Fashion, Fangs, and Fiends

The TarRaCe is getting more and popular every passing day, as the snow continues to fall. It is quite helped by the rumors spreading around the town about something lurking in the snow. The bar is doing double time passing out warm drinks, the stiff drinks, and warm crisps; and the hearty soups and broths were prominently displayed on the menu.

Speaking of prominently, a (relatively now) short and very glisteningly ruddy sith-makar was standing near one of the larger table, with a white shirt tossed over his shoulder and a black apron-slash-loincloth. "Aelwyn! Orders are going out in ten!" A voice calls out, and the Dragoon simply waves his hand dismissively. "Tch, the drinks shan't get cold, nor the food shall starve of heat." The draconian flashes his teeth to the rolled eyes of the callee, before he returns to on looking down at the quite fancy looking breastplate laid out on the table in front of him.

Irshya has arrived.

Bryn doesn't mind the cold so much, or even the snow... but either (or both!) are less enjoyable than a warm room, steamy bath, and/or hot food. The TarRaCe has all of these in one place, so where better to go? She makes her way in out of the falling snow.

Carver is already here, and without her mounds of fur and equipment, she's a scrawny little things. Big shoulders though, which considering her occupation...

She's dressed down in strappy subligar and mantle that preserve modesty amongst mixed company. She spoons at her broth with a distracted air, stirring its content. Perhaps wishing to place the mysterious monstrous origins of the head chef's mad new recipe. Aelwyn's distinctive voice has her look up to mark him. Should accidental eye contact be made? She waves in greeting, by chance including Bryn in the gesture as well. Hey look't people she knows!

The proprietress wanders out of the baths area, wrapped in a white bathrobe, with a white towel wrapped around her lngthy locks of hair. She yawns at length, showing off her array of triangular shark teeth. Wet footprints follow her into the main room, as she sleepily makes her way towards the bar.

Oh no, there are no accidents around Aelwyn. Surely. The Dragoon was raising his breastplate up in the air, carefully turning it in his hands before he spots the tiniest of waves from the corner of his eyes. It takes a moment, then another, a very visible moment of going through all the steps of slow recognition, before he flashes his teeth and raises his hand. "Huntress! Braid! Join this one!" He calls out, even if he wasn't sure if Carver was Carver. One can always sort out mistakes later.

There was a sharp tingling in his neck though; and despite the fresh shiny polish upon his scarred scales, the breastplate is lowered and the white shirt is slowly gets pulled on instead.

Bryn spies the crimson scales, first (they are pretty conspicuous) and offers a greeting. "Ey!" Then, between Carver's greeting and Aelwyn's, she notices Carver... or rather recognizes Carver, looksing another "Ey! Watcha doin?" The question is for both of them as she looks between them; something that gets a a bit awkward when she starts walking Aelwynwards. In the process of spinning her head back and forth, she also notices the towel with the sharp, nasty, pointy teeth.

The Goblin seems to be navigating by habit, for she easily weaves between tables and even the chairs and stools. What she doesn't weave around is Bryn. Instead, Irshya bumps into the Oruch's leg, and stops, leaning on the larger woman's leg.

The sound of snoring is soon heard.

"Hey," Carver says. She balances her bowl as she does as bided, an eye(?) blooping to the top of the stew. She sets it down on the table and rubs her hands together, as all fates converge on an avenging knight stripped of their common accoutrements; a hedge knight without his hedge.

She rubs at her cheek with knuckles, considering what else to say but is interrupted by Irysha's introduction. "Oi, hello to you too. All these faces wot known."

And it is perhaps best for this fine establishment that the fate of the hedge is left unknown. Aelwyn flashes his teeth as the others converge, putting aside the breastplate - before pausing. "Ah." He clicks his teeth. "Someone woke from their slumber." The sith-makar gestures towards Bryn. "Hoist her up and prepare her for coffee." There is more waving towards the bar, as by virtue of hand signaling, the bar gets ready for the sharkie's usual.

"... the soup is tasty, yes?" The draconian asks, with an... 'encouraging' grin.

Bryn's eye blinks as she suddenly has a new leg-attachment, but the tension passes quickly. Seems the toothed one isn't hunting for dark meat, and is known to Aelwyn. "Huh. Ain' had somebody pass out on my leg that fast, since..." She lets her musings trail off with a short laugh and follows Aelwyn's ask. "Sure." She reaches down with her left hand to hoist and heft the semi-conscious toothed towel up and onto the table.

Now she can turn her eye back to Carver, which gives her a once-over. "Ye dressed up 'r down? Don' think I seen ye in that." She gives a tusky smirk. "Though ain' really fightin clothes, I guess." Which would be the times she has seen Carver, more than not.

"What y'mean?" Carver looks down at herself with a frown at Bryn teasing her. "I... guess recently don't really want all of me hanging out, flapping about like. Dinnit used to bother me but guess it does now." She shrugs, uncomfortably, before squinting at Iryshna who has fallen deep back into her sleep even as she is propped up on a seat at the table. "Well, that's gods damn jus' cute."

She glances down to the breastplate, "You finally buy that new armor you been all over the place looking for?"

Irshya is offering Carver a wave, at least, waving in Carver's general direction, when she's lifted upwards. She squeaks and squirms at this development, but settles down as she is seated upon a table. Blinking, her eyes open and she casts her baleful gaze at Bryn. "Oh. Goodness, they grow them tall where you're from."

There's popping and cracking next as she yawns and stretches, vertebrae in her back letting go. The Goblin rubs at her cheeks then, and peers at Carver. Blinks. "You're almost undressed...", she helpfully points out.

She peers then at Aelwyn, and holds out a hand, where upon a mug of coffee is deposited into it by a passing staffer. "Yes, the water is perhaps a little too warm, so I shall go down and adjust the boiler.", Irshya says to Aelwyn.

Aelwyn tilts his head at Bryn, then towards Carver. There's a bit of reptilian squinting of his eyes, before he flashes his teeth. "Could use a little more red - but this one could imagine worse." The still barely dressed makari says, flicking his tail. "Though when one has a powerful body such as Huntress does, it is only right to revel in its glory." Speaking purely in combat terms, of course.

The draconian then gestures towards Irshya. "Sharkie, one of the owners. Please be aware of the teeth." He introduces, helpfully, before tilting his head towards the half-goblin. "Ravenkeeper wished to see one." He mentions, before he finally settles down.

The mention of the armor is waved off. "No, none of the armourers have vision," He says with an annoyed click of his tongue. "Whyfore one's breastplate cannot be on fire like this one's glaive?" Realistic questions. The orange eyes turn towards Bryn and Carver though. "... this one also mentioned that Crimson Pen fan to Ravenkeeper."

Bryn laughs at Carver's response, though it isn't at the other's expense. "Jus used ta seein armor 'n furs 'n all. Ain' a bad look," she clears up, jabbing her right forearm towards Aelwyn. "Like he said." The now soon-to-be-caffeinated sharkie gets a nod at the introduction before Bryn blinks at the lizard. "Flamin armor? Figger somebody could do that? Ye plannin on wrasslin?"

"Horseshoes," Carver argues against Irysha's logic. Close doesn't count in horseshoes and being naked. At Aelwyn's fustration, she lifts a brow. "They, uh, say that the Circle of Yggdrasil can bind raw elements as their armor, since they gave up the craftsmanship of metals that all the dwarves pat themselves on the back about. Not sure that does you much good. In Dran, my homeland, there was one man who swore he could turn a tuft of clouds and a lover's first sigh into impenetrable scale mail of rushing air. He also..." She pantomimes sipping from a cup. "Never seen it with me eyes. Jus' the stories though."

Carver lifts her chin at Aelwyn's last sentence, "Oh. What she say?"

Irshya sips daintily at her coffee, both hands wrapped around the mug, a little sigh of contentment escaping her. "My name is Irshya, thought Aelwyn tends to call me Sharkie. I am also known to some as the pool-shark.", she offers to Bryn. "You are new here, at least, I have not seen you here before. Welcome! And as of this time, I am the sole proprietress. The others are still welcome guests and have a stake, but I run it."

The Goblin raises an eyebrow at Carver, and snorts. "You're practically out of uniform." The eyebrow goes up at the description of magical armor.

Her head tilts. "Cor'lana wants to speak to me?", she wonders of the crimson Sith. "Hmm, I wonder what it's about."

Aelwyn makes a subtle roll of his eyes and tilts his head, before rumbling quietly to Carver. "She is very strict with uniform policy." He lifts and nudges at his half worn white shirt. Then he gets lost into listening Carver's recounting, puipils widening. "Ah, this one heard stories such as-" Bryn's comment distracts him, though, and he flashes his teeth. "No, this one prefers to dance with his blade - the armour would simply get into the way of a good workout with entwining bodies." He flickers his tongue.

The Dragoon shakes his head and raises his head. "No, not the she, but the he." He clarifies. "This one believes he was worried." Then towards Carver and Bryn. "And because of... other fiend trouble, this one believed it were prudent to inform him of this as well." Then he flashes his teeth. "Though surely, a bad protagonist from a novel shan't be cause of much concern." He gives a pointed look towards Carver. "Would Huntress not agree?"

"Brynhildragar," she returns the intro to Irshya. "Great place ye got 'ere!" She hasn't been in the city very long, or here that many times, and it's already one of her favorites. There comes a snort at Carver's tale.. well, the tale in her tale. "Sounds like.. ye..." Bryn nods with the cup-tipping gesture.

Talk of Telamon and fiends draws her promptly back to Aelwyn, though. "What'd blondie do this time? Not that they needa worry bout fiends. Nor nothin else, really."

"Didn't seem like a real threat," Carver admits. "Neither did this weird fella, some mage or another that we got locked up, though he a'least ain't no regular man. Don't know what he is, true, but no regular man he is. Thing is, both jobs, it felt like the end we were gettin' watched."

She frowns at Irysha, "If you want me to put more clothes on jus' say so, boss, but let me get my story out firs'. Right before the snows started, an' all these weird dolls started appearing..." She rubs her cheek with knuckles, "We broke up some kinda attempted robbery that was led by some weird guys who pretended like they were some characters from all those silly little stories. At the end though, laid eyes on one doll in the distance. Long, dark-haired type with burning red eyes like little smolderin' embers."

Another dainty sip of coffee is had, the Goblin obviously enjoying the beverage. "That one also likes to set themselves on fire.", the Goblin idly comments to Bryn. Her expression brightens. "Oh thank you! Happy that you are enjoying it. Have you tried the baths? One of the features that puts us over the top, I think. That and the crew I have." She side-eyes Aelwyn. "When they're tastefully dressed." She side-eyes Carver. "When the customers are usually better dressed too."

Irshya's gaze goes to Aelwyn then. "Oh, he was worried? What about I wonder." The mention of fiends has her pouting sullenly. "Not those cretins again. Let them come here, and I shall jolt them so hard, their skeletons will jump right out of their skins!" Her little foot kicks at the table, and outside, nearby, there's a ripple of thunder and a crackle of lightning. Fog begins to roll in then, filling the room with ankle deep mist.

"Oh. Dolls..." She giggles lightly. "But not the plush animals, right?"

Aelwyn rolls his shoulders at Bryn, "This one does not keep track of him, though this one is certain someone here does." He flashes his teeth. Then he twists his lips at Irshya's comments. "Dance with fire," The draconian corrects, before he flashes his teeth again. "And this one feels as if they _are_ very well dressed." Though his expression changes again, and he eyes Carver, "... perhaps with less mantle and more red ribbons..."

The distraction passes him over, and he nods his head at Carver's words. "Stopped a robbery, and the owner was very pleased." His teeth were shown in very macabre fashion. "Grateful enough to give this one their plushie." He gestures at the mini-Aelwyn he put up near the fireplace. A more sombre expression appears soon though. "Thunder and Shaman asked this one to interview the mage. This one does not know the story behind that one, but this one does not enjoy the fact that one played a fiend."

Which, judging from his sudden grim visage, seemed to be his major beef in all of this.

"He tried to bury Deathless in mud, drown him." Carver says. "It is something I cannot forgive, so... I am staying away from him. It." She rubs at her arms, feeling goosebumps rise. "Next time, I'll keep it in min'. More red ribbons." She had thought it was her sudden rush of anger that caused her nerve endings to rise, but no, after a moment she realizes she was rather responding to Irysha's magic. The smell of ozone and the fog curling around her sandaled feet. She gives a curious kick to see how it reacts. "Neat trick." Magic is NOT necessarily something she understands very well. "I am planning to set out tomorrow. To track down those that escaped. One of them was wounded badly. Even with the snow settling, I bet I can find them."

"Dance with fire looks awfully like setting one's self on fire.", the Goblin comments over her coffee, which she enjoys another sip of." She raises an eyebrow at Carver. "Who or what is Deathless? And you are staying away from the fiend or this Deathless?"

Her gaze shifts to Aelwyn. "Stopped a robbery, is it? And rewarded with armor?" Her gaze follows the Sith's and she gasps, looking momentarily pleased and happy, but it passes quickly, nonchalantly. "Oh, I see you found one shaped like you."

Irshya eyes Carver again. "Do not go alone, bring someone with you. Eztli, perhaps? Or Aelwyn. Maybe Slixvah or even myself, hmm?"

Aelwyn did not mind the fog, or even the lightning - he was quite used to it - but the mention of cold makes him visibly shiver. Yet before all that, he shoots a glance towards Irshya. "'Found one'? It was reward to this one for the heroic deed performed by a very grateful and quite skillful craftsman of the trade! Certainly valuable!"

The Dragoon takes in a deep breath, and then lets the insult flow off him. The breastplate is picked up and he walks around to put his hand on Carver's shoulder again. "Bastard." He states. "Bury them." The draconian nods his head towards Irshya, "An ally too hold the shovel." He adds, before he hoists the breastplate over his shoulder. "This one shall return to service. Do not bite the guests for dressing appropriately," The draconian tells Irshya with a gesture, and then starts heading off towards the kitchen with his lazy, hip rolling gait.

"Deathless is my horse. She is an Aldui Red, who runs like the wind." Carver says, smiling. It fades after a second and she nods. "Sure. Help is always nice. Come along. Can you ride a horse?" Aw yeah, best buddy adventures out in the wild. She does lean in to whisper, "Aelwyn makes too much noise."