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Author Topic: Thirsty Herald Chapter XIX, Firstflame  (Read 17559 times)
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Synder Nytefall
Jovial Buccaneer
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Elf - Butterfly Rover


« on: December 16, 2012, 03:19:05 PM »

The Hearld is now open... Please feel free to post your contact information in the appropriate thread and make an entrance post at your leisure. All are welcome! heart

Only two rules exist outside of Greybark's commandments.
1) Please aim for at least two paragraphs for each post you make.
2) Always tip your waitress. ;)
« Last Edit: December 18, 2012, 02:03:45 PM by Synder Nytefall » Logged

“Every normal woman must be tempted at times, to spit on her hands,
hoist the black flag and begin slitting throats.”
Synder Nytefall
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Elf - Butterfly Rover


« Reply #1 on: December 18, 2012, 02:01:08 PM »

Synder’s hallucination was so restless that the known dream took on a sense of reality. It overstepped the ethereal realm of subconscious outlets and fantasies, becoming all too heartbreakingly real.

It began with a memory. Decades and then centuries fell away leaving Synder young and naïve again. In the cargo hold of the ship that carried her from Strata to Lorehaven, from one world into another. It was during that journey that Synder had met Eric, the man who should have been her mate for his entire life. Instead he had died too young and had taken her youthful love to the grave with him.

In her daydream Synder could feel the gentle roll of the ship and smell the scent of horse, hay, sea and fish… and Eric. Always Eric. He was standing before her, gazing down at her through eyes that were olive, amber and worried. The Rover had just told him that she loved him.

“It is impossible.” The dream memory replayed in her mind as Eric reached out, took her hand and lifted it gently. He raised his own arm until the two were side by side. “You see the difference, you?”

The dreaming Synder made a small, wordless exclamation of pain. The sound of his voice! That distinct Strata accent, so deep, sensual and unique. It was the bittersweet sound of his voice and its beautiful accent that had kept Synder away from Strata for well over a century.


For a few blinks Synder struggled to remain in the dream, before at last opening her burgundy eyes. She drank in the rays of Injera that had crept into the tavern whilst she had lost consciousness for a few moments. The Rover had imbibed too much mil’no fire the night before, easily noted by the bead of perspiration that had formed upon her brow. Nimbly the elf ran her fingers gingerly over her forehead trying to clear the last wisps of the vivid dream.

The bright fragrance of peppered hearthberries brought a thoughtful grin to the pirate’s luscious lips. Obviously Trisstessa had brought her breakfast as she has dozed at the entrance to the tavern. Cautiously she scanned the interior of the Hearld, quickly finding the serving girl going about her morning chores. Nonchalantly Synder lifted one of the berries to her lips taking in the fiery aroma as the heat coursed over her palette.
Logged

“Every normal woman must be tempted at times, to spit on her hands,
hoist the black flag and begin slitting throats.”
Tristessa Stonebridge
Herald Barmaid
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Human, Helcrani


« Reply #2 on: December 19, 2012, 09:15:48 AM »

A movement caught the corner of Triss's eye. Synder had awakened and was eating the hearthberries she had left for her. She smiled as she finished wiping down the last of the tables. She then moved to the bar, making sure that it was nice and clean as well. Even though she was much older than the Elfess, she felt a motherly inclination towards her, not unlike the way she felt towards everyone.

After she had made sure the bar was thouroughly clean, she moved back into the kitchen to check how the foods were coming. The stews were simmering nicely, small bubbles coming to the surface, emitting wonderful aromas as they popped. She stirred each stew, making sure none of it was stuck on the bottom of the pot. Moving to the oven, she opened it up and saw that the breads were done. Using some heavy towels, she carefully took them out and put them on the counter to cool.

She gave a sigh as she wiped her brow. Dipping a cup into a barrel of water, she filled it to the brim and then took a drink of it. Refreshment coursed down her throat into the rest of her body. She put the cup down upon the counter and wiped her hands off onto her apron. She stepped back out into the common room and took a look around. Things were definitely more quiet around her since her father and left and took her daughter to the city. He thought she needed more formal training. Triss had argued at first, but she knew he was right. He promised that Claudia would visit, but he wasn't sure when.

Not really sure what else to do, she walked over to Synder. "Are the berries to your liking?" she asked with a smile.
Logged

If a good meal and a nights' sleep is what you need,
Come to the Thirsty Herald, where you'll find the best deals around!

~*~Tristessa Stonebridge~*~
Ash Tyr
Phoenix
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Human, Kyranian


« Reply #3 on: December 20, 2012, 03:48:26 AM »

He breathed smoke, not air. His skin darkened, cracked, and split open with a multitude of fissures. With one hand held before his face, he marveled at the beauty of the fire consuming him, the yellow-orange flames dancing and swaying in an errant breeze. As he watched, his skin burnt away, reduced to ash to be carried on the wind. His fingers flexed as that peeling of his seared flesh, his coal-black skin, revealed the gleaming white bone underneath. Still, he felt no fear. His heart did not so much as quicken in its beating as the bone too blackened, cracked, and fell asunder.

His eyes snapped open. A sheen of sweat slickened his skin. Immediately he lifted both hands, turning them over again and again to be sure that they were yet hale. An exhaled breath of relief greeted the realization that both hands were intact. The fingers of one hand swooped down to brush damp reddish brown locks away from his face.

He lifted up, one arm braced against the ground beneath him. Sleep yet clung to his eyes, his vision blurred as he struggled to awaken further. It was the break of day that greeted his gaze with the sun beginning to banish the darkness of the night with its first rays. Finally his lips formed the hint of a smile as he breathed in deep, vastly enjoying the crisp and open air around him. He stretched and turned, working out muscles tense from a night of slumber.

One hand pushed off from the ground that had been his bed as he stood and straightened out his clothes. Grey eyes the color of early morning mist looked to the door of the tavern maybe ten peds away. It was then that his stomach rumbled and reminded him of the purpose of this time of day: breakfast.

Long legs carried him across the yard. After slipping inside the front door, he settled at a table near that of the elfess's by turning a chair slightly away from its parent table before his rump kissed the seat. He waited patiently to speak, awaiting a moment when he would interrupt neither sea-farer nor barmaid. Even then his voice was not particularly loud, "Trisstessa, is breakfast ready?"
« Last Edit: December 20, 2012, 05:41:36 AM by Ash Tyr » Logged

Daron Soulstealer
Immortal Avenger
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Human, Erpheronian


« Reply #4 on: December 25, 2012, 05:21:59 AM »

"Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!"

A nervous squeak came from the pouch at his side.  The man looked down at the upturned furry face of the small ferret who was studying him.  The man couldn't help but smile.  "Not you, Bart.  Me.  I'm the stupid one."

The ferret squeaked sympathetically, then dropped down, disappearing from sight.

Daron, as Egan was beginning to actually think of himself, stopped walking and stared up to the sky, where the injera was beating down on the land with terrific heat.  He used his sleeve to wipe his brow, before casting his gaze to his sandy surroundings, finally spotting Vlad and Jake, his other two ferrets.  They were apparently immune to the heat, as they chased each other, rolling in a squeaking ball of fur as they wrestled.  They always seemed to be oblivious to everything, unless hungry.

Back to the stupidity.  Yes, he was stupid.  Here he was, in the Rahaz-daz desert, chasing a dangerous criminal.  Okay, maybe dangerous was too strong; potentially dangerous.  Yes, very potentially dangerous.  Daron Soulstealer was on the trail of Svek the Blade!  Yes, Svek the Blade, sounded much more intriguing than Svek the Quill, the forgemaster of New Santhala.

After Svek had been implicated in several forgeries of documents bilking some rich nobles of much gold, Daron had been hired to find the man and return him to justice.  The chase had led him here, crossing this accursed desert.

Working his way up a rocky dune, he stopped short at the top and lowered himself down to his haunches.  Up ahead was a small camp where a man was laying on a mat under a makeshift shelter, giving him cover from the relentless sun.

The man appeared to be unarmed, which was as Daron expected it to be.  The only reason he had agreed to this adventure, besides the gold offered as reward, was that Svek was a notorious coward and would be a peaceful capture.

Daron stood up and stole closer.  Step by step he moved, trying to keep from making a sound. Of course, Jake and Vlad were not helping, as they spotted the camp and made a beeline run towards it.  There was just something too tempting for them to ignore.

The man at the camp awoke with a start as Vlad used him as a spring board to jump up onto the top of the blanket that formed the shelter over the man.  As he tried to focus on the two furry hoodlums that were assailing him, a high pitched scream erupted from him.

Daron smiled as he pulled out his sword.  That girly sounding scream only helped to bolster his own courage.  "Stand still, Svek the Quill.  I'm Daron Soulsteler, and I've come to arrest you."  That sounded impressive enough, Daron thought.

The man looked at him, blinking in the bright light.  "W- what?"

"You heard me.  I'm taking you back to New Santhala."

Svek paused fo a moment, the a small grin crept aross his features. "No.  No, I don't think so."

Daron was a bit startled, and waved his sword as menacingly as he could muster.  "I don't think you realize, you don't have a choice."

The older man was into a full fledged grin now.  "But he does."

Daron felt the cold steel edge of a dagger slip under his throat from someone behind him, then a breathy whisper in his ear. "Unless you want a permanent smile, you might wanna be dropping that sword, Mister Soulstealer."



"Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!"

Three ferrets were chattering up at the man ahead of them, the tone decidedly unfriendly.  Daron looked back at them as he walked.  "I know, I know.  You're tired of walking.  So am I.  You think I - Ouch!!!" 

Daron hopped along lifting bare foot up and pulling the sharp rock out from his heel.  Whimpering, he rubbed the wounded extremity.  As he hopped around on one foot, he noticed up ahead the building that Svek had told him to look for; A Thirsty Herald, or something like that.  He lowered his foot and turned to the three ferrets at his feet. 

"Looks like we made it, guys."  He couldn't help but smile.  Svek had been good to his word, letting Daron go and telling him where to find safety.

Walking toward the building, Daron reached up and pulled his wide brimmed hat off his head.  He then very modestly placed it strategically over his naked body to protect himself from being seen.

Yes, Svek had spared his life and, yes, told him how to find safety, but at the other man's insistence, they had stolen all his clothes, weapons and bags, leaving the hero to wander the desert nude.  They only left him his hat to protect him from the injera.  The worst part was hearing the raucous laughter as he was forced away.

Reaching the tavern, he opened the door only as much as he needed to poke his head inside. "Excuse me.  Excuse me!  I was wondering if anyone here could lend me some pants."
Logged

Landion Ohta'Raumo
Stoic Archer
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Elven, Tethinrhim


« Reply #5 on: March 29, 2013, 12:55:31 AM »

Landion made his way towards the entrance of the Herald. He had already settled Tinwë in the stables, having brushed her down after the rather excruciating  pace he had set in hopes of making it to the Herald before sunup. The sunlight that was creeping over the horizon told him that he hadn't quite accomplished that. The thin layer of perspiration that had gathered on his brow was the only outward indication of his recent exertion.

While he had never before been to the Herald, he knew of its existence and determined that it would be the most appropriate place to rest before continuing on his journey. Turning the corner, he was surprised to find the naked backside of a man presented to him. Stopping in mid step, he tilted his head in amusement, a single silver brow raised in curiosity. He was able to catch the mans inquiry.  

"Excuse me.  Excuse me!  I was wondering if anyone here could lend me some pants."

It had been awhile since he had to rein in any outward show of amusement, but he was able to keep the smirk from his face, although he was laughing on the inside. He realized that he should say something then, knowing that if he were in a similar situation, although he couldn't recall a time where he was similarly bereft of clothing, that he would want the man behind him to make his presence known.

"I have some spare clothing, although they may be somewhat big on you."

Landion was nearly two palmspans taller than the man but their builds were fairly similar.
« Last Edit: March 29, 2013, 12:58:18 AM by Landion Ohta'Raumo » Logged

Tristessa Stonebridge
Herald Barmaid
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Human, Helcrani


« Reply #6 on: May 07, 2013, 02:48:53 PM »

As she was awaiting Synder's reply, Ash walked into the inn and sat at a nearby table. She turned her body slightly, so she was able to view both people.

"Tristessa, is breakfast ready?"

She was just about to reply when the opening of the door took her attention from what she was about to say. Sunlight poured in through the crack of the open doorway. Triss thought it curious that it didn't open all the way. Yet, when man poked his head in, her cheeks turned a bright pink. Though nothing embarassing was showing, due to the door and a hint of a hat, Triss was still flustered.

"Excuse me.  Excuse me!  I was wondering if anyone here could lend me some pants."

At first, Triss didn't know what to say. She turned to Ash, her eyes almost begging him to take care of the situation. Offer him pants or something! she wanted to say, but she knew that it would be rude to do such a thing in front of a potential customer. Thankfully, another voice, from outside of the doorway said something.

"I have some spare clothing, although they may be somewhat big on you."

Triss let out a breath. She hoped and prayed the situation would resolve itself quickly.

"Um....yeah....breakfast is...uh...ready. I'll go grab you some," Triss stammered. She was glad for an excuse from the situation as a whole. With a quick glance back to the man in the doorway, she hurried off to the kitchen.

Once there, she leaned against the wall and let out a large sigh. She grabbed the cup she had set on the counter earlier and took several drinks from it. One would think that, being in business in the tavern business she would be use to bawdy things such as that, but even after all these years, Triss still was one to blush at uncomfortable situations. After clearing her head for a moment or two, she grabbed a plate of random fruits, half of a roasted taenish breast, and a piece of freshly baked bread. With her free hand, she dipped out a cup of cool water and headed out towards the dining room.

"Here you go, Ash," Triss said with a smile, not really wanting to look back towards the doorway in case something far worse was there.

« Last Edit: May 07, 2013, 03:08:24 PM by Tristessa Stonebridge » Logged

If a good meal and a nights' sleep is what you need,
Come to the Thirsty Herald, where you'll find the best deals around!

~*~Tristessa Stonebridge~*~
Laell
Blade-Maiden
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Human, Centoraurian / Eyelian / Erpheronain


« Reply #7 on: May 17, 2013, 04:13:02 AM »

From the sands exposed to the brightest sun wafts a shimmering bend in reality; a kind of folding of the air. To the short, red-haired woman holding the lead for her gray donkey, who in turn pulls a laden cart with a large oven and two boxes, among miscellaneous items, that shimmer looks like a waving curtain; as though the desert is but a backdrop, and in just a few more paces her feet will no longer be drawn down by it, the faint heat building in the morning will dissipate, and some audience invisible just off the stage that all this must be on will cheer at her perseverance.

Laell Harleis laughs at her imagination, the sound nothing but a vague, broken breath, with more frustration than mirth to fuel it. Deliberately, she turns herself and her stubborn companion toward a nearby well, and only eight short paces from it, leaning against the rope, the gray-haired creature stops, its large ears turning backward as it jerks away, staring in disgruntled unhappiness at its mistress and her destination.

"Oh, come on!" Laell pleads, tugging again on the rope. The creature continues its resistance, and she throws the rope down at its feet. "Fine. You stay there and thirst to death, then. I'm getting me some water."

And just as she has promised, Laell makes her way to the edge of the well, lifts her dirt-stained skirt to sit on its wall, searches about for a bucket, ties it to the line and tosses it in, breathing a long sigh of relief when a distant splash is heard. She takes the rope with one dirt-stained, rope-burned hand, works it around, and begins to turn the lever to hoist up the bucket, smiling triumphantly at its weight, and putting more effort and focus into it. Eventually, it reaches the top, just visible, and she ties the rope off, fetches the bucket by hand, unfastens it, and perches it on the wall beside her, looking in defiance at her companion. "See! Water. Do you want some?"

Temptingly she holds the bucket toward the creature, but it only pins its ears back harder, were it possible, and wags its head, left, then right, as if a shake of no -- or a glance about, Laell isn't entirely sure. She shrugs, and from one of the various straps about her tunic produces a cup, dipping it into the water and raising it to her lips, first sipping, then draining it, dipping and draining it again. With effort she stops herself, clicks her tongue to keep from licking the water off her parched lips, and sighs, closing her eyes. When a minute has passed and the urge to drink the entire bucket has gone, she dips the cup again, finds her desire for the water reduced, and finishes it daintily before tucking the cup away again, teasing her donkey with the water one last time, then dumping the remainder back down the well. With a little hop she departs the well, and begins to walk cautiously around the building until she finds a stable.

"There's a warm bed over here!" she announces to the belligerent creature, who only glares at her. Finally, she tosses her hands up in the air and begins to walk back toward it. "Fine. If you're not going to move, I'll just take my things and-"

Without warning, the creature presses past her, and Laell finds herself obliged to step out of the way to avoid getting hit by the cart's wheels. Incredulously she stares at it, and then sees its reason for moving on: A young Shendar, straw over him from working the stables, has only just appeared. He greets the donkey with mild confusion, and Laell hurries after it. In the next few moments, the cart is unhitched, the animal brushed and fed, the stable-hand paid, and the breadmaker from Bardavos, her feet nearly dragging from her long walk, steps up to the door of the famed inn, The Thirsty Herald; and while not a herald herself, she can at least understand where the name was derived.

Laell nearly walks into him, her eyes on the ground as she approaches, but stops at the sudden presence of a figure in the doorway, pauses, coughs, and blushes profusely, turning her head; for there, directly in her path, and now with less distance between them than a handspan, is a naked man, reaching inside for some proffered clothing. No words escape her lips, and only a gasp and a struggling, fainted clearing of the throat manage to pass through her at all as she retreats slightly, turning her entire self away from the sight.
« Last Edit: May 17, 2013, 06:20:38 PM by Laell » Logged

On one hand, they claim that it is the result, not the effort given, that will imprint one forever in history; but on the other, is it not the form of the art, rather than the function, that defines its true beauty?
Amabella Catston
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Half-Elf, Aellenrhim / Erpheronian


« Reply #8 on: May 17, 2013, 01:44:37 PM »

It had been a few weeks since Stormcloak Amabella Catston's ship first swept into the port at Strata. Amabella met the most powerful Stormcloak politician at their port, a grizzled old white-bearded Wilvong dwarf named Thrak, who was born in the "Heaven's Gate" mountains near Quios. He knew Amabella's boss Kovor and got along well with him, so Thrak's first meeting with Amabella was an amiable one. Thrak had already been informed that Amabella was from the Carmalad Stormcloak port, that she was authorized to work in Strata as a merchant, and that she was also instructed to investigate the market for canelvous herbs.

Amabella quickly saw that, as with any business, Stormcloak branches were not exactly the same. Each one cannot help but to echo the pulse of the culture it is immersed in, and in some ways less subtle than others. For example, Thrak was the first merchant she ever met who wore a battle axe on his back. When Amabella inquired about it, the dwarf took a casual puff of pipe moss and said, "Actually, 'tis not strange at all for a merchant of Strata to be well armed."

That single sentence influenced Amabella's first feelings about Strata. She understood it to be a more dangerous place, mysterious yet intriguing. Amabella felt that Carmalad port had its perils too, but they were more discreet about it. Amabella wondered how she would feel about the people of Strata whom she encountered. Nevertheless, she kept her resolve to discriminate against no one, and evaluate any new acquaintances by their deeds alone.

Thrak unrolled a map and described the marketplaces in Strata which were dominated by Stormcloaks. Amabella was also to become familiar with areas a (relatively) short distance from Strata which could provide valuable sources of food and water. Thrak gave her directions to "The Thirsty Herald", and told her that Tharian was the common language spoken there.

Amabella hitched her two horses up to her Kolbruck wain, and set off with her usual belongings. She arrived at the tavern on the map, and immediately went to the stables. Amabella saw that another cart was already there.

She was greeted by an individual with human shaped ears, and Amabella learned that this was the stable-hand. She tipped him generously, and the horses were unhitched. The horses were placed in stalls nearby a smaller hoofed animal with long ears. One of Amabella's horses, "Carroot", munched contentedly on the hay she was given. The other horse, "Whinny", looked around the stall curiously.

Amabella was about to leave the stables when she caught the scent of something. She twirled around and approached the cart which was there before her arrival.

*sniff* *sniff* "Mmm….something smells yummy…." she said to the stable-hand.

Amabella would pay handsomely if the owner did have edibles that tasted half as good as the cart smelled. Besides, it didn't matter whatever business Amabella had to attend to, everything must simply come to a halt when she is hungry! She asked the stable-hand if this was his cart, but found out that it was not. Amabella decided to go inside and find the owner. She swiftly and silently drifted towards the tavern.

Amabella politely made no remark to the man approaching the inn wearing an oversized pair of pants. She had seen worse. Amabella was acquainted with a number of gaudy and ridiculous garments worn by people claiming to be on the "cutting edge" of Voldar fashion, and this was hardly much different than the "oversized hat" craze.  

Amabella daintily dusted off her shimmering silk dress and adjusted her Stormcloak necklace. With a gentle push, she opened the door. Amabella waltzed gracefully inside and took a look around.
« Last Edit: May 20, 2013, 01:30:20 PM by Amabella Catston » Logged

Ash Tyr
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Human, Kyranian


« Reply #9 on: May 20, 2013, 01:15:45 AM »

A commotion at the door tugged his attention away from the two women. Ash turned in his seat and stared with something of a slack jaw at the naked man poking his head through the tavern's front door. He had no idea how to proceed in this situation, had never seen anything like it before. Offer some of his clothes to the naked man? An easy solution with one hitch: all of his spare clothes were stored in the space, little more than a closet, that served as his room at the tavern. He would have gone to his room for those clothes, but other voices at the door disrupted his thoughts. He was lucky. Someone else offered the man clothing. No need to go to his room then.

He looked to Triss again as she spoke to him, as she offered to fetch him food. He started to stand, intending to tell her that he knew where the kitchen was and didn't need help cobbling together a meal if the food was already prepared. But she was already gone with a swish of her skirt. There was nothing to do but wait on her with his gaze fixedly set in the direction of the kitchen. He did not want to risk glimpsing anything as the newcomer worked his way into the pro-offered pair of pants.

Triss returned with a plate of fruit and freshly baked bread, and it was with a genuine smile that he accepted them. But he had to look away from her smile, his cheeks hot in a way that had nothing to do with the naked man. It would have been so much easier to fix his own food. Instead, the food was brought to him by a beautiful woman, and he found himself struggling to think of the proper way to thank her. He jammed a piece of bread into his mouth and spoke while chewing, “Thanks.” The food gave him something other than her smile to look at.
Logged

Daron Soulstealer
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« Reply #10 on: May 20, 2013, 11:30:02 AM »

Daron nearly jumped out of his exposed skin when the answer for clothing came not from inside but from behind him.  He spun about, careful to keep the hat strategically placed.  Before him stood a tall elf, impressive looking to say the least.  Reaching out, he took the proffered clothes then hurried out to the barn, where a little moment of privacy awarded him opportunity to clothe himself.

Once dressed, he hurried back to the inn, tripping once on the hem of the trousers which were far too long for him.  Catching his balance, he came to a stop before the tall man.  Bowing humbly, he spoke to the man, whom he now recognized as an elf.  "Thank you, kindly, milord.  The clothes fit a little looser than I'm accustomed, but shall serve me well until I can recover my own."

Stepping into the inn, he looked around.  Seeing the faces of more than a few women, Daron's face reddened notably.  "I must apologize for my scant apparel earlier.  Well, let's be honest, my nekkidness.  I happened to be accosted by a band of outlaws in the desert and barely escaped with my life.  I plan to rest here, regroup, and go back in search of those outlaws.  I would be willing to pay anyone stout of heart enough to accompany me on this mission."

His stomach growled with the scent of roasted taenish filled his nostrils.  "But first, could anyone spare a san for me to fill the belly of myself and my friends?"  Three small furry bundles then came scurrying through the doorway and assembled neatly at the man's feet.
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Tristessa Stonebridge
Herald Barmaid
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Human, Helcrani


« Reply #11 on: May 22, 2013, 02:37:48 AM »

"Thanks." Triss saw Ash's cheeks turn red when she brought him his food, though she just assumed it had something to do with the man at the door.

She dared to take a glance towards the doorway. Thankfully, the man was gone, but in his place was a beautiful elven woman. Her dress spoke of an upper class woman, and even the air about her seemed to suggest this as well. She was just a bit taller than Triss herself, but this was nothing new to the barmaid. She gently laid her hand upon Ash's shoulder for a moment, just to alert him to the presence of another customer, as well as to let him know she was leaving.

"Hello, ma'am," Triss said with a small curtsey as she approached the woman. "Welcome to the Thirsty Herald. My name is Tristessa Stonebridge, but feel free to call me Triss. Will you be needin' a room, food, or both? Rooms cost 10 sans for a single bed, 15 sans for two. And we serve several kinds of food and drink."

Before the woman had a chance to answer, the naked man from before came back into the inn, this time, thankfully, with pants on. She saw him glance around the room and must have noticed the large amount of women in the establishment. His face reddened, almost as much as hers had done when she had saw him the first time.

"I must apologize for my scant apparel earlier.  Well, let's be honest, my nekkidness.  I happened to be accosted by a band of outlaws in the desert and barely escaped with my life.  I plan to rest here, regroup, and go back in search of those outlaws.  I would be willing to pay anyone stout of heart enough to accompany me on this mission." A noise coming from his direction of the man's stomach indicated his hunger. "But first, could anyone spare a san for me to fill the belly of myself and my friends?"

"If you and your furry little friends will have a seat at one of the tables, sir, then I can get you a cup of water in a bit. First one is free." She gave him a smile before she turned her attention back to the elven woman in front of her.
Logged

If a good meal and a nights' sleep is what you need,
Come to the Thirsty Herald, where you'll find the best deals around!

~*~Tristessa Stonebridge~*~
Amabella Catston
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Half-Elf, Aellenrhim / Erpheronian


« Reply #12 on: May 23, 2013, 09:24:03 AM »

Amabella looked up and began to read a menu overhead. Then a lovely golden-haired woman approached, and Amabella observed that she had human ears. The woman curtseyed to Amabella and spoke in Tharian.

"Hello, ma'am, Welcome to the Thirsty Herald. My name is Tristessa Stonebridge, but feel free to call me Triss. Will you be needin' a room, food, or both? Rooms cost 10 sans for a single bed, 15 sans for two. And we serve several kinds of food and drink."

Triss came across as polite, helpful, and sensible. Amabella decided to inquire about the cart outside later. For now, she wanted to satiate her hunger quickly.

Amabella was about to respond when the man from outside came in and started speaking. Amabella could see that his hair colour was about as the same her own, and he looked about the same age too. He came across as an attractive youth, but by the appearance of his skin it looked like he had braved many battles. Maybe he was a fierce Shendar warrior? After all, he did have loose trousers and was barefoot, just like the description she once read somewhere in a book.

As the young man spoke, Amabella quickly began to regret that she did not study Truban laws like her boss told her to! She had become bored all too quickly with all the legalese she had to learn. Instead, Amabella had spent the last month strolling leisurely around Strata, enraptured by the "Beauty of the South." She was now wholly unfamiliar with the legal system of the Truban territory.

"I must apologize for my scant apparel earlier.  Well, let's be honest, my nekkidness."

Amabella had a bit of trouble understanding his accent. Perhaps "my nekkidness" was a local form of royal address, like "my lord" or "your highness" ?

"I happened to be accosted by a band of outlaws in the desert and barely escaped with my life.  I plan to rest here, regroup, and go back in search of those outlaws.  I would be willing to pay anyone stout of heart enough to accompany me on this mission. But first, could anyone spare a san for me to fill the belly of myself and my friends?"

Amabella looked at him quizzically. As the man could not afford his breakfast, she was not sure how he intended to pay his adventurers...Alas, she wished she knew how the militia system worked in Truban.  Amabella certainly did not want to offend any potential royal guests or Shendar warriors. She hoped that one of the locals knew the proper thing to say.

Fortunately she heard Triss say, "If you and your furry little friends will have a seat at one of the tables, sir, then I can get you a cup of water in a bit. First one is free."

Triss turned back to Amabella. In a slightly Aerpheriane but genuinely congenial manner, Amabella smiled and replied to her, "Good morning, Triss. My name is Amabella, and I am a merchant of assorted tools and trinkets. I am interested in ordering a meal at the moment. After taking a glance at your menu above, I have decided that it all looks so good. Therefore, as I am quite new to the Truban province, is there a dish that you would recommend?"
« Last Edit: May 23, 2013, 12:37:33 PM by Amabella Catston » Logged

Tristessa Stonebridge
Herald Barmaid
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Human, Helcrani


« Reply #13 on: May 29, 2013, 03:11:03 AM »

"Good morning, Triss. My name is Amabella, and I am a merchant of assorted tools and trinkets. I am interested in ordering a meal at the moment. After taking a glance at your menu above, I have decided that it all looks so good. Therefore, as I am quite new to the Truban province, is there a dish that you would recommend?"

Triss motioned for Amabella to follow her to an empty table as she spoke. "Glad to have you at the Herald, Miss Amabella. Since it is still early in the day, might I recommend the fruzail sweet? It's a delicious mixture of fruits in a slightly sweetened syrup poured over a freshly baked flaky bread. Though, if you were looking for something a bit more hearty, the desert plate meal isn't too terribly large, but it does have some meat and vegetables gathered from the desert.

To quench your thirst we also have our house specialty, Tulimon grape juice. We also have a wide selection of stiffer drinks, if that's more to your liking. And, of course, there's water. Any of those sound good to you?"
Triss smiled, ready to take Amabella's order.
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If a good meal and a nights' sleep is what you need,
Come to the Thirsty Herald, where you'll find the best deals around!

~*~Tristessa Stonebridge~*~
Laell
Blade-Maiden
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Posts: 79

Human, Centoraurian / Eyelian / Erpheronain


« Reply #14 on: May 31, 2013, 04:22:49 PM »

The worst part must have been that the door was already open.

A little caught off guard by the undressed man, Laell had turned away, moved away from the door as the man stepped out, an elven woman, monied at least by her clothing, filled the space and entered, and the man, now at half-nakedness, resumed his place at the inn, apologizing, explaining, and to a degree that Laell found amusing, begging. Able to see yet the elven woman from where she stands, and for an instant is occupied with her own tan peasant skirt and red-brown blouse, conscientiously brushing dust off them with her left hand while her right reaches for the door handle to help pull herself inside.

With a bang and a smarting cheek, Laell finds herself still outside The Thirsty Herald, only now now humiliated and just a touch battered. The other cheek joins the smitten one in color, strictly out of embarrassment, and she tries again, pushing the door open and hanging her head, hoping to sneak in unnoticed. For all the customers coming and going, and the hostess' very busy work to and fro, the place is still too quiet for that. Now inside, Laell turns sharply left toward the tables, tries to take the first step out of the doorway, and bites down on an epithet as her trailing foot's toe catches her lead foot's heel, and the wooden floor of the Herald begins rising up to greet her alarmingly fast.

The red-haired girl's hands and knees save her well before the floor can join in painful conference with her face, and she scrambles back to her feet, now deeply embarrassed. At first glance she considers sharing a table with the formerly naked man; after all, his request for a sword-arm, not to mention his wish for a few sans, seems intriguing; but on second thought, her recent display of agility and acuity have her feeling like much less than a prime candidate. Secondary or tertiary consideration as a hired blade would be generous, she reminds herself as she quickly moves to position herself as far from both the door and other people as possible, finally dropping into a seat, and covering her face.
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On one hand, they claim that it is the result, not the effort given, that will imprint one forever in history; but on the other, is it not the form of the art, rather than the function, that defines its true beauty?
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