Vox

The Darkness Encroaches

Putting a post down to show that I'm interested and just making sure that you're still accepting.

The Doors of Janus [ Malice / Vox ]

_{Lokkir Hrodvar Vardaskr
170cm ◆ 23 ◆ April 4th}

Trivia Info

◇ Received his scars when he tried to stop his eldest sister during the Burning of Etanclif
◇ Right eye was a prosthetic gift from a joint venture research effort of the new alliance; is now the proud owner of a golden yellow iris right alongside his natural aetheric purple
◇ Has the moniker of "White Terror" when together with Vedr
◇ Commanded an aeriel bombardment unit known as the "Ashclouds"
◇ Isolated himself from his soldiers during his time on the field
◇ Like the rest of his family save his mother, his natural hair color is white that he regularly dyes black
◇ Biologically female

Hudvalr Royal Family

◆ (49) ^King Thorbjorn Askel Vardaskr, the "Ash Guardian"
◆ (47) ^Queen Þorunn Asleif Vardaskr, the "Ash Tender"
◆ (28) ^{First Princess} Sanngrid Nefstein Vardaskr, the "Stone Valkyrie," or the "Stone Butcher"
◆ (26) ^{Second Princess} Sigrdrifa Valgard Vardaskr, the "Silent Skald"
◆ (24) ^{Third Princess} Alfi Halfdan Vardaskr, the "Pixie Princess"
◆ (19) ^{Fourth Princess} Hrist Aud Vardaskr

Royal Dragons

◆ Eldr, bonded to Thorbjorn
◆ ^(Deceased) Bal, bonded to Sanngrid
◆ Foss, bonded to Sigrdrifa
◆ Vedr, bonded to Lokkir
_{Fun fact, a flock of dragons is called a "calamity"}

Bonus Songs

◇ Liar
◇ Persecution
◇ Signals
◇ The Spine

The Doors of Janus [ Malice / Vox ]

_{Lokkir Hrodvar Vardaskr
First Prince of Hudvalr}

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For a day that was supposed to be one of rampant celebration and wanton jubilation, a day that was supposed to be one of the happiest of Lokkir's life, had been anything but. A momentous occasion to be sure, but to call it anything more would have been unjust.

The first problem had arisen early in the morning when the Glorious Brotherhood of Dragons of Paragon Askr in Hudvalr (or the Royal Dragonknights to those who spoke with any amount of common sense) had loudly announced the royal presence of the house Vardaskr to the entire town of Caenfleur, as they were often wont to do. Lokkir had advised not bringing along the Foppish Fraternity of Dragons of course, but seeing as how today was supposed to be the first official public gathering from both nations, his father, the king, had all but demanded so as a show of force. To be fair, it was supposed to be more as a reminder to those who still opposed the peace in the Kingdom of Hudvalr just who was still the highest authority in the land.

Regardless of whatever reason it may be however, the resulting panic that spread throughout Caenfleur should have surprised no one. Dragons were a rare sight in Hudvalr, rarer still if one did not live near the Royal Palace. In fact, the dragons who chose to ally with Hudvalr often only ever allowed the royal family to ride them (with very rare exceptions), so despite the name even the Pompous Party of Dragons could be seen more often riding with a company of wyverns than true, actual dragons. Thus the only ones who were actually used to a dragon's presence were either already riding in with them, or were more used to the death and destruction that were left in their wake. Considering the Treesong War had only just ended a scant eight months ago and the infamous Burning of Etanclif only two months prior to that, it was understandable then why the city below seemed to freeze before erupting like a drowning anthill with the sudden appearance of not just one, but three dragons alongside a veritable devastation of wyverns.

Luckily, important figures from both kingdoms had been slowly trickling in throughout the month, and with them usually were their own personal guards, many of whom being well-storied veterans of the recent conflict. Thus with the security put in place earlier in anticipation for the wedding and the help provided and led by the nobles already in the city, the situation was put under control before it further spiraled, which was further mollified by an earlier start to the donations of food and drink by the more altruistic merchants than was scheduled.

That still led to the streets being congested much earlier than expected, but in a different way. Of course, riding on a dragon allowed at least the royal family and their personal guard to avoid all of the traffic, but most of their retainers had to be left behind, as they had no choice but to go around the city and towards the manor that lay on its far outskirts.

And then no sooner had Lokkir's feet touched the ground was he whisked off deep inside the bowels of his new home in preparation for the rest of the day. Hair had to be done, bindings had to be set properly, clothes had to be organized, and an innumerable host of other issues had to be taken care of before the ceremonies could even start. Lokkir was thankful that at least the traditional Hudvalr wedding attire was loose and allowed for some breathing room, unlike all the tight clothing with all its belts and cinches that was steadily becoming the regular fashion lately. An influence from their new allies, and a reaction for all the fighting men who could fight no more perhaps, Lokkir mused, as his body was pulled this way and that.

The only respite he received was when he was thankfully allowed to at least put on his own undergarments. The only person who was in the room with him, and the only one of his sisters that dared speak to him despite their father's strict orders, was Alfi. She was the youngest of his elder sisters, being only a year older than him, though out of all their siblings she was the tallest. They stood silent for some time as she helped Lokkir tie everything into place until she asked the question that he had been anticipating the entire time: "So what are you going to tell her little Loki," she said flawlessly in the language of their new allies.

"I don't know yet, little Alfi. I shall move-, I will venture-, ... I'll decide when I reach that point," he replied in a much more accented tongue. She breathed a little huff, gave one last pull, and then turned him around to look at him with a critical eye. He could never meet her gaze whenever she did that.

And then she pulled him into a tight hug. "You'll always be family," she whispered in their native Hudvalri. Lokkir could only autonomously nod and give her a weak embrace in response before she pulled them away from each other. She gave him an affectionate tousle of his head that he swatted away with much less of his usual annoyance before she left.

After that, the nonstop preparations began once more.

Of course behind all this, the meetings between the two nations continued behind closed doors, the negotiations between them still nowhere to be finished. The king sometimes came in to check in on Lokkir and sometimes he'd be happy, other times he looked furious, but he always had a drink in hand. No different than the people already celebrating, Lokkir supposed.

Finally, at the zenith of the afternoon, with the sun burning high above them did the ceremonies begin. It had been decided that the two nations would hold two ceremonies so that each nation could observe their own customs, with each nation wearing their own traditional garb. The purpose was to promote cultural sharing between the two nations was the official reason, but really it was probably more because neither side really wanted to learn the other's traditions, with the only people expected to know being the bride and the groom, although the fact that it also allowed for double the reason to drink was probably a bigger contributor.

Lokkir for his part was dressed in a multicolored robe reaching down to his feet of layered reds, purples, yellows, and greens that represented his family history. Overlaid that was a loose black jacket, his hair similarly dyed to show purity and singular devotion. A single braid along his shaved scalp tied off with an aetheric ash bead served as one further reminder of his royal lineage. The ceremony itself mostly consisted of a recitation of vows and oaths, the tying of the knot, an aetheric light show to show the proof of the gods' favor, and ending off with a kiss. There was also the gift of the shawl, made with aether thread and dyed similarly to his robe and given to the bride to show that she was a part of his family now. All the guests had to do for the most part was to stand quietly, dress nicely (with most of the Hudvalr guests dressed in their furs), perhaps aid in the aetheric light show a bit, and then drink heavily afterward.

There was a brief respite allowed between the two ceremonies to allow for all the guests to relax and breathe before the next one started, though Lokkir remembered very little of what went on during the second ceremony.

What was memorable however was the after party. There was of course much fighting to be had with feats of strength and magic being a popular pastime for the Hudvalr, wrestling both with physical bodies and animated dolls being one of the most favored. There was also a number of fights to be had between the two nations that promised to be much less amicable, but luckily all of them were prevented before they could become an international incident. Between playing host and mediator and all the drinks that lay in between, it was a wonder that Lokkir and his new bride stayed on their feet as long as they did before everything started to slow down and everybody started retiring into the manor, the new couple not excluded.

However, there was still one last thing that Lokkir had to do with his bride before they could get their much-deserved rest. The king of Hudvalr likely wouldn't let him sleep otherwise unless he gave a satisfactory performance anyway, and Lokkir knew his little wyrmlings would be listening.

Still, it was something that he didn't look forward to, and it seemed his newfound bride was of like mind as they slowly padded their way through the manor. He took this time to try and appreciate the new manor in which they'd be living in, but the more he examined it the more uncomfortable he felt. The manor itself was large and spacious enough, true, but everything about the architecture just seemed to be... wrong. There were parts were he recognized and seemed almost familiar to him: the large sweeping hallways and doorways, the open space with the small intricate detailings, the spirit motifs and the stories carved into the wood. But then there were some parts that almost looked like if someone had reached into Lokkir's memory of what a building should look like and then tweaked it just a tiny bit to where it was still recognizable, but clearly not Hudvalr. There were some parts of the manor that seemed completely alien to Lokkir entirely.

What he disliked most of all however, was the energy that flowed through the building. It hummed yes, positively thrumming with power, that much was evident by how it lit and spread warmth throughout, but that was it. There was no life to it, no soul, no history to tell like the aether he wielded, that he practically swam in back in Hudvalr. The energy was like a homunculus, a pale imitation of the real object that could only follow strict orders and nothing outside of those.

The feeling stayed with him up all the way until the new couple reached the room, upon which it was replaced with an entirely different uncomfortable feeling. As Lokkir opened the door to let his new bride in, his sister's words flashed again inside his head as he walked in after his bride and closed the door, letting it slowly click into place. Taking a deep breath and only hesitating for just a moment more, in her native tongue he said "Before we do anything, I need to show you something. Don't say anything until I'm finished." And then almost as an afterthought, he added, "Please."

And then slowly, nervously, he began to strip off his clothing. One by one, the pieces began to fall down onto the floor until all that was left was his underwear, and the cloth that had covered his chest and held in his shame. Then that too, came off.

With arms wrapped tightly around his breasts as if still trying to hide them, and a gaze that would look at anywhere but his bride, it was then he realized just how cold it was inside their room.

Vox Box / Updated 10.08.22 / [ O P E N ]

Writing Samples

[Short Piece]

Personal Piece: 9.02.22

.
Flash.

Lightning.

Thunder.

Halone’s spears were hunting for him. Cadence knew this to be true, for why else would clear night skies suddenly turn black and become filled with roaring, writhing hounds if not to punish her favored son for abandoning his duty. Abandoning his calling.

But how could it have been his if another had already fulfilled it.

Over the roar of rain and thunder, the runaway dragoon could hear the braying of hunters behind them. While the Fury sought him from above, those of his former church - former cult - harried him with horses and hounds of their own. They hadn’t found him yet, but he knew it was mostly only a matter of time. The ties that still binded him, the magic inscribed into his soul which made his skin ache and scales itch demanded his return, hooked strings pulling him back into the church’s embrace.

Flashes of an embering fire on a snow-bitten night came unbidden as he settled into a bough of wet, saddened leaves. Laughter tickled his horns as spiced cider warmed his hands. Less so than the warmth in his core from the company around him, but a thing to hold onto nonetheless as cinnamon and cloves and apples coated his tongue.

‘You can be forgiven,’ a voice said. ‘You still have a role to play.’

They were bittersweet lies.

“Aurin! Where are you!” A voice called from the gloomy dark. Material this time. Physical. Real. No less of a threat than the rats which infested his mind.

The nickering of horses and the dull splatter of rained metal echoed in the dense storm.

“Aurin! You haven’t gotten drunk now have you?” The same voice, commanding, deep. A pang rang through Cadence’s chest as he recognized it. Then, quietly, off to the side, just barely audible over the thunder and noise. “Are you sure he’s here?”

“Yes, milord.” A figure wrapped in thick cloaks rode next to the armored figure leading the van. Clawed hands reached inside, pulling out an amulet that burned a menacing golden yellow. Funny how we once thought it to be so warm and bright, even as his scales tingled and his heartbeat drummed in his horns.

“Where is that blasted boy. Aurin! Whatever’s happened I’m sure we can fix it. Together.”

The small group continued walking. There were five of them in total. Aside from Jean and Isilian who lead the van, Isilian’s amulet still bright and burning in Cadence’s eyes, three guards were with them. Armed and armored in a fashion that spoke leagues over the honeyed words which spilled from Jean’s lips. It was to be expected, he supposed. Cadence had never been the greatest of actors; a pure heart emblazoned on his crest, Jean would always say. It mattered little in what he had to do.

Dravania had always been a holy land of sorts, an image of what once was and what could be again, had Cadence fulfilled his prophecy. Right now, however, it was simply a land that afforded the Au Ra simple reprieve from crackling snow. With the rain, parched trees already hung heavy with gluttonous weight, and so his passage was unnoticed as he positioned himself over the bright amulet, the burning light a beacon to the lost in a cold storm.

Cadence fell with a crack of thunder, his spear whirring to life as he twisted it into action. Jean had always been faster, however, and he kicked both his and Isilian’s horses into action, the beasts throwing themselves up in practiced panic as they bolted in opposite directions. That gave Cadence only a small window to dispatch the guards that had come with them. A task that would not prove to be easy as they were already bearing down on him, spears thrusting at him from three separate angles as they sought to quickly surround him.

Yet it was a situation that was oft thrust upon him in his training.

Instinct fueled his muscles and guided his bones as Cadence surged forward towards the closest assailant. The spearman stumbled back, not ready for the Au Ra’s sudden aggression, a mistake paid for in blood as Cadence’s heavy spear slipped underneath the man’s chin. A swift tug saw the corpse dislodged, its former owner already forgotten about as Cadence turned to face their other two foes. Already he could hear the horses galloping back, which would turn a difficult situation into an impossible one.

Cadence took in a deep breath, his tense aether mirroring its owner as he flicked his wrist, changing the tone of the subtle humming of his spear.

One count.

Two count.

Three.

An unceasing, roaring, burning fire surged from within him as a sun’s wrath coated him in golden scales. Steam hissed from his form as heat bubbled around him, the air shimmering and biting back at the rain which fell down upon the scene. Whether or not he was the Fury’s wrath made manifest, the power coursing through him was real enough, and it demanded satiation through one form or another. A deep hymn began to rise from Cadence’s chest, a steady beat to combat the monster within as he once again surged forward.

The remaining guards did their best as they landed strikes that drew blood in Cadence’s haste to finish the fight quickly. However, when a single thrust from a divine spear could melt away metal and flesh and bone alike, there was little they could do. Not that he had much time to celebrate as a blast of withering aether splashed against his back, the magical armor the only thing stopping his chest from caving in. As it stood, he’d only have some sore bruising to deal with tomorrow as Cadence turned to face the Dravanian mage.

“Traitor.”

Cadence could only nod, his hymn turning somber.

“Don’t mock me with that noise, you impure wretch!” Isilian raised the burning amulet high, a beacon for those who have lost their purpose. Ancient words unlocking ancient magicks made the beacon burn, Cadence’s blood burning with it as the Fury within him started to grow ever more hungry. The rage burned inside him, a conflagration consuming his aether in ever greater amounts in a fruitless attempt to satiate itself. It was a beast uncontrollable, a power unfathomable to wield for anyone not divinely selected for the task. A power that was going to kill him.

There was a rush, a galloping whomph as beast and flesh collided.

“Aurin! Stop, what are you doing!”

The pain hurt. It was to be expected when a warbeast weighing hundreds of ponze crashes into someone. But not as much as the look Jean gave him.

Cadence didn’t want to see it. Didn’t want to believe in it.

Instead he rose to his feet, the Fury still burning within him, the amulet still burning bright above like a cruel star. Cadence’s voice rose, his hymn reaching higher and higher as he hefted his spear and let it fly into the sun.

Vox Box / Updated 10.08.22 / [ O P E N ]

Welcome!

Thanks for clicking in! I'm a roleplayer who's been doing this for close to decade now with no sign of stopping anytime soon. Like many others I've done my time among IMs, MMOs, and tabletop gaming, but something about forum roleplays and this site in particular will always draw me back in. So here I am, hoping to create something wonderful with you

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Curious of my Current Cravings?
^{Updated 10/08/21}

Pairings [ MxF ] / [ MxM ] [ FxF ] / [ Platonic ]
Genres [ SoL ] / [ Any Fantasy ] / [ Action ] / [ Adventure ] / [ Science Fiction ] / [ Cyberpunk ]
Settings [ Space ] / [ Winter ] / [ Snow ] / [ Rain ] / [ Falling Leaves ]
Themes [ Loss ] / [ Perserverance ] / [ Hellpath Paved with Good Intentions ] / [ Pointless Frivolities ]

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Need to Know Info

◇ I like happy endings! That doesn't mean the journey there has to be happy though. Characters can kick, scream, be scarred, even die along the way and I'd be completely fine with that. Even if it's dim, as long as there's a light at the end of the tunnel anything goes.

◇ I try to post at least once a week, if not more. Like many of y'all, I live in meatspace and have meatspace duties, and as much as I enjoy roleplaying, it is nowhere near the highest on my list of priorities. That being said, I will try and do my best to always inform you if a post will be late, and I hope I can expect the same courtesy from you!

◇ I believe good roleplay comes from good communication. Plot with me, talk with me, gripe to me about the characters, bemoan the dumb choices and celebrate successes! In short, write a story with me! But also if you ever aren't feeling a roleplay, let me know. We can work things out, shift directions if need be, or failing that at least not be left wondering where the other person is. Of course I'm also a big hypocrite and have been guilty of this in the past so I won't mind if people ghost me, but I will try and strive to let you know if I'm ever not feeling a roleplay.

◇ Quality over quantity! I'm sure you're very tired of hearing this by now, but it's a point I like to make nonetheless. With every post, just give me something solid that I can respond and react to and I will always try and do the same for you.

◇ Male, female, non-binary, I'll play them all. I'm comfortable playing any and all characters necessary to drive a good story forward. That being said, lately I've taken a preference to playing female characters, and if given the chance that will usually be the choice for my given leads.

◇ Romance is not a necessity. That isn't to say that I don't like romance, I'm actually a big sucker for it, but just more that I'd much prefer it to be a natural consequence of compatible chemistry between characters rather than something that's forced to be in there just because we happen to only be playing two characters.

◇ I'm ok with smut. But usually if there are ever any sexual scenes, I prefer simple fade-to-blacks. I can indulge if you'd like to ask nicely.

◇ I am extremely uncomfortable with overt descriptions of violent acts. This includes things like torture, gore, and anything else that may lie in between. It can be implied, after all nothing is ever truly rainbows and sunshine, but once individual details start being gratuitously described I will quickly nope out.

◇ Green isn't actually my favorite color. Well, that's partly a lie. The true answer is that my favorite colors usually vary, but right now I've been preferring cool tones like blues, purples, and greens. PM me your favorite colors if you'd like, but there's no need to. Also if you read through all this, thanks much!

◇ Please don't post in this thread! I like to keep things neat if at all possible and would prefer any inquiries to be PMed. Thank you in advance!

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Plots and Prompts for your Perusal
^{Updated 10/08/22}

Fandoms

I dislike playing canon characters and will always choose to play OC in fandoms.

◇ Star Wars
◇ FFXIV
◇ Shadowrun
◇ Banner Saga
◇ Endless Legend
◇ Endless Space

Plots and Prompts

202

[ Melancholic ] [ SoL ]

Two people rooming together, sharing normal moments in extraordinary circumstances. What can go wrong?

A Life Renewed

[ Dark ] [ Melancholic ] [ Resurrection ] [ Second Chances ]

A life unjustly torn from the world finds itself returned once again with the aid of another. What purpose does their summoner hold, and what life will they live this second time around.

Knights & Nightmares: A Classic Dark Fantasy Adventure

Hey, I know I said I'd get a post up soon but I might be a bit more delayed as I'm trying to deal with my life at the moment. Unfortunately that means I can't give a clear ETA either.

With Rhiannon knocked out and Mortimer doing his big magics and helping her out, Caoimhe was going to do a quick sweep and run over to Rhiannon and see what she could do to patch up her wounds.

Knights & Nightmares: A Classic Dark Fantasy Adventure

waiting to see if @Void is in the process of writing a post, otherwise I'll likely have a post up by Sunday

Knights & Nightmares: A Classic Dark Fantasy Adventure

Caoimhe has some rudimentary medical knowledge, so she can try and patch up Rhiannon while Mortimer wards things up and holds all the baddies off for a bit.

@Nieszka@VoiD

The Endless Expanse

SETTING INFORMATION

The Divines

• Mera, Goddess of Life and Crafters, the Mother Divine
• Hedon, God of Life and Pleasure, the Father Divine
• Savo, Goddess of Death and Travelers, the Guide Divine
• Erastil, God of Civilization and Nature, the Shepherd Divine
• Menii, Goddess of Magic and Philosophers, the Gatekeeper Divine
• Xath, God of Protection and Secrets, the Guardian Divine
• Hesra, Goddess of Battle and Healers, the Maiden Divine
• Khor, God of Strategy and Fury, the Warrior Divine
• Rova (deceased), Deity of Prophecy and Eternity, the Prophet Divine
• Lovarn (deceased), Deity of Beginnings and Ends, the Lord Divine

Factions

The Imperium is counseled by Mera, Erastil, and Hesra. They are ruled by dual emperors, a visible and physical split between the political and religious factions headed by Mera and Erastil. Hesra is desperately trying to keep things together. If the Imperium actually unified, whether through mutual cooperation or complete domination between the counseling Divines, it stands a very good chance at dominating the galaxy. This is the declining civilization side of the setting.

Telwyr is counseled by Menii and Khor. They're ruled directly by their Divines as well as a small number of important families or corporations. In many ways Telwyr is a microcosm of galactic politics as a whole as while many in the council hate and subtly (and sometimes not so subtly) sabotage each other all the time, they're able to come together against outside threats because of their shared assholery and the belief that only the assholes can mess with other assholes. Collectively they're on the verge of discovering how to Fuck With Time or other suitably Bad Science Thing because what are ethics. This is the actual science fiction side of the of the setting

Paradise is ruled by Hedon and is like every dystopian novel all concentrated in one, single faction. Hedon is the biggest asshole and the closest thing this setting gets to a satanic figure. He's enigmatic, but eventually seeks to become the God instead of a god. The only thing that's stopping him is currently being more pleased with stopping the dystopian protagonist that seeks to take down the establishment every once in a while. This is the dystopian side of the setting.

Rusk is more a collective pirate faction being nurtured by Savo and Xath, though they're the most hands-off of all the Divines. They were initially the Australians of the galaxy, dregs of other societies sent to far off planets to see what range of environments sentients could live on which ultimately meant it was done for shits and giggles. Yet some of those colonies survived and thrived, eventually becoming a haven for refugees from the other factions. Like Telwyr they've banded against the larger galaxy out of convenience, but unlike Telwyr they're not united by any other greater force other than distrust and hatred of the other factions, and even then the other factions pay little mind to Rusk. This is the Western side of the setting.

Important Historical Notes and Events: Bullet Point Edition

• Rova kills Lovarn, Medir created/forced into a prison for Rova
• Lovarn's death signified the end of something. What exactly is hotly debated, though popular theories are: The end of the Age of Creation (Age where divines putzed about and made the galaxy, which stopped around Lovarn's death) or the end of the Divines
• Fae creatures immigrate to Medir because Archfey and draconic politics are a bitch to handle and also because some were kinda forced to. Lots of racism and tension still exists to the modern age because Faewyns didn't do much to ingratiate themselves with their host Medirans, and vice versa when Medir exploded and everybody had to seek refuge on Faewyn
• Rova escaped Medir, eventually causing the planet to blow up and kickstarting the Divine War, which ends with their public death by a mortal; mortal identity nebulous, always used to fit whatever narrative is being told
• Collective scientific force invent first practical FTL travel technology, rising Telwyr collective claims all credit with bullshit reason on how the tech was based on their mastery of portal technology
• Space Age starts, Paradise established, lots of other factions pop up, eventually Telwyr and the Imperium rise to the top
• Rusk founded as a by-product of shits-and-giggles colonial experimentation by Telwyr, Imperium, and Paradise

Knights & Nightmares: A Classic Dark Fantasy Adventure

Accept the inn request and head up the east road

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Cold.

No matter the time of season, that's what it always seemed to be in Naveroth. Not even the mug cupped in the elven woman's hands did anything to warm her up, weak as it was. Dreary as the place was though, there was history here. Beneath the bog swamps and gray pavements were stories of battles long gone, of other civilizations lost to time, of heroic deeds long forgotten. Even in dull town like Cullwath, the city constantly whispered its own history, the architecture weaving its own tale. One could literally walk the streets and see the different ages of the town, of the Empire.

Of course, all that traveling left Caoimhe dangerously low on funds. She was about to ask the innkeep for any jobs before that curious medicine man came in again. The two briefly talked, and Caoimhe managed to overhear about the situation with the mercenaries. She wasn't the best doctor and the job probably was more of the medicine man's speed, but the roads of Naveroth always remain dangerous despite the patrols. Perhaps she could at least offer protection services.

But then some commotion seemed to drag the doctor's attention outside before Caoimhe could even get up. From the sounds of it though, it seemed like another Black Beak altercation. There was some shouting, screaming, then the all-quiet sound of death.

Caoimhe wisely decided to finish her drink first before getting anywhere near that situation, though the last dregs were splashed against her shirt as someone "accidentally" knocked into her. She didn't deign to turn, though she could hear the snickering well enough, as well as a low muttered "knife-ear." The elven woman very carefully put her mug down and went upstairs to don her armor and gather her equipment. Once she went back down in her full battle regalia, the room quieted down just a bit, though she could still feel the glares. She told the innkeep she'd take the job patching up the mercenaries, who only grunted in response, seemingly more interested in cleaning the mug she just put down despite a line of others waiting.

Taking that as a contract signed, Caoimhe began walking out.

Someone slapped her ass as she walked, followed by the sound of cheers and then quieted down by jeers as they insinuated how someone could find her attractive. Like all the other times before, she told herself to keep walking. Spit landed close to her feet as she took the final step out. Like all the other times before, Caoimhe ignored it all with practiced grace and barely repressed shame and rage.

Once outside, the ranger found the bloody scene outside the inn to be much more comforting. It was an environment that she was used to and had control over. With a practiced eye, she scanned the situation.

Two bodies, a man and a woman, lay dead. The man, who looked like he was ready to charge in and save the merchant presumably, died from a blunt weapon to the head, and the woman, probably the merchant, from a slit throat. Looking at the crowd that pretended not to notice anything and from the heavy boot prints in the snow, it seemed safe to assume that the Black Beaks were involved. A shame, but someone would clean up the mess eventually.

Curiously, the third body was that of the medicine man. It was hard to tell through his garb, but he appeared mostly unharmed and was only unconscious. Likely didn't intervene too much, and from all appearances seemed to be a capable doctor and so, a valuable asset. Still, he wouldn't survive too long out in the cold regardless of who he was. With a huff and puff, Caoimhe managed to heave up the shorter man and deposit him inside the inn right on the doorstep. She quickly retreated before any assumptions could be made.

Done with her good deed for the day, Caoimhe made her way up the east road, intent on finding those mercenaries. Once she got out of the city, she drew her bow with practiced ease and kept careful watch on her path ahead.