XIV: The Thirsty Herald: Firstflame

[Drasil Razorfang]

Golden rays spread into a relativly neat bedroom, revealing an elf and a small bird.  While the elf seemed to be sleeping, the small bird was already awake and going about her morning tasks.  Ruffling her grey feathers to make them stand erect, she systematically groomed each one, setting them into place before moving to the next.  Black beads peered around the room as she surveyed the "damage" left by her master.  Letting out a muffled chirp in dismay, she set putting Drasil's newly washed clothes on the back of an armchair as she had been taught.   The bird then attempted to move the large spears propped against the walls.  Flapping her tiny wings viciously, the young bird somehow managed to drag the two spears across the room and lay they on the floor.  Moving onto the large assortment of daggers, she picked up each tenderly, as not to damage or scratch them, with her wickedly curved beak and set them on the clothing inside thier sheaths.  Surveying the now "clean" room, she proceeded to her next task, waking her master.

Flying over to the bed, she cooed softly at the young elf.  Wiping long strands of hair off the elf's face, she bstroked his cheek tenderly with her beak.  When the elf did not wake, she began to press harder until finally she delivered a sharp peck.

Waking up with a start, Drasil drew a dagger from under his pillow, but upon seeing the small bird, he put it once more in its sheath before returning it to its former hiding place.  A single, crimson droplet of blood appeared on his cheek from where the bird had hit him.  "Ow!" he said, facing the bird "that hurt more than last time!"  Feigning anger, he set about washing and dressing, all of which had been prepared by the falcon.  Slipping on a pair of of breeches, the elf headed for the door, taking one of his spears with him.  Behind him, a twinkle in her eye, the young bird picked up the shirt that her master had discarded and proceeded down to the kitches, still grasping the shirt in her talons.

In the kitchen, the smells of early morning cooking filled the bird with joy.  Flying above the heads of the cooks scurring to prepare the morning meal, she searched for an Twen.  Unable to find her, the bird landed, black beads searching for someone in charge while her beak worked viciously at plucking up small morsels of food.  

Seeing there was no one new entering the kitchen, the bird flies out to directly confront her master herself.  He shirt, which, by the small birds standards, is extremely heavy, wieghs her down, causing her to fly lower and lower to teh ground.  About halfway across the common room, she drops the cloth accidentally.

After being dropped by the small falcon, the shirt begins its gentle fall earthwards, landing in a small group of people talking.

Back in the common room, the shirtless elf walked to his usual table in the back corner.  Wellformed muscles rippled as he moved, catching the eyes of many, despite his attempts to remain unnoticed.  he finally reached his table after passing through the see staring eyes and sat down, hunched waiting for someone to take his order.  Seeing his bird drop his shirt, the elf's cheeks flush as he adverts his eyes downwards, hoping noone will notice him.

Drasil Razorfang CD

Edited by: Drasil Razorfang at: 5/28/06 1:08

[Xun Darkwoe]

oh, thank you very much... um, i didn't catch your name. i'm so sorry for bothering you, but i am not very wealthy and i have no food. um... so what is your name?

Xun grabs the plate and starts eating. while he is eating, he looks at the golden haired elf. he had been so nice to him, but Xun had nothing to give in return. what could he do? he needed to give him something, or it was impolit. so he asked the elf...

um, i'm so sorry, but i have nothing to repay you for the food. thoguh, i might be able to do something for you. chop wood, anything. what would you like? it is the only ting i can give you.

The man who dares attack me, shall have pain and suffering beneath my blade. A man who touches me shall know what a beast I can be. Xun Darkwoe, Hunter of Thorns.

[so orril miesefer]

Yes, sure you can sit here... If I remember right you are Malavon. *Say to Malavon before the falcon entered the room and threw the shirt over them*

*Looking at the shirtless elf Orril though* hehe this guy forgot the shirt... I bet he won't notice that until someone yells at him. Should I rise it... no, I can't let Shadow and Storm without sight...

*then looked back at Xun and sayd*

Hmmm... At the moment the only thing I need is food for my familiars... I'm quiet bad cooking and bet that they will get angry with me if I give them something I made. By the way, I'm Orril, wizard mage of profesion.

*Looking at the wolf who looks to the cat over a chair, Orril knew Shadow would jump when he didn't looked, so he stayed checking Shadow. Then noted that Storm was also looking at the cat... what was going on? probably they wanted to play... or eat... Orril saw away for some blinks and Shadow jumped, taking the shirt from Orril hands and runing away with it, followed closely by Storm.*

Hey you two, come back now! *yelled Orril to his familiars, but it was late, they ran through the open door.* Ho no! Well, have to do my matinal exsersice *And with this words the mage ran behind the two animals, yelling things like "stop" and "come back" but soon he was tired and with no shirt.*

What's my magic? My treasure. What's my God? My freedom. My law? the strength and the wind. My mother country the sky So Orril Miés'éfer, Sky master.

Edited by: so orril miesefer  at: 5/26/06 3:11

[Phyth Glenfield]

Phyth continued enjoying his breakfast, but the peacefulness did not last. An elf walked into the tavern from the rooms. Nothing unusual, except he had no shirt. A falcon flying through the room had it.
Great, another thing to shoot, he thought, I could have a target practice, if I actually needed the practice.

Continuing with his meal, he watched as the falcon dropped the shirt onto a table with two elfs and a human. Phyth expected them to bring the shirt to the elf who needed it, but the wolf had other ideas. No longer even bothering to hide the fact that he was staring, Phyth watched as the wolf grabbed the shirt and ran out the door. He brought his cup up to his mouth and allowed himself a smile.
So much for peace and quiet...

"No matter where you go, there you are..."
Buckaroo Banzai

Phyth Glenfield

[Twén Aråerwén]

Nodding a bit at the dwarf mage as he requested the specialty with a nice side order of alcohol, the elf went to step away. Only to be halted in her tracks by the sounds of a boisterous voice, the elfess smiled a sunny grin as she saw a different stumpy standing before her. Gathering that they were indeed long lost brothers the elf’s eyes glistened with a hint of sorrow, seeing that she had not seen her twin sister in a small number of seasons. The newcomer placed near the same order as his brother before Twen could reply. “I would be getting yee both a hearty serving of my favorite breakfast.” She took mental note that they both wished a bit of drink with their breakfast, had better bring a pitcher the mage noted to herself.

Turning away from the seated dwarves she saw that another elf had joined the festivities, a sunny smile once more prominently displayed upon her delicate face. She raised one frail hand in a gesture to ask the elf, Drasil, to be patient for a few more moments. Hastily moving to the kitchen and preparing two healthy plates for the dwarf brothers, knowing their hunger was probably equivalent to their girth. Loading these once again upon the platter and making her way to the bar, filling a large pitcher with the dwarf’s apparently preferred alcohol, paired with two empty flagons. Placing this then upon the platter she lifted it with both hands, the weight almost causing the frail elf to drop it. Gingerly the mage made her way across the main room to where they were seated an edgy expression very evident upon her face.

Laying out the feast in front of the brothers as well as the pitcher of beer, she smiled warmly to them before speaking. “I was thinking a bit more drink would be in order for yee gentlemen; I would hope my assumption is not to your disliking.” Delicate palms rubbed upon the hem of her dress in a meek attempt to alleviate the pain caused by the weighty platter. Addressing Thorgas as she continued on the mages voice surprisingly melodic and light considering the pain in her tiny hands. “There is not in the kitchen for scraps yet Sir, but I will let the stableman know that your friend needs fed. There will be a small charge of 2 san for this but I will keep my eyes open in the kitchen for something more suitable. Yer charge is 30 san for the pitcher, meals and the food for your pig, M’Lord.” Radiant eyes narrowing in mirth as an exaggerated smile danced over her regal face. Patiently she awaited their payment, before placing it on the platter and sauntering over to Drasil.

Curtseying to him, the elf came to stand just across the table, the radiant smile still evident upon her face. Metallic grey eyes filled with a swirling maelstrom of nearly perceptible fire. “G’day sir, a bit warm in here don’t yee be thinking?” Tiny hands grasping the hem of her dress and making fanlike motions. “I don’t blame yee for trying to be cool in here, the kitchen is already beginning to feel like an oven.” Pursed crimson lips blew gently upon wandering curls, an attempt to move them from her field of vision. “What is it I could be getting yee this fine morning?”  

(¯`·._†he §pe££ ƒe££ Üpon the Çrowd £ike a Ðragon, Åncient and ƒu££ oƒ Ðeath_.·´¯)

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[Xun Darkwoe]

Oh, um, thank you Orril. I can't get food for your pets. I can barely get food for myself. so sorry, there is not much I can do.

However, after Xun said this, he sees Orril runing outside, yelling "come back!" or "stop!" Xun goes out the door to see a wolf and an owl, the wolf carrying a shirt, running away from Orril.

So that's why, huh? ok, I can help 'em out.

Xun starts running as fast as he could, which was 14 strals per hour, and in no time he had caught up to Orril.

Do you need some help? I am a fast runner, and I might be able to catch up to those animals. Odd that there is such wolf and owl around here, maybe, they are your familiars? Some familiars.

The man who dares attack me, shall have pain and suffering beneath my blade. A man who touches me shall know what a beast I can be. Xun Darkwoe, Hunter of Thorns.

Edited by: Xun Darkwoe at: 5/26/06 15:48

[Aueniteri]

Like a distant electrical shock, consciousness entomed itself into 'Teri's mind, bringing her awake with a slight twinge. Slowly, unwillingly, she turned over onto her back, bringing her right hand to her face. A little scale broke from her face just beside her eyes, and gradually, she opened them to find sunlight. Initially, that was all she noticed, and then, coming from the depths of Avà only knows where, was the room around her.

Gradually, she sat, and, as the morning before, feeling like either she'd drastically overslept, slept very uncomfortably or drunk herself silly before going to sleep, the latter she knew to be untrue. However, the first two options were not only accurate, but more so accurate when told as the same tale. She gave out a long, weak sigh, and drew herself to her feet, turning to straighten out the bedclothes nicely. Then, she turned to herself - at least, that of which she could see.

Her dress, her favorite green one, was nearly ruined, and would take a special cleaner to press the wrinkles out of it. She carefully removed it, and wore instead her loose-fitting trousers and shirt. A pity; she didn't feel like wearing a dress today. She'd stayed here for quite some time, and thoughts of moving on caught her fancy. After all, Garrek was sure to have pinpointed her, if two days ago hadn't proved that amply enough. Then again, maybe Garrek would have suspected her to move on, and with that, she would be more safe here. But it was a part of the tracks, and Garrek never left the trail unattended.

'Teri forced the thought from her mind, turning the pillow of the bed over to hide the evidence of her tears. Senseless, really; she'd just been exhausted. She couldn't pinpoint what she'd expected from yesterday, if the day previous had been any sign. Slowly, she lifted her longsword and its sheathe from the floor beside her pack, and studied it.

Of course, it would be a simple matter to strap it on and forget it was there, she wore it often enough. But to wear it would be an outward show of aggression, and be practically asking for trouble again, something this place could certainly do without. Then again, if there was going to be trouble, it would happen with or without her.

Her mind slowly went back to the fight with the massive orc. Men; the orc had loved the attention, sure enough. So many people - and psyrpents - joined in the fight. A barstool- she smiled lightly. That had possibly been the highlight of her day. One quick show, she'd snatched the barstool out of the air. Then, hell had broken loose. Mepher got excited and there was fire again. And then...

Her mind froze, hovering tortuously over the next line in the plot. It seemed a dark reddish hue, the memory. A moment of blood, of fear. The dark-skinned hunter had been hurt, so badly hurt. He could have died...

Her eyes stung, and seemed to moisten over a little, and she squeezed her temples a little with her right hand, stretching over her forehead."Stop it, stop it, silly...", she whispered to herself. She rubbed her eyes with the tips of her index finger and thumb, drawing it out off the bridge of her nose. It just wasn't right to cry over it now. She hadn't seen him since, and it was obvious he wanted to be alone. More than that, she told herself, she needed to get over it all. It was simply a short-lived emotional response, something she needed to learn to overcome. She'd had them before, and each one passed on without leaving too much of a scar, each in their own realm. The dangerous part of this one would be...

A loud clattering brought her out of her thoughts as her sword dropped to the floor from the loosening grip of her left hand. She reached down, picked it up again, and strapped it around her, just above the hips. May as well wear it; you never know when it might come in handy. Then, it was down the stairs, intent on the well to wash her face and hopefully clear her mind.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, she found it hard to recognize anyone. It all seemed like a general rabble, the same as one might find in any tavern. Elves and men and dwarves - what happened to the ogres and the psyrpents? Well, there had been one ogre, and quite a sight at that. Quite possibly, those days for the Herald were passed, and it had fallen into the much more profitable market of a frequented place.

Her eyes finished flitting over the crowd to land on a tired and sore Ana'Mirl doing roughly the same thing she'd just finished doing - trying to sort out the customers. The difference there must have been that Ana's eyes were accustomed to doing so, while 'Teri's mind so much more easily shut out things that she spent little to no attention on. Sometimes, she was grateful for her elven heritage in that respect, other times, it was annoying.

With long, meaningful strides, she made her way over to Ana, who was now outside and walking toward the house she'd been removed to. Running a little to catch up, she began aloud, "Ana!", both in surprise and pleasure. "You're up! Are you sure you're feeling well enough? You took a serious fall, only two days ago. I'm certain being abed too much can't be a lot better for you, but..."

She stopped trying to correct the elder woman, and simply ended with, "It's good to have you back."

-------------------
Silence! You could give your excuses until Injèrá hides her head from all Santharia, but it will never preserve your life.
I have so sworn...
____________________
Listen to the songbird, don't ignore it...
Legacy of the Songbird

[Thorgas Ironforge]

*Thorgas was surprised at seeing his brother for the first time, as was the tears that appeared on his eyes as he fondly remember the days the two spent together. He went to Gamaliel and gave him a hug, then bade him to sit down with him. Turning to Gamaliel, he said:*
Aye, forgive me, brother. I mean to go home, but further studies caused me to be much more delayed. It doesn't matter now, as you're here with me, and I promised to go home after my studies, and that oath I shall keep. Haha, look at you! When I left the mines your beard has a healthy color of brown; now it's peppered with gray, as does your hair and your eyebrows.
*Turning to the hostess, Thorgas said:*
Aye, Lady. The pitcher would do wonders to us dwarves who suffered being away from each other for many years. Thank you for the fine service, and the good food ,too! Here is the 32 san for the fine entertainment. It's hard to come by a maiden with such good qualities such as yours. A rare trait, but a very good trait, one that cannot be compared to the rarest jewel that can be found in Kor Mithrid.
*Returning to his meal, Thorgas poured the beer in both their glasses, almost filling it to the brim. Facing his brother, he said:*
Well, I see you have a friend there. Could you introduce him to me? I'm sure you know Buri. By the way, lets share the payment for the meal. Give me the 16 san later, harharhar. Oh, and from now on I will help you around your forge, since I should put my new found knowledge to good use. Just tell me what you think of my proposal, then we'll dig a home for ourselves!
*Thorgas laughed loudly, between gulps of beer and bites of bacon, while waiting for his brother to say something.*

Behold... Admire... Fear... and Wonder. Witness the fire burning in me... Burning... To Avenge.

The Ironforge Pyromancer

[so orril miesefer]

*Hearing Xun, Orril answered.*

Yes, that two are my familiars... but seems they need something to get out of boredom... Can you catch the wolf for me?? I'm quiet bad running...

*Taking again breath, Orril goes behind the wolf and owl that stoped for a moment, before running again.*

What's my magic? My treasure. What's my God? My freedom. My law? the strength and the wind. My mother country the sky So Orril Miés'éfer, Sky master.

[Gamaliel Ironforge]

*Although Gamaliel is not used to crying, he shed some drops, a sign to his brother that he really missed him so much. Giving his brother a tight hug, he sat down with him and ate.*
Well Thorgas, the grey color of my beard signifies old age; you've been gone from home long enough. After you have told me of your dedication to your studies, I realized that it is something I should be proud of.
Squeak.
This is Jozan, by the way. He became my constant companion whenever I am training by myself. Buri and you seems to be doing fine. Here's the 16 san for my part of the meal, brother, and about your proposition. It's brilliant! We'll dig a suitable mine, with veins of precious gems and metal ores like gold, silver, and iron. We'll name the mine "Silverdelve", and dig rooms for your conservatory of fire and my forge. A great idea and good name for a home huh?
Squeak.
*Gamaliel took a long drink from the mug, contentedly thinking about the plan, then turns to the barmaid and says:*
What he says is true, m'lady. The food is great, the beer is great, and the service is unmatched, too!

Swinging my axe once is murder; twice is nicer.

The Ironforge Paladin

[Torscha]

The Thirsty Herald had seen no shortage of eccentric patrons. Sheltered beneath its eaves were mages and warriors and rogues of all stripes, together with the common folk who kept them plied with the good food and drink that had made the tavern's fame long before its clientele had. Still, had the tavern eyelashes, it would at least have batted them in something approaching pique to see the odd pair that approached it, along the winding track.

The leading one was of a sort that the innkeeper would probably know well: stained with the grime of several days' travel, stubble darkening the strong line of his jaw, the man looked weary, half-asleep, and very, very thirsty. He was dressed in a nondescript fashion, no more flamboyantly than any traveller upon the high roads would be, in a cream tunic worn under a leather jerkin, and the matching leather breeches tucked into a pair of boots that might have been fine under the layers of travel-dust and mud. A broad-brimmed hat shaded his eyes against the first rays of the rising sun, which might lead one to conclude that his squint had more to do with a raging hangover than an attempt  to block out the sun: a theory given credence only by the very slightest unsteadiness in his step.

He leaned heavily upon his companion, trailing just a little behind, whom he harangued extensively and with great gusto. The other, heavily laden as she was, did not seem to believe his uncouth behaviour warranted a response, as she bore the abuse with the taciturn sullenness of one who has a very long memory and a very long time with which to see grudges to fruition.

Then again, her silence might have been due in no small part to the fact that she was, in fact, a horse.

Perhaps 'horse' is misleading in this case; certainly, when one thinks of horses the first steed to mind is always the proud Centoraurian purebred, equally adept as charger or courser, the finest mounts on the continent. The exceeding fineness of their manes, the sheen of their coats, the surpassing sharpness of their hooves, the fine arch of their necks, and above all their proud intelligence have all been rhapsodised in generations of poetry.

This was certainly not one of them, being small -- with her head coming up to her master's shoulder -- and an unremarkable smoky-gray, approaching brown thanks to the dust which she wore like a blanket. Her flanks bore the marks of old scars, perhaps from the cruel spurs of some other master. Certainly her current travelling companion shows none of the inclination -- or motivation -- to spur his ride on to any particular feats of speed. Her defiantly slow plodding seemed to have more in common with the mode of a Kiang donkey than with the high-stepping gait of a Centoraurian war horse.

Which was strange, to say the least, considering that anyone who has ever seen a Centoraurian would be able to read the lines of that lineage in the face of the man leaning upon the pack horse.

He paused for a moment, coming within sight of the tavern. His companion stopped amicably beside him, seemingly glad for the rest.

"Smoke, what did I tell you?" he crowed triumphantly, slapping the creature on the flank. "I told you we were going in the right direction! If I'd known we were this close we might have made it here last night, and not have had to endure that crofter's awful snoring. And his abominable rotgut." The very memory of which was enough to make him shudder.

Smoke displayed her enthusiasm by lifting her tail and, with surprising daintiness, depositing another steaming heap of dung upon the track.

The man sighed. "I suppose that's all I can expect from you. Reticence and copious amounts of shite. Onward, then, and let's see what welcome this place will give to two thirsty travellers."

Smoke blinked intelligent eyes at her master, and fell into step behind him as he walked, straightening his back and adjusting the tilt of his hat to a more rakish angle. After all, first impressions were important.

"Hello, the inn!" he hailed.

Perhaps a background check on this particularly scruffy character might be in order.

[Xun Darkwoe]

"Ahh, i'm fine, just a few scratches and a few small bites. No problem, m'lord. However, *Yawn* I'm tired from that race. I think i can lay down for a while. What do you think? But, um, before that, I'm still hungry, um, and I am still, uh, you know...

Xun studdered, but Orril got the point that Xun was still broke and hungry. Still waiting for a response, Xun goes into the tavern, sits down, and looks at the menu. His mouth was watering at all the food passin by and all the food on the menu. However, since he was broke, he could not get anything. He waited for Orril to come back inside, and see if he accepted how Xun wanted more food. Getting a tad impatient, Xun walks back outside and asks Orril.

"Um, so can you, get me some food? I know that I'e been bothering you, m'lord, it's just that i haven't had much food, and I am really hungry. Please understand, I've had a horrible life, and I have no money, and, and, oh, I don't want to talk about it. I'm sorry."

Xun goes back into the tavern, goes to his room, and sits on the matress, sulking extremely sadly.

The man who dares attack me, shall have pain and suffering beneath my blade. A man who touches me shall know what a beast I can be. Xun Darkwoe, Hunter of Thorns.

[Drasil Razorfang]

Returning the gorgeous elfess' smile, Drasil responded "Ay 'tis quite hot out today and I'm quite lucky it is seeing as that Eophorium made off with my shirt.  Wolves I can stand, but those filthy dark elves send my hand to my spear and my spear to thier heart!"  Flames danced behind the golden depths of his eyes as he talked about the slaying of the dark elf.  Lips twisted into a smile in his perverted glee, it took many moments for Drasil to realize that the elfess still awaited his order.

"I believe anything cold would be in order.  Now if you would exscuse me I have a bird to calm, a wolf to chase and a filthy elf to deal with."  Bowing his head in a parting gesture, the elf made his way to the door, staying amoung the shadows cast by the early morning sun.  When he reached the door, he stepped outside and was instantaneously blinded by the golden rays of morning.  After his eyes adjusted to the bright light, he scanned the area, looking for his shirt.

In the distance he could see the wolf and the owl with his shirt being chased by two elves, one the dark elf and the other the owner of the two pets.  Shaking his head in dismay, the elf began to trot down the path when something zoomed past his left ear.  Turning abruptly, the elf say Kari, a grey blur streaking through the sky, entering the chase for the shirt.  Pale lips pursed in anger, the elf once again remembered his anger towards the bird.  Standing in place with his arms crossed, the elf watched with glee as the bird worked herself into a fury as she tried to catch the fleeing animals.

The small bird hurled herself hedlong into the chase, fury easily distinguishable in her obsidian eyes.  It did not take long for her to reach the two animals playing with the shirt.  Cautiously avoiding the dark elf with disgust, the bird swooped down, seizing the shirt with her talons and began to furiously tug upward, trying to rip it out of the grip of the startled blonde-elf and away from the animals

Drasil Razorfang CD

Edited by: Drasil Razorfang at: 5/28/06 0:09

[Phyth Glenfield]

Phyth finished his breakfast and downed the last of the grapejuice. He stood up with a sigh of content and walked quietly out the tavern. The two elves were still outside. As he walked out of the tavern his keen eyes turned to a figure riding what appeared to be a packhorse. As the man rode up, Phyth continued to study him. He suspected the man was a Centoraurian.
Could it be? One of my kin? he thought, But on a horse such as that?

Phyth shrugged as he rode up, not really caring. He had met a few Centoraurians in his travels, but he obviously didn't know this man judging from his look. As he walked to the stables, the man said "Hello, the inn!" Staring at him, Phyth replied sarcastically.
"Somehow, I don't think it's going to answer." Reaching the stables, he walked inside and began grooming Iago.

"No matter where you go, there you are..."
Buckaroo Banzai

Phyth Glenfield

Edited by: Phyth Glenfield  at: 5/27/06 22:45

[so orril miesefer]

*Suddenly a falcon entered in the chase and graved the shirt, Orril got confused to say the least... What was going on with the animals today??? What was to come next? Fizzle chasing Shadow? With all his strenghts he graved the shirt and pulled the falcon to him.*

Leave this now! Isn't mine so go up and pick another thing.

*Shadow and Storm got distance and sat watching the falcon fight with Orril. Finaly Storm helped and made the falcon fall to ground, there Orril could take the shirt again, and covering his hand with it picked the falcon and returned to the taver followed by Shadow and Storm, walking near the shirtless elf.*

Is this your?

*Said pointing both the shirt and the falcon.*

What's my magic? My treasure. What's my God? My freedom. My law? the strength and the wind. My mother country the sky So Orril Miés'éfer, Sky master.

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