head lost up his own ass.” Orias immediately responded with a smug chuckle as Nabarra asked what Roshmi’s king was doing. Then he paused for a second, overwhelmingly thankful to be wearing a mask as a look of complete disgust flashed over his face. That was exactly what his father would say. Did he really just say that? Had his own father’s voice just come out of his mouth. How absolutely horrific. Orias cleared his throat hoping that would rid him of the bad taste left in his mouth from the whole experience. I pray to all the gods I never live to see the day I become my father.

“King Kasai is not thought of highly in my kingdom. He has a reputation for favoring diplomacy to the point where many see him as a coward. My guess is that he would even let last night’s events slide to avoid dealing with a war. I could be wrong but I wouldn’t bet on a show of strength from that lot.” He paused as Nabarra seemed to be waiting for him to lead the way. The thought of giving his back to the dark elf still felt like a risk, but he knew he had to extend some trust towards Nabarra. He thought about her other question, about how to gain trust from others, and knew that if he didn’t appear to show the dark elf any trust, he could not expect others to do so.

He headed out of the alleyway, allowing the dark elf to follow behind him. The fact that he could never imagine his father doing such a thing certainly made the action more appealing. He had no idea how Nabarra could convince others to trust her, and he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to help with that. It was one thing for him to do a stupid thing, but to convince someone else to, when he could still very well be wrong about the dark elf was not a chance he wanted to take. He kept mostly quiet as he walked, not wanting others around to overhear anything.

“The only real way to earn anyone’s trust is to earn it. I guess we just have to hope The Nest has folks as foolish as -” A commotion was easily heard from outside The Nest. A small group was making a hasty exit, and a glimpse inside the tavern as the doors opened revealed quite the mess inside. Was there a food fight?

“Well this is definitely the best place to look.” He added, he really never should’ve doubted that this place would be full of people making questionable decisions.

Avalia

Time:The previous night
Location: A Tavern in Ironhold
Interactions: NPC
Equipment: 1 hunting knife, a flask of alcohol, a backpack, small tent, blanket, waterskin, rope, fire starting kit, lightmaker, cooking pot, a bar of soap, some drugs; skaula (8 grams) and zemak (1 ounce), rolling papers, and 150 amas.

---

A map of Avalia. Four figureheads bound and gagged. A hard and heavy rain. The map soon ran red with blood as the throats of the figureheads from each nation were slit with cold brutality. The dark and twisted faces of The Twin-Headed Dragon gave their speeches, they looked proud, they looked to be enjoying this.

The only word Bowyn heard from their lips was war.

So many of those around him reacted with horror, with anger at the dwarven prince meeting such an undignified end. Bowyn gave a small smile of relief.

“Finally.” He had waited for this, he had almost begun to think the rest of Avalia was going to keep on ignoring the dark elves, that he’d never get to live to see this war so many had whispered about. The world could not ignore this. He allowed himself a brief second of hope that the dark elves had finally brought their own end down upon themselves. That from every corner of Avalia, hearts would cry out for blood and vengeance just as loudly as his own did. He allowed all his joy to show upon his face, found so much solace in knowing he would no longer be alone in his rage. The emotion overwhelmed him and Bowyn didn’t know whether to laugh or weep. The crowd outside the tavern clearly believed he had chosen wrong as several heads snapped towards his direction.

“Are you fuck’n’ laughing?” The fist of an enraged dwarf hit him with all the strength of a hammer and he dropped his backpack of essentials to the floor with a thud. Bowyn found dwarves to be excellent company, and their tempers and willingness to fight was their finest quality. The sharp pain in his ribs was a welcomed addition to distract him from a pain that never left him. Deep, jagged scars on his back, where once there had been wings, provided a dulled burn that never left. Occasional aches from something that wasn’t even there to soothe. But new pain was a welcomed distraction. New pain left the old ones briefly forgotten.

The winter fairy provided no resistance as the dwarf landed several more blows. Each one seemed to hit a little harder than the last. He let himself live in nothing but the new pain for a moment before grabbing onto the dwarf's wrist and grasping it tightly.

“I don’t mock your prince’s death. I laugh at the death the dark elves have brought themselves. And that I finally get to see it.” Bowyn spoke, both haggard and amused, as his fingers left frostbitten spots where they dug into the dwarf’s skin.

“Idjit.” The dwarf spat at him and shoved Bowyn lose with little effort.

Bowyn only nodded in agreement as he picked himself up off the tavern floor and grabbed his pack. He licked the blood from his teeth before spitting it onto the floor. He held up his hands, accepting the defeat, and stumbled out of the tavern. Another great attribute of dwarves was their love of feasting and drinking; there were plenty of other taverns in Ironhold where he could spend the night that would not be filled with dwarves annoyed with him.

For the first time in a long while, Bowyn felt hope and joy that were not artificial but they were fleeting. He wanted those feelings to last a little longer, and even as he looked forward to war against the dark elves, he knew it would not be filled with moments like these. He ingested what remained of his klemara, the psychoactive substance would give him this euphoria for hours and he only wanted to relish in it.

His own private celebration continued as he headed to a tavern far enough away from this one. He healed himself just enough that nothing was seriously damaged or broken, but his skin would bruise and the pain remained. But new pain never felt like loss the way old pain did, it felt only like survival. Bowyn arrived at another tavern called Gukhumi just as the drugs started to kick in.

Time: 10 am
Location: Gukhumi’s Tavern-Ironhold
Interactions: Arn @Omni5876
Equipment: 1 hunting knife, a flask of alcohol, a backpack, small tent, blanket, waterskin, rope, fire starting kit, lightmaker, cooking pot, a bar of soap, some drugs; skaula (8 grams) and zemak (1 ounce), rolling papers, and 83 amas.

---

"Your eyes are pretty, all shiny like rubies.” Bowyn spoke in a slow, slurred, and barely interested voice.

“They’re green.” A dwarven woman replied with even less interest.

“Right, like green rubies. Hey, can I touch your beard?” Bowyn stared into the mess of textured hair, watching patterns that twisted and swirled together. All the different shades of brown and gold blended together and held his attention for far too long.

The female dwarf made a disapproving grunt as she looked him over. “Too smooth and skinny.” She shook her head at him as she left the bar.

Bowyn found himself briefly mesmerized by the movements of the wood grain on the bar. Patterns that grew and shrank and flowed together. He ran his hand against the rough wood for a time and then against his own smooth face. Fresh bruises stung as he touched them and he smiled a little at that. The comfortable sinking numbness of drugs that had yet to make their way out of his system left his skin buzzing.

Of all the cities and villages he’d visited he found he liked this one the best. The dwarves were pleasantly grumpy and refreshingly honest. That bearded lady was certainly right; he was too skinny and too smooth. He scratched at his face and wondered why he couldn’t grow a beard. And then he wondered what dwarf beards would feel like, probably like a sheep. After a lot of thought, he concluded that dwarves, unlike sheep, did not like being pet and that his face was smoother than the wooden bar.

He looked up from his intense study of the wood grain on the bar and suddenly remembered the mug of mead in front of him. He placed a hand around the cold, smooth glass and felt it frost around his hand. Bowyn liked ice, and it was often very smooth. He let out a quiet laugh to himself and felt much better as he drank a mouthful of the chilled mead. Still clutching the glass of mead he tumbled from his bar stool, nearly knocking it over, and walked around the bar.

Since arriving in Ironhold, the taverns were where he’d spent most of his time. Many hours of several days, and now many of the dwarven faces only looked like a vaguely familiar blend. He didn’t remember names, or whether he’d spoken with them, just the weird sensation that he’d seen most of them before. All his time in Ironhold was a jumbled blur. Except one face stood out, fully unfamiliar, a rather soft-looking beard, and full soldier gear resting near him. He headed towards the new face with a lopsided grin and sat, without invitation, across from the dwarf just catching his rhetorical question.

“I know what I’d say to Annya Biren. ‘Bout time the light elves got their shit together and took care of the problem they dumped on the rest of us.” Bowyn said with a nod before taking in several gulps of mead. He gazed into the empty glass, smile fading as he found it now contained only droplets of the mead. An empty feeling began creeping back into him as the effects of the drugs ebbed. He tried to ignore it, to cling to the artificial euphoria for just a while longer.

“You look dressed for war, are you going to join her? Can I come? Are you excited? I’m excited.” Bowyn said before slamming the empty mug onto the surface of the table. He then found himself briefly distracted by the dwarf’s nearby shield, forgetting all about his interest in the race’s beards. He wondered if he could touch the shield.

Avalia

Time: 10 am, Soller
Location: Alleyways in Roshmi City
Interactions: Nabarra @nasty
Mentions:
Equipment: Sword, bow and arrows, small knife, wayfinder, fire kit, a pouch with about 120 amas

---

Orias shrugged as Nabarra dismissed his suggestion of pretending to be some reptilian creature as too difficult. He would’ve figured passing for something cold-blooded and slimy would be second nature to a dark elf but held back on voicing that thought. Instead, he nodded along as Nabarra explained what to get, even in relaying a simple shopping list the dark elf’s language was coarse. What was it his parents had always said of dark elves? Ah, a most uncivilized and vulgar race. Probably the softest thing they'd ever spoken of dark elves. Personally, he could appreciate that Nabarra was direct and simple in the request.

“Cloak, long-sleeved, and a mask.” He repeated the instructions back as he caught the coin pouch tossed at him and headed out of the alleyway. Never in his life did he expect he’d end up the errand boy for a dark elf and now here he was with a shopping list, what a strange day. On his way to the tailor, he passed one of the many Odds and Ends shops littered through all of Avalia, well known for both their bargains and ease of finding all sorts of random items. Although there were no decent cloaks to be found, they had an assortment of masks that he quickly browsed through. He grabbed a pair of cat-like masks and exchanged 3 amas from Nabarro’s pouch and 3 from his own before leaving Odds and Ends.

The air was soft and warm, the pink glow of the sun beat down upon him, and made the walk towards the tailor a pleasant one. He chose the small shop of a tailor who made their garments in a simple but sturdy fashion. None of the extravagance that many of the newer shops indulged in, but much better suited for blending in. He wasted no time perusing, preferring to immediately locate the shopkeeper and explain exactly what he was looking for. He relayed what Nabarra had told him, leaving out the more colorful parts of her language, to a rabbit-like demihuman whose fur was graying around the face. A simple hooded cloak, with long flared sleeves, and a bit of fabric that hid the lower part of one’s face was easily found that was well within their budget. He paid the amas, thanked the shopkeeper, and went on his way.

It occurred to Orias how simple his errands were for him, how agreeable he found most shopkeepers, and how mundane his dealings with them were. As a light elf, he was simply assumed to be a decent citizen, not a character of suspicion amongst the demihuman city, and how even without any acts of aggression Nabarra would have the opposite assumptions made of her. He was glad he had not voiced his less than kind thoughts on dark elves being cold-blooded and slimy, it was likely that she would encounter enough of that in choosing to ally herself against her own people. As he returned to the alleyway that led towards the greenhouse he decided that if he was going to be aligning himself with this dark elf, and it seemed apparent that he was, he was going to have to do a better job of it.

“As requested, one cloak and one mask.” He said handing her the bag with a cloak inside, the feline mask painted black and white, and her only slightly lighter pouch of amas. “And well under budget, I might add.” Orias said as he slipped on the other feline mask, white with a black and green design painted on it. “Now we can look equally ridiculous enjoying ale in the most notorious tavern in the city while wearing cat masks. I’ll have to try and contain myself and not hiss at anyone.” This was certainly turning out to be a very strange day indeed.

Purchases with Nabarra’s amas
1 cloak-15 amas
1 mask (#2)-3 amas

Purchases with Orias’s amas
1 mask (#3)-3amas

Avalia

Time: 10 am, Soller
Location: Alleyways in Roshmi City
Interactions: Nabarra @nasty
Mentions:
Equipment: Sword, bow and arrows, small knife, wayfinder, fire kit, a pouch with about 120 amas

---

Orias only nodded as Nabarra spoke of an inability to start over, a truth he had not considered. This made sense, it was easier for him to change his name, hide his heritage, and simply pretend he was someone new. His past was not so inherently tied to his very race, while a dark elf would attract negative attention just about anywhere. But even what he did wasn’t really starting over, it erased nothing, he still carried all his failures, all he had done was remove himself from a position that would allow him to cause further harm. At the end of the day all that had changed was superficial; his appearance, his surroundings, his routine. He was the same coward, he hid and deceived, and struggled to find the light. And even the dark elf has more wisdom and clarity than I. It is no wonder why Solaris wills my magic to fester and rot away inside an unworthy vessel. His own thoughts sneaking in, drawing his attention away from much of what Nabarra said, but they seemed to be on the same page when it came to avoiding those who served the wishes of the crown.

Even sticking to the back alleyways that snaked and twisted through the city, Nabarra would easily draw attention from anyone they passed. Light and dark elves did not travel together, he would gain suspicion as well, and the last thing he wanted was people looking too closely. It would be much easier on his own, no one would pay any attention to a lone light elf minding his business. But that felt wrong, to leave someone in a city that would no doubt be hostile to them, and with little amas to spend on top of it. He managed a forced chuckle as she mentioned donning a beard and old clothes.

“Too bad you're much too tall to throw on a beard and pass for a dwarf. Cover the ears, wear a hood, and try and pass yourself as some reptilian demi?” He suggested. “I think between us we can cover a disguise and a few rounds. What are amas for if not spending? And improvising might lead to the loss of a hand or time in a cell. I can speak with the tailor if you wish” Orias unclipped his own pouch of amas and shook it, noting that it was getting light as well. He still found it strange to have to think about money, for most of his life it had always just been there. An easy solution to most problems, but accessing his bank accounts would make him trackable, and so they sat undisturbed.

Avalia

Time: 10 am, Soller
Location: Alleyway in Roshmi City
Interactions: Nabarra @nasty
Mentions:
Equipment: Sword, bow and arrows, small knife, wayfinder, fire kit, a pouch with about 120 amas

---

Orias continued to wait, eyes closely studying Nabarra, still finding it unsettling when blood-red eyes found it’s own. He thought of his grandfather, Saleh, a brave warrior slain by dark elf hands long before Orias was even born. He thought of Annya’s former husband, another elf slain through treachery, and of General Talindra, the knife that slit her throat and brought such an honorable life to such a brutal and unglorified end. Mostly though, he thought of himself as he waited for Nabarra to gather her possessions. He listened to her words, what they meant before he spoke.

“I imagine it took a lot, to leave what you knew behind, and start over. Last night has reopened many wounds, and I am sorry I have been less than welcoming. If your intentions are as you say, you have my respect.” Orias spoke slowly, his words chosen carefully, and spoken honestly. An apology that felt unfamiliar and bitter to his tongue, only reinforcing that it was the likely right thing to say. He could not return the sentiment of ‘nice to meet you,’ with any sincerity, while not exactly a welcomed stranger, Nabarra was nothing if not interesting.

“The tailor’s not far from here, a cloak should be an easy find. The Nest is a good spot for a drink and to find anyone looking for a fight. If anyone knows of a resistance force in this city they’ll likely be there, the king here is a notorious coward, so I’d expect little luck through official channels.” He added pointing out the way. He paused for a moment, before adding with a twitch of a smile and a lighter tone, “Maybe we can pick up a cane for you as well, to ensure you can keep up.” Orias gave a half-hearted attempt at a joke to lighten the mood.

Avalia

Time: 10 am
Location: Port Vanarosa-The Seagull
Interactions: Helio @princess, Barboda @Alivefalling, Éliane @Benzaiten, and Lizzie @Tae
Mentions: none
Equipment: A cutlass, 2 knives and a dagger strategically hidden, a spyglass, a wayfinder, pouch of amas, various jewelry, and a lack of rum.

---

Nym let out a deep laugh at the prince who had taken to calling him bastard. Long voyages were certainly made easier with a fool to provide entertainment, and a title like prince could easily prove useful. He did not expect hard work from a royal, they lived soft lives, didn’t know how to fight for every scrap they could get, but it was more than likely he’d at least know how to use that sword he carried. “And here I was ‘bout to get you drunk and leave you in a den of sin to be robbed. A lucky day for us both.” He whispered back to Helio. His attention was quickly drawn away from the entertaining Helio to the siren that had snuck upon him.

“As I’m sure ya’ve heard, war is what’s on the menu. A most exciting time for piracy, the land plunged into chaos, so many ships loaded up and ripe for plundering. Play these cards right and we shall all live fat as cats before this one’s settled.” Nym replied to Tigerlily, as she asked about food and rum. A twinkle in his eye as he thought of all the wealth about to be floating about in the seas. Something far more exciting than a single meal.

“Éliane, no great surprise that ya seem to know every one of interest where ever ya may be. Merely a traveler with skills worth boastin’ of and a talent with words. ‘Ere for a proper adventure I assume.” He added, as the elven woman introduced them to the captain and the well-armed man with a bucket on his head.

Nym eyed the woman introduced as the captain; a woman whose name nor deeds had ever reached his ears. A gamble, certainly, to sail under one with no recognizable reputation, but he liked to gamble. He had a good feeling about this one, and if he was wrong a poor captain was easy to replace. A ship as fine as the one Barboda pointed to, that was something to be proud of, well worth a risk. His attention shifted from sizing up the captain to staring longingly at the vessel as she rocked with the waves. She was fine craftsmanship, a true beauty; sleek, agile, and built for speed. Nym rarely loved people, but a proper boat built with care quickly found a place within his heart.

“Aye, Cap’n, I gotta good feeling about ya.“ He spoke with a nod though his eye was still fixed on the ship. More than ready to leave the shore, even as the others spoke of shopping. Barboda, on the other hand, seemed more than ready to get down to business, an admirable trait. The ship was fully stocked, more than ready to set sail.

“Let's get the cap’n sorted and leave this hunk o’ dirt behind.” Nym added, breaking his gaze from the ship and gesturing towards the Odds N Ends store that had been suggested.