Wing Things
Log Info
- Title: Wing Things
- Emitter: Cryosanthia
- Characters: Cryosanthia, Zant, Aya, Nels, Braelnoir, Deanna, Elleandra, Garrett, Aodhan
- Place: A07: Fernwood Pub
- Time: Wednesday, March 04, 2020, 4:20 PM
- Summary: Cryo and the half-elf are working as servers for the Fernwood Pub, although there seems to be some conflict between them. Truthsayer Zant arrives, followed soon by Aya and Nels. The types of services offered are discussed, as well as tonight's special, 'Wing Things', which appear to be something resembling chicken wings, but not exactly. As meals are devoured, Braelnoir awakes very loudly. Cryo goes to check on her and discovers that her transformation has regressed enough that the silvery chimera has hands again, and her scythe, which may have been hiding in her body as one of her tails. The sith-makar assists the chimera while a few more patrons arrive downstairs, namely Elleandra and Deanna. Conversation continues until Garrett enters and attempts to join the Aya and Elleandra, with the latter completely mistaking him for someone else. As she storms out, Aodhan arrives, the half-elf server comes back on duty, and Cryo goes off shift to head back to Mictlan.
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-<* A07: Fernwood Pub *>--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
The common room of the Fernwood Pub dominates the inn, spacious and airy because of the high, vaulted ceiling. Ornately carved beams of dark, polished wood form a lattice overhead, supporting the arched roof two storeys above the floor. To the right of the double-door entry is a spiral staircase, winding upwards to a balcony that rings and overlooks the main area. Large windows at this level grant an excellent view of the river to the west and colorful market stalls to the north and east. An air of coziness is salvaged by keeping the pub dimly lit; parchment-shrouded mana lanterns hang at intervals from the base of the balcony, nestled amongst lush, magically propagated ivy and ferns that grow over this false demi-ceiling and the struts that support it.
The bar is sleek and simple, comprised of meticulously polished black lacquer. Tables are set under the darker niches formed by the balcony floor as well as on the balcony itself. A few are deliberately sized to accommodate halflings and gnomes, but the majority are meant for human-sized individuals. A large common table is on the main floor, set before a semi-circular stage situated against the western wall. Beside it, with pipes mounted upon the wall and running up past the balcony and almost to the ceiling, is a refurbished pipe organ made to look like the one lost when the Fernwood was destroyed during the Merkabah Siege.
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-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Appearing, in Order =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Cryosanthia 6'7" 245 Lb Sith-Makar Female A dashingly tall, lithe white lizardgirl with tattoos. Zant 6'0" 190 Lb Human Male Olive-skinned, wild-haired young man in simple clothes Aya 4'7" 105 Lb Shadow Elf Female Mul'niessa. Braided hair. Simple clothing. Nels 3'7" 42 Lb Goblin Female Tall, for a goblin, and athletic. Close-cut black hair. Braelnoir 5'11" 246 Lb Silver Chimera Female A rough and tumble brunette wielding a scythe and a feral grin. Deanna 5'2" 125 Lb Dawn Elf Female Elf maiden with light brown hair Elleandra 5'4" 108 Lb Wild Elf Female Blue-haired, green-eyes, Sylvanori in green leather. Garrett 5'8" 160 Lb Half-Elf Male A human in black leather, constantly wearing a hood Aodhan 5'0" 130 Lb Wild Elf Male An intense Sylvanori with flame red hair. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
It's a nice day outside, blue sky, fluffy fast moving clouds, enough sunlight it's warm where it directly lands. Many are out and about because of the pleasant weather, and that means the Fernwood Pub is busy, with locals and adventurers, stopping by for a late lunch or early dinner.
Two of the regular servers are out, the half-elf and the sith-makar. The half-elf is at the bar, making small talk with the bartender while she leans on it with both elbows. The sith-makar is parked over by the stairs and the kitchen entrance. It gives her a decent perspective on the tables and the main door.
A low hum of conversation exists, as the diners work on their food and drinks.
The door to the pub is brought sweeping open in a quick, bombastic motion accompanied by an equally bombastic stomp of a foot through the treshold. The sight brought in from the outside is... one that should not fit into the cold weather outside. A darker-skinned human man, with a wild mane of hair, dressed up in short-sleeved shirt that doesn't look like it offers all that much protection against the cold at all, accompanied by somewhat loose pants. And as if to add further emphasis to how much the man present doesn't fit into the scenery outside, there's... even a small pile of snow gathered on top of his head and his shoulders. But in spite of that, his green eyes sparkle and his smile is wide and bright. Hey, at least he has two scarves wrapped along his neck, one end of each left flowing about like twin tails over his back.
One hand wrapped up in cloth in a martial fashion sweeps up to wipe the snow off of him before the man steps in the rest of the way with a sharp breath. "Whew! Kinda cold outside!" He chimes out, seemingly to no one in particular while he moves towards the bar counter. "Doooo you serve tea? Or warm milk?"
"Yessss. We serve thaat." The Half-elf server drawls in a bored fashion. She's closest to the door, and so is the first to answer. She twirls a curl of her hair around her finger as she looks at the new entrant. "Do you waant some? With waarm milk?"
The sith-makar server, meanwhile looks up and gives the new customer a quick once over, noting how he isn't dressed for the season. She examines his boots, since, sometimes those hold the key. She also makes a gesture at a few empty spots, at tables and stools at the bar.
"Oooh, I'll take the tea and the milk. Seperate, though!" The man slaps his palms together lightly as he says this to the half-elf. "I like my tea on it's own. No sugar or anything either. But the milk's good for the body!"
His boots don't... seem any kind of special at all. In fact, they look kind of cheap, for that matter. The white and gold scarves he wears seem like they hold the most expensive fabric out of anything else he wears, and they flutter in the air behind him when he spins around to move towards the seats gestured to by the sith-makar.
"Okaaay," The half-elf drawls, looking at the Bartender and waving her hand. He speaks through the window to the kitchen. A few minutes later a pot and a couple mugs are up. He arranges them on a tray, nods at the sith-makar.
She moves from where she is to collect it, then sets it down on the table in front of Zant. A pot of tea, an empty mug, one full of milk, a saucer, a spoon and a small bowl of sugar on the side, since sugar comes automatically it seems. The sith picks that up, and sets it back on the bar.
She announces herself, "Hello, I'm Cryosanthia, Cryo if you like. I'll be handling your table. Are you interested in anything to eat? That's a nice scarf. Are you a thespian?"
While the man with the two scarves waits at the table, he does rub his hands against each other. Maybe the cold *does* get to him afterall, in spite of appearances. And with Cryo coming to bring the drinks to him, he looks up... and further up than he was expecting to, before meeting the Sith's face. "Hello, Cryosanthia~," he greets the lizardgirl in return, cheerfully. "I am Truthsayer Zant. At your service."
The mug of milk is cradled within his cloth-wrapped hands, first, and brought up carefully for sipping. "Mmm. Hmm? Oh, no, no..." With a low laugh, he snatches the end of one of those two scarves, and gives it a little twirl. "Not at all. I just like these things."
Nels enters the Fernwood and makes her way back to an empty table, settling into it with a yawn. She has chosen the table next to Zant, and she gives him a kind of lazy nod of acknowldgement before slouching back in the chair.
The Fernwood serves as home away from home for some, simply home, or former home, for others. Others, still, may simply enjoy the offered fare. Aya enters the establishment without comment upon, nor apparent disagreement with, the weather outside. Her steps take her directly to the simple bar to request a likewise simple glass of wine, albeit a step above the house option.
"Neat. They are nice looking. I'm a Speaker. What's a Truthsayer?" Cryo asks, casually leaning back and hooking one of her hands on the apron stringers. Her tail coils slowly back and forth behind her.
She gives a quick glance around in case anyone is signalling for her. She nods, spotting Nels, then returns her attention to Zant.
The bartender nods at Aya's request, selects a botte and pours a glass of wine then sets it in front of her.
Nels huhs at Cryo's nod, but is in no rush, slouching in her seat and not in any hurry, it would seem.
"Truthsayers are those of a Daeusite Order devoted to expressing His ideals of truth and light. And hope. We act as advisors, teachers and diplomats with the temple, usually-- with the ideal of spreading the hope of the Sun's light." With that explanation, Zant pauses briefly to sip at the milk again. "Mmm. We all undertake an Oath of Truth. S'why we're called Truthsayers."
A look up to Cryo, and that smile of his alone seems to make the skin of his face radiate warmth and subtle light. He's a bright sort, this one. "I would say thank you, but I'm not the one who made them, hah! If I see the person who did, I'll let them know."
The shared explanation provokes a sliver of a smile at the bar, as well, though Aya's countenance would be considered anything but lit or radiant. She doesn't add her own comment, though that may be due to her prompt service; she is likewise swift to leave coin on the counter and take up her glass for a sip.
The white-scale sith grins at the explanation, laughing a little. "Well, that makes it sound obvious. Spreading sunlight and advice is good. I'd think an Oath of Truth might get in the way of Diplomacy though. Let me know if you need anything more, I'll swing by again." She winks, tapping as she brings her hands in to her sides.
Cryo slips over to Nels' table. She rests her hands on the edge and crouches down, enough to bring her to the seated woman's height. She leans in, with her neck stretching out to bring her head closer. "How you holding up? Want anything to eat? Drink? The special is Wing Things, or Thing Wings, tonight. Sure are a lot of them. Can scare up some other food if you want."
Zant gives a subtle cough at the Sith's words, and his smile turns a bit more sheepish with it. "Yes, well... We aren't *terribly* popular with certain political bodies, it's true... But we do tend to be called on more when there is an explicit desire for fair treatment. Or as neutral arbitrators." He wiggles his fingers lightly to her before she turns to the other table. "I'll ask you about the food once you've checked on her. I'm in no hurry."
Nels yawns broadly, manners bedamned, and huhs to Cryo, then ohs, "Oh, no, wings sound fine," she says. "Goblin-spicy," she specifies, which is kind of medium hot, but with a slight taste of gunpowder. "And beer, of course." She looks around the pub a bit belatedly.
Aya hopes that not all of the wing things... or things' wings are the flavor Nels requests. First, though, another question comes to mind. "Dare I ask what manner of ...thing these wings were plucked from?" she inquires of the server.
Cryo was leaning in a little close to Nels, in an undivided attention sort of way that can be mildly unsettling. With a food order given, she rises and nods. "Goblin-spicy Wing Things, and a Beer. Coming right up!" She makes a two-finger gesture towards the Bartender, pulling his attention away from the half-elf.
It's at that point she notices the somewhat familiar Mul'neissa. The sith freezes in place, then slowly relaxes. Cryo meets the eye of the half-elf. She engages in a silent communication with the other server, a language of glances and glares: She's right there, serve her. Oh you do it, I have important flirting. You're always complaining about me getting the tips. She doesn't look like much of a tipper, have at. The sith-makar breaks it off with a blink and exhales strongly. Aya's question hangs there, awaiting an answer.
Cryo turns to Zant instead. "I'll keep that in mind, in case I need an arbiter. So, the hot food tonight is Wing Things. Baked or Fried with your choice of sauces. There are some roots, and sandwhiches which can be made from the cold meats. Chef can whip up some other things on request, but they'll take longer. Was there something you fancied?"
The white-scale lobs a general explanation to the Fernwood Pub. "I'm not sure. I think if they were poultry they would be Chicken or Buffalo wings. So, things that have wings that have meat on them. Maybe some legs. Back legs. Chef assures they're good and a lot of them for the price."
The half-elf server near Aya elaborates with a shrug and returns to making eyes at the Bartender.
The rapid exchange of subtle looks and gestures isn't lost on Zant, apparently. He peeks at the two waiters from over the rim of his mug of milk, green eyes switching from side to side constantly in time with the silent conversation. He might not be able to assess what exactly it is, but he's paying close enoguh attention to realize *something* is up. He's not really planning on bringing it up, though.
When the lizard's attention turns to him again, he tilts his head slightly to one side in a canine-like show of curiousity. "Mmmmh... I don't think I've had wings of any kind before. Surprise me?"
Nels wonders to Cryo, "Why would chicken's wings be called Buffalo wings? I would assue those were wings from a buffalo? I understand the wings on a buffalo are small, which is why they do not fly, and that's lucky in several ways. Your umbrella wouldn't protect you, for one."
Aya notices the glances and the answer/non-answer. The server nearest her gets a long look. "I would wager that you would make better wages, and provide better service, elsewhere. A brothel, perhaps?" At least she wasn't the one handling Aya's glass nor wine. To the white-scaled one, she notes, "I trust that you are compensated by effort and not solely by time? If not, you may wish to reconsider."
"You got it! One surprise coming up." Cryosanthia seems very confident in that statement to Zant.
"There in... a minute." She tells Aya without really looking her way.
She grins and shrugs helplessly at Nels, "Ahh... yes, to all of those, and I don't know why. Maybe because they're so hot you feel trampled by the buffaloos whose wings you're eating? And what would you need a para... oh. Yow."
Next, Cryo is off towards the kitchen throwing one more long lingering glance at the half-elf. Which is ignored, as the half-elf is too busy glaring eyes at Aya.
Cryo vanishes through the door and can be heard giving the orders, then returns to the front. She waits just outside the door, standing there as it slowly swings closed. Holding her breath and not looking around. Finally she inhales strongly, marches over to Aya.
"Welcome to the Fernwood Pub. I'm Cryo, your server. Is there anything you'd like to eat? We have Wing Things, and their sauces, written on the board. Also some vegetables and cold sandwhich meats. Chef can make special orders, but they may take time. Drinks, ask our bartender here, he's great. I'm compensated for both, it's fine. I quite enjoy working here."
"I hope that you make far more than that one," Aya opines to Cryosanthia with a slight head-tilt to indicate the half-syl, along with a half smirk "You seem the knowledgable, courteous, and active one, while she seems more ... scenery. Ensuring that the bar does not rise off of the floor, perhaps?" Her expression then softens. "Meats and bread, please." She offers prepayment, along with a generous tip. Possibly to reward the sith, or simply to spite the half-breed's presumptions.
Nels nods to Cryo's wings explanation, and nods as she works out the problem with flying buffaloes. "Exactly." She watches the exchange between Aya and Cryo and the other server in puzzlement, she must have missed the beginning of what went on there.
"Um... Is there some kind of problem?" Zant's voice can be heard piping up from his table over there, just as he lowers the mug of milk from his lips, setting it down onto the table. "Seems a bit harsh to speak to the workstaff like that, even if you are paying them."
"It's a.. contentious topic. I do." Cryo leans in to answer Aya in a low voice, watching her fellow server more than the mul'neissa. She slips the coins into her apron, and nods, "Meat and Bread, yes. Coming up."
The sith moves towards the kitchen as a few other tables call out, "Server, over here." She smies awkwardly, making a 'wait' gesture to the tables and leaving Aya and Zant to discuss what they will.
"I'm on break." The half-elf announces, glares all around, and stalks off towards their back room. At first with a heavy roll of her hips, which vanishes suddenly as she remembers Aya's words. It makes for a very awkward looking exit.
Cryo is out of sight for a while, and then she returns with a tray. She picks up a waiting beer at the bar, and drops that off with Nels, along with her order. A plate piled high with battered and fried wings. They are covered in a honey-thick, dark and gritty sauce. Alongside is a dipping bowl, which resembles a tiny hollowed out canon filled with sour cream.
Zant's order of Wing Things is placed, similarly a large pile, unsauced, with several small bowls of various dipping mixtures, as well as a regular sour cream boat. She indicates in order, "Hmm... honey, hot, gunpowder, terryaki, mustard, screaming Kobold, sour cream. Enjoy! Let me know how they are."
Aya's meal is delivered, a plate of sliced meats, each slice rolled and stacked to form a pyramid composed of five types. Each corner and the top is a different kind. Two are light kinds, possibly chicken or turkey, and one is some sort of peppered sausage. The second plate has a loaf, a knife, and large blocks of cheese and butter. "I can get you sauces. I can never tell if people like things sauced or plain. I'll... return. I need to check those other tables first."
She taps the bar in front of Aya while looking at the Bartender, a 'keep her drink freshed' signal, then slips off to gather the other orders.
Nels ooohs as her meal arrives, and she offers a brief, "Thanks!" before digging in with apparent gusto, and a bit of disconfiture for the patrons that don't see a transformed goblin that simply looks human and are watching, slightly aghast, at a human eating something usually only goblins and some of the crazier dwarves and orcs will eat.
Aya looks over at the inquiry of problems. "Not that I'm aware," she offers in answer to Zant in the span between awkward exit of the half-syl and Cryo's return with service of fare to several. "This is perfect as it is. Thank you." The last is to the Sith in gratitude and in decline of further sauce. A slice is made from the loaf and accoutrements added to the bread conveyance before Aya dines.
"I... I don't see why you saw it necessary to insult the other server then, miss," Zant murmurs in response to the Mul'niessa, his previously bright expression dimming a bit with a pursisng of his lips. "Everyone has their own lives and problems behind them. It only hurts to make presumptions." A low sigh is given, and he takes the pot of tea nearby to pour some of it's contents into his cup. "...Besides, I imagine they have a hard enough time working with drunks being rowdy and trying to grope them. It might not be as bad here as in one of those bars in the Warehouse district, but... Customer service can be a prickly profession at times, you know?"
With the wings brought to his table, the young man's eyes widen up while taking in the sight of them. "W-...wow..." is all he manages to let out at first, but as the sauce types are listed out, his eyes take to blinking rapidly. "S-...screaming Kobold?"
One wing is taken from the plate, considered between his fingers thoughtfully, before it is brought up to his lips and lightly nibbled on. Just to try the taste.
Cue eyes widening and a bright spark lighting up within the green irises.
"It's something spicy, that makes you scream like a little kobold!" The white-scale sith laughs, calling back to Zant. "And we have a strict no touching policy, it's a... yeah. It exists."
As Cryo is the only server on the floor, she's occupied for several minutes getting food and drink orders, putting them in and returning with them. A few of the tables settle up and leave, new regulars arrive, and the process repeats itself. It allows everyone time alone with their meals. No surprises in Aya's case, though there might be for Zant.
Finally she's free and back in the general area by the bar. Cryo is careful to not lounge against it in exactly the same place the half-elf was.
She looks over at Zant, "Seems like you're enjoying those, good? Need any more sauces? How about either of you? Everything Good?" Her gaze switches between Aya and Nels.
Nels works on her goblin wings as the gawking fades into just-another-day-in-Alexandria, and she chases the wings with a swig of beer, belching loudly, just as one fellow was maybe thinking of heading over to talk to the apparently human girl eating by herself. He resumes his seat, having changed his mind, and Nels is spared another awkward conversation. But she's pleased with time alone with her food. "'m fine," she says to Cryo, yawning broadly.
Aya pauses between bites to note to Zant, "I simply shared my observations: one handled the majority while the other did little to nothing. As she seemed focused in other directions, I suggested that she might be more content to pursue those interests. I complimented the one making the effort and hoped that she was compensated accordingly." She takes another bite and finishes it before adding, "Would you prefer that I had lied?"
Aya turns back to her food.
"...You told the other server to try working as a prostitute," Zant says, bluntly, with a wrinkle of his nose. "Speaking in a manner that isn't so controntational does not require lying." He lets out a deep sigh, and tears another chunk off of the wing in his hand.
Cryo is greeted with another sparkly-eyed look and a nod of his head. "It's very good! I think I am good for now. Thank you."
"You got a little..." Cryo says to Nels, holding up a finger and gesturing to her own teeth. She decides to abandon that line of advice. The woman will figure things out, and it's probably serving as a backup line of defense.
"It's... it's complicated." The sith-makar says, putting her hands behind her and holding onto the bar so she can lean backwards against it. "She's been here longer, and the other server, the human one, gets better tips too. She used to, but when I started the tips became more for service and not looks, and she's always had a chip because she was a half-elf and that made things worse. Some lizard girl can beat her hands down, in her mind. I know she likes working here, but not when I am, and I can't not be myself. She was friendly at first, then got cold. I'm not sure what to do. It's sad."
"Do you need any more food, dessert? More drinks?" Cryo attempts to switch subjects.
Nels looks back and forth between Aya and Zant, confused, perhaps. It's hard to tell with goblins: sometimes they're just waiting for something to explode. It usually doesn't take much of a wait. She finishes her plate of Goblin-style wings-of-something and pushes it back with a contented sigh. She hrms as Cryo points out the bit stuck in her teeth, and she'll pluck it out, then swallow it. Strangely, stuff in the teeth is not nearly as huge a deterrent against men as it is against women. At Cryo's question, she calls, "Another beer?" Indeed, hers is almost drained.
Meanwhile, upstairs, someone pretty massy apparantly falls out of bed. There is a soft scraping against the wood... another, then stillness.
"Mmm..." Zant lets out in a thoughtful sound while Cryo speaks up. He dips one wing into one of hte sauces meanwhile, and nibbles on it... only to end up wincing a bit and mumbling "Hot, hot hot hot..." and taking a sip of milk to douse the spicy aftertaste.
"I take it you would prefer to make things good with her?" He asks of Cryosanthia then, once his tastebuds have calmed down. "You don't strike me as someone who would be content with just asking for opposing shifts from her."
The mul'neissa shrugs and turns away from the conversation.
"A beer, you got it." The bartender pours, the sith-makar server takes it over. Nels has her drink before she finishes her first. Teamwork.
Cryo glances upstairs, hearing the thump, reasonably confident about the cause. Should be okay, not need intervention.
She exhales, sinking a little against the bar as she does. She glances over at Aya before turning her head to face Zant. "Well, yes. I don't run from things. Usually. What do you think would help?"
Nels puts some coins on the table for Cryo, enough for the bill and a decent tip, then drains the second beer in one long, long pull. Her belch reverberates, but she looks pleased with it. Having completed her mission, she yawns and will head upstairs to her own room. She can't really rent in goblintown looking like this, can she? Anyhow, the rooms are mostly too small. Or too Arvekky.
...upstairs... the dulcet tones of someone waking into a hangover... of a bucket being pressed into emergency service.
"I think, ask her to take point on some customers while you are on shift with her," Zant tells Cryo, in between content sips of his tea. "Show her you appreciate working with her, like that, and that you do need help handling things, too. It's... a simple method and not as likely to backfire, but admittedly it might not work, depending on her personality. Hard for me to tell from just now meeting you, two. But it would be a start. In general, people want to feel appreciated."
The sounds emenating from upstairs bring him peeking up to the ceiling, with a raise of brows. "...Ah. And here I was wondering if that sound was exclusive to the Ox afterall."
Between the croons of purging, there is a murmur of something. More scraping, much faster and a couple of heavy, strangely solid sounding foot(?)falls in a vaguely staggery pattern, upstairs.
"Okay... I'll try that." Cryosanthia says, glancing upstairs as she hears more noises, tilting her head to decipher those sounds. "That's a friend. She's having a hard time. I'll check on her if she doesn't show up soon. Come to think, I haven't seen Kaelyn in a few days. She's likely working on her detecting device. Artificers. I should check on her too."
She sweeps the coins off Nels' table, putting them in her apron and picks up the empty plates. She drifts towards the kitchen, backing into it and dropping them off to be washed, then she's back out again. She takes a couple steps upstairs, calling, "Braelnoir? You okay there hon? Need a hand?"
The Fernwood Pub has been mentioned several times to Elly since she arrived in the city. After a few weeks of failing to follow-up on it, and almost dying a couple times, she finally decided to visit. And so here she is, pushing the door open with an expression that borders on wary. After a moment her eyes adjust and she immediately takes a liking to the place. "This seems homey enough, in its own fashion," she murmurs as she lets the door close behind her.
"If I see her when I drop by next time and you're not around, I'll see about getting a feel no her, too," Zant tells Cryo. "See if I can't figure out how to encourage her."
He allows Cryo to take charge on worrying about the noises upstairs, since it's someone she knows, and he focuses instead on eating. For a moment, anyway. When the door goes, he peeks that way to see who came inside, and... he ends up with his bright green eyes lingering on the coloration of Elleandra's hair. Slowly, he blinks his eyes, with a faint sparkle within them.
Upstairs, something settles heavily onto a bed with enough inertia to shift it slightly, a couple more scrapings and then, as if in response to Cryosanthia's query comes almost hysterical laughter, definately that of a woman.
"Thanks Zant, this one would appreciate that." Cryo answers Zant, still hovering by the stairs.
The pub itself is moderately busy, small clusters of Alexandrians at tables or sitting singly at the bar. The few stand-outs are a Mul'neissa woman, at the bar and quietly watching everyone, the two who were talking when Elleandra entered: a man who seems underdressed for the weather and has two rather brilliant looking scarves and a white-scaled sith-makar woman, wearing a 'Fernwood Pub' apron over her leather armour and currently looking upstairs. The notepad in her apron suggests she is the server tonight, and she looks comfortable in the role.
Glancing over at the door, she waves, "Elleandra? Hello! Welcome to the Fernwood. Have a seat anywhere, do you want a drink? The special tonight is Wing Things. I'll be just a minute, I really should check on that."
Cryo heads upstairs, calling, "Braelnoir, you okay there?"
Elly honestly hasn't been a pub in some time. She's always been cooking for herself and camping outside. Still, this place is comfortable. It's roomy, unlike most of the rooms she's seen. She looks around for a moment before she hops at the sound of her name. Seeing Cryo, she perks up and laughs in delight. She settles herself at the bar, "I'd love a drink. And I will try the special, as well. I can't learn the area if I don't learn the food, after all." She looks to Zant, then, offering a polite wave and smile to him.
The laughter breaks off as the voice replies almost breathlessly, "Aye... aye!" more laughter easing into an almost deamy sigh before there again come the sound of heavy, solid foot(?)falls, "Gimme a minute, luv!" She sounds fairly pleased, whatever it is.
The Bartender takes a guess, and puts a small pot of tea in front of Elleandra, as well as an empty mug. He moves a small sugar bowl over near her, and gestures at the rack behind, "Wine, Beer, what's your pleasure?" Her order is signaled through the window to the kitchen.
"I will do what I can, Cryo," Zant offers with a warm, almost shining smile. "Everyone deserves the Sun's light. It shines on all things that allow it to."
The wave rom Elleandra is returned with a little wiggling of his fingers, and his face seems to radiate a light of it's own all over again. "Hi there," he calls out. "Elleandra, is it? I am Truthsayer Zant, at your service. Your hair has very eyecatching colors. I like it."
A brown haired elven woman walks her way into the tavern and simply glides to the bar...speaking to the barkeep. "Wine please...your finest if possible." She says sliding into a barstool and seeming to relax a little bit.
"If you have some spiced wine," begins Elleandra, "It would be most welcome." She pours herself some tea, taking a small drink of it before adding a spoonful of sugar. The sounds in the pub are.. interesting tonight. She assumes this is what always happens here.
When Zant speaks, she turns to him and nods. A moment later she slips from her seat and offers a curtsey, her head bowing politely. "I am Elleandra, Truthsayer Zant. You can call me Elly, if you like. And thank you! I really like your scarves!" She settles back into her seat and asks, "If it is not rude to ask, what land are you from, Truthsayer?"
"Okay," Cryosanthia's voice can be heard faintly upstairs, as well as a knocking. "Can I come in now, what's that rattling?"
The bartender nods, producing a nicely fluted wine-glass and selecting a bottle. He uncorks it, lets it breathe a moment, then pours a glass for the brown haired elven woman. He leaves the bottle there.
He selects a spiced wine, placing it near Elleandra, along with a glass. "This one has a cinnamon and apples flavour. Enjoy." Long distance to Elleandra: Cryosanthia nods, "I know! No one, then suddenly crowd! I have to scroll back so much."
Zant seems, perhaps, a bit surprised by the gesture from Elleandra, and he gives a little laugh while shaking waving his hand in the air. "No need to be so formal with me! And just 'Zant' is fine, really." Over the compliment on his scarves, he lifts the tail end of one up and twirls it around for a moment. "I would say 'thank you', but... Like I told Cryosanthia over there, I didn't make them, so I can't claim any credit or praise. And me? I come from Isobar." Kind of a darker skin tone than most people from Isobar have, though.
A pause, then, "Huh? Oh, yeah, yeah, come in." comes the response, then a "Whoop-!" and something falls to the floor.
Elleandra's smile broadens as her wine is delivered. "Perfect! Exactly what I was dreaming of last night." She takes hold of it with graceful familiarity and swirls it as she takes in its scent. A pleasured sigh is let out slowly and she the smallest taste is taken.
Remembering herself, Elly's cheeks flash pink a moment. "My apologies, Tru--that is, Zant. I fear that there are some pleasures that tempt me into rude behavior. I hope no offense was taken!" She laughs at his reaction to her admiration of his scarves. "There is something to be said of one who makes lovely selections, too, though. And Isobar? How wonderful! What led you to this place?" She cannot help but notice the other woman enjoying wine at the bar and she offers a subtle wave and a polite nod.
"Order up, here." The bartender puts a plate of Wing Things in front of Elleandra. It's a large pile of breaded 'chicken wings', or things that resemble them. Fried, they look good and bad at the same time. There is an array of dipping sauces for them. It's easily more than enough for one person and could be shared.
From upstaris, Cryo can be heard saying, "Okay, coming in", and there's the squeak of a door opening.
The brown haired elf sips at the wine and smiles slightly. Apparently, quality is better than quantity. She even recorks the bottle and sets a few gold on the bar. "Mmm....been a while since I've had good wine."
Inside, the chimera is standing with her back to the door, tail lashing behind her as she considers her forelimbs. Her scythe lays at her hooves, looking like it landed pointfirst in the wood, but the weight and angle pulled it free rather than let it stand as there is a small torn up patch in the floorboard, "... she's right...." A short laugh and, "She was right...!"
Elly's initial words to Zant are met with a curous sideward cock of the young man's head, eyes blinking slowly once, twice. He doesn't question her on it verbally, but the curiousity and confusion is visible enough. "I am rather fond of them, too," he admits, in regards to his scarves, and lets the one twirled in his hand fall back down to drape over his shoulder. "Oh... Seeking my own path, mostly. And wanting to be of greater help to people. The Truthsayers can work pretty widely from here in Alexandria, with all the physical travel routes and teleportation magic, you know?"
At the whooping upstairs, he peers towards the stairs and calls, "You two alright up there?"
"That's your scythe! And you pulled it out of your body? From where?" Cryo's voice is loud with surprise, "Wait, magic, of course, it goes somewhere." The same place her gloves and gauntlets go when she brings out her claws. Best not to think too hard about it. "Hey, you're down to one tail! And your dewclaws are bigger!"
Interesting changes seem to have happened, "I can't see your forearms, are your paws...?"
"It's Ok! Yes, thanks Zant." Cryo calls back down.
Elly tilts her head at the food. Hmm. She knew humans tend to favor meat, but to have a whole meal with nothing but meat is curious to her. She smiles thoughtfully and for a moment, she's in her own little world. She tests the wings, then each of the sauces. She asks of the bartender, "May I have a bowl with some greens in it and perhaps.. a tomato and an onion? Oh, and perhaps a pepper? Red would be just right, if you have it."
Wrestling her attention back to the conversation, she nods slowly. "I can see how that would be very helpful. Though I haven't seen.. teleportation magic? I know of the magic, but can anyone use that, or only the wealthy?" For some reason, Elly seizes on this, her voice showing even more excitement than normal.
"Yes, of course." The bartender nods, putting a second order into kitchen for the requested vegetables, "It'll be a few minutes."
Braelnoir blinks and curls her tail around for a quick peek, "Huh, dind't even..... Huh." She stoops over, and several gleaming digits curl around the haft of the weapon and she lets out a breath in a little 'Ha!' She straightens, hefting it before bringing the other hand up to encircle it, cradling the implement to her as if in reunion before she turns, "She said they sometimes burn out..."
"There's a lot of magic-users in the city who can wield that magic," Zant explains to Elly. "Many of the Guilds here have wizards on retainer specifically to provide quick transportation to other regions on emergency notice, see. Particularly the Adventurer's Guild, see? I've just recently been allowed to use teleportation on a diplomatic mission to The Vast and back, too. ...Though, I suppose that one was sourced out through the Adventurer's Guild too, now that I think about it."
"Hands! You have your hands back!" There is a gleeful squeal, then a loud thump as Cryo does something. "This is great!"
Downstairs, the bartender glances in the general direction and says, "I need you down here Cryo." He turns and gets the newest order from the kitchen, what appears to be a bowl of vegetable soup, a steamed onion and steamed carrot strips, as well as a raw tomato and a wedge of lettuce. He moves it in front of Elleandra.
Elleandra looks thoughtfully at what she was given. She murmurs something under her breath, clearly not expecting them to go off and cook things for her. "Well, art is all about flexibility," she explains to no one in particular. Having an empty cup that held tea a moment ago, she goes into action. She empties the broth from the soup into it. Reaching into her pack, she draws out a worn but extremely sharp knife and sets to dicing the tomato and slicing the onion. The steaming has taken a bit of the bite off the scent of the onion, but those nearby would notice it still. These two are tossed into the drained soup bowl with the other vegatables. Moments later, the lettuce is cut and added. The Sildanyari completes her work by cutting the meat and adding it. A final selection of sauce and she swirls the ingredients around.
As if coming out of a trance, she shakes herself to look back to Zant, and continues the conversation as if no time had passed. "Well, that is good. Oh, and to the Vast? I lived there for many years. A fascinating place, isn't it? Were you able to complete your work successfully?"
Braelnoir tosses aside the scythe as Cryo moves in and give her a tight hug in turn
Some laughter and another, "Whoop!" before there is a quick, heavy step back and, again comes the sound of something metal hitting the floor. A few moments later, Brae says "Thank Gods! B'down in a few, luv, don't wanna getcha'n trouble, now."
Deanna swirls the wine around and finally gets up from her seat to look to Elleandra as she seems to be cutting vegatables. "Making a stew?" She says softly to Elleandra....before she looks to Zant and gently nods her head.
The bartender watches Elleandra's post-delivery food prep with mild interest and no expression. Curious, perhaps. What the Cook's opinion's of her improvements might be is unknown, he can't see her efforts.
Indistinct happy noises are heard, followed by, "Okay, get your clothes adjusted, come downstairs," and Cryo reappearing at the top of the steps. The sith-makar descends down into the Fernwood, glances around and blinks. The bartender signals several drinks he has lined up on a tray, with little table labels. She slinks into action, picking up the orders and weaving around the room delivering them.
"It was... an interesting affair, I will say that much," Zant tells Elly in answer. "Worked with a settlement there to get a deal with elementals to help the growth of plantlife where it shouldn't have been possible. I am... hopeful."
He happens to sip at tea just in time with Cryo saying something about adjusting clothes, and there's a very visible sputter on his part, forcing him to pull the tea away from him while red color gathers on his cheeks. He tactfully elects *not* to say anything of it when Cryo comes back downstairs, however.
In response to Deanna's question, Elly explains, "Kind of.. deconstructing one, you might say." She takes a drink of the broth thoughtfully, then sets to eating her rather 'alchemical' meal. As she eats, she goes on, "Sometimes I just have the urge to create, and I don't really like the idea of having a meal that I don't put some energy into. I want to give something of myself to every meal I can."
"Well, I'm glad you were able to help them," she says to Zant. His 'drinking problem' draws Elly's gentle laughter. "It's a boisterous place, isn't it? Is it always so lively here?"
Cryo is occupied with the drinks, collecting empty plates, and otherwise catching up on server things. Once those tasks are finally done she resumes her 'waiting' position near the bar, where she can see most things going on. Relaxed, her tail sways slowly behind her.
Whoever is upstairs moves around a fair amount. Some things are moved around, a couple of things are set down, then... Braelnoir comes down the stairs with weighty hooffalls in (most) of her full kit for the first time in weeks, one hand is occupied with getting her hair under control while the fingertips of the other slide along the wall of the stairwell in a ghost of stability. As she spies the crowd, she gives a, "Heyo!" followed quickly by a, "Trouble ya fer an ale, a shot o'vodka and a steak, fairly bloody, and some proper utensiles, luv?" A quick glance down her front to make sure she remembered her vaguely irritating sign and she strides accross the floor proper toward a table.
Aya had, at some point, finished her meal. Not all of what was presented, but all that she wishes to consume of it. The noises above briefly make her wonder where the other server moved off to, though the mystery of them may be rather solved as Braelnoir makes her way down the stairs. Aya idly observes the descent whilst nursing her post-meal glass.
With her own conversations going quiet, Elly turns her attention to the Mul'niessa. After a moment, she excuses herself from her seat, her own meal quite finished at this point, and brings her wine along. She stops near Aya and bows her head, "I'm Elleandra, or Elly if you prefer. Mind if I sit with you?"
"Sure thing!" Cryo is moving to get the drink order as the bartender prepares it, then brings them over to Braelnoir and slides them on the table. She makes a finger-wiggling gesture at the silvery chimera, then saunters for the kitchen to scare up a steak. AND utensils. A cause for celebration, the boards will not be necessary tonight.
With the cook on the job the sith-makar is back out front, hanging around and looking around. Some plates need clearing, she picks up Elleandra's, puts them on a tray and conveys them into the back.
Aya arches a brow at the arriving and introduced Elleandra, then gestures at hand at the bar and seats at it in her vicinity. "Not at all. To what do I owe the visit?"
Braelnoir nods to the two elves in passing as she settles in, then gives the fella a quick once over before taking up her vodka an swishing it around a little before it's sent the rest of the way. The chimera occupies herself afterward with doing... kind of idle twiddling, or finger lacing or whatever passes through her mind, though she seems quite invested in the activity for some reason.
Deanna smiles a bit as she finishes her wine. "I apologize. I'm a bit too distracted here. I shall you soon, ma'am." She says as she heads out.
"My friends have fallen suddenly introspective, and I was hoping you might care to talk," explains Elleandra to Aya. "I also know relatively little of your people, and I have always tried to cure my ignorance in what ways I can. Have you lived long in the city?" She settles herself into a seat and raises her wine once more, taking in the scent and savoring it before drinking once more. "Good drink becomes great with company, too," she adds.
Elly's eyes drift to Braelnoir and she smiles, nodding politely in return. She notices the finger twiddling and smiles more warmly. It's a habit of her's, as well, though she tries not to indulge in it right now.
The palescale sith returns, looking around. She's moving freely with a relaxed grace to her body. She glances over at Elleandra and Aya and the happy sway of her tail slows. She sinks a little standing there, a subtle hunch. Her head turns, over to where Braelnoir is in her favourite spot, and some of her energy returns. She closes her eyes, inhales, then strides over to the pair. She stops nearby, respecting their conversational space with a wide margin and smiles at Aya, "Are you finished with that? I can take them."
She gestures at the mul'neissa's plates.
GAME: Garrett rolls disguise: (9)+7: 16 GAME: Elleandra rolls perception: (1)+4: 5 (EPIC FAIL) GAME: Garrett rolls sleight of hand: (9)+8: 17 GAME: Garrett gives Cryosanthia 1 p.
"Ah," is Aya's initial response to Elleandra. As she considers further, Cryosanthia arrives and she nods to the Sith. "Please." Turning back to Elleandra, she answers, "Yes, I have been in the area for some time."
The torchlight is flickering beautiful rings and assorted shapes in the surface of the wine.
Elly has a few defining trails. Curiosity is one of them. With her attention so seriously directed at Aya's response, she is momentarily blind to much of anything else. "Where did you live before you came here? And what inspired you to leave and live here?" she asks. She is eager for a full story, clearly, and her eyes make it hard to miss that she just loves understanding people.
A human male walks in, a big thick beard, bushy eyebrows and a wart on his nose. He looks around at the various people. He makes his way to Cryosanthia and bumps into cryosanthia. "My apologies." He says with a grin. "May I join you ladies?" He asks aya and elleandra. IT was secretly garrett
"Okay." Cryo internally debates the best way to get the plates. Reaching around behind the mul'neissa interrupts the conversation less, but is mildly threatening, between the two is easiest, around behind Elleandra would be preferred, but she'd have to lean a lot.
The bartender rolls his eyes at her, and slides the plates along the bar so they're easily reached from behind Elleandra. Cryo gratefully takes those and rushes off to the kitchen with them. She doesn't reappear for a few minutes. When she does, it's with the bloody steak that Braelnoir ordered, and the meal is delivered to the silvery chimera's table. At first, it seems she's forgotten the utensils, but then she slaps them down triumphantly for Braelnoir and grins.
Aya considers offering the platters after noting Cryosanthia's pause and possible consternation, though the 'tender resolves the issue readily enough. Thus, she turns her attention to the bearded human. She seems to be somewhat popular this evening. Such is not always a boon, and she arches a brow at the one grinning. "Perhaps?"
Braelnoir is so infatuated with the idle games she's playing with her fingers that she misses the arrival of the man of mystery and his joining of the two elfmaids, and actually starts slightly as her delightfully juicy steak is plunked down before her. She blinks, momentarily wide eyed up at the sith, seems to notice her tool request went unheeded. Before she can remark to the effect, Cryosanthia slaps them down and the chimera smirks at her, "Thanks, luv." Now, let's see if muscle memory is worth a damn after so long...
Elleandra looks at the man coming up and immediately the light of recognition lights her eyes. She slams a (fortunately empty) glass down on the bar and extends her hand at him with an accusatory finger. "You!" she says in a raised, clear voice that brings something of a hush to the pub. "I know you!" Which is true. Just not in the way she thinks. "I saw you a week ago, trying to intrude in my bathing outside the city!" She looks indignant as she goes on, "That nose.. there can't be two like that."
The white-scale sith is clearly happy as she watches the silvery chimera pick up the utensils. She is bopping up and down as she stands there, and her tail washes back and forth behind her. Her eyes are glittering in the tavern lamplight, and she has her hands clasped and held against her apron. She watches.
The sudden outburst drags her attention around. Cryo looks over to see what the cause is, a man she doesn't recognize. She's terrible at seeing through Garrett's disguises. She hesitates, unsure whether she should intervene.
For a moment, Elly bristles with indignation at the supposed peeper. "I.. am not going to stay near you, you.. you..." She drifts into some ornate mix of inappropriate words, at least a couple of which are from Yrch-speech. She almost slaps him, but instead turns back to Aya and bows her head politely, "I must be going, I'm afraid. Watch this one.. he's demented." And with a last wave to Cryosanthia and Braelnoir, she departs in a huff.
With an upbeat hum and an almost joyous kip in his step Aodhan slides into the front room nearly missing another patron as he gracefully stumbles away in a half dance with some music that no doubt is within his mind. Granting smiles about he makes his way to the bar and beings to hail for the keep for something a little stronger than ale.
Braelnoir almost fumbles her knife at the report of the glass slamming into the table. She -does- drop the fork. With some consternation, the Chimera glares momentarily over at the other table, shakes her head then leans over to pick the form up off the floor, wiping it on her pantleg. Ok, let's stry this again, "Wonder what that's all about...." she murmurs, then starts to cut into her steak to some evident delight.
The bartender slides something towards Aodhan. A whisky.
The palescale sith watches as Elleandra leaves, and makes a note to remember the man that upset her. She is watching the door when Aodhan enters, and startles slightly because Braelnoir drops her fork. She checks back on the chimera, then addresses the newly arrived Wild Elf.
"Hello, Welcome to the Fernwood Pub. I'm Cryosanthia, Cryo if you prefer. We have Wing Things as a special, and some vegetables if that's more to your taste. Sit any where you like."
The Fernwood's half-elf server makes a re-appearance, having been 'on break' for several hours at this point. She gives the sith-makar a look, flips her hair, and smiles at Aodhan, "I'll take over for her. Hello."
"I suppose that would be 'no,'" Aya amends her answer to the question of the man joining them. Ellenadra's claim might explain the overabundance of grinning, however. In answer to Braelnoir, she rolls a shoulder. "Mistaken identity or uninvited watching."
Looking down at the whiskey Aodhan then looks to the server. "Well now, this will certainly set me straight." His voice is a bit mischievous as he tilts his head back with a short laugh, then in one fluid motion takes the entire drink as one shot. He coughs lightly for a moment granting a wink. "Quite good, ill take the wings. And perhaps a larger drink with a fair bit more fruit perhaps. I like my alcohol but more sweet than not."
Aodhan produces a wood hollow reed from a protective case that is tied to his belt.
Braelnoir glances over to the Mul'iessa and nods, "Explains that. Some folk get t'feelin a certain kinda way about such things." That said, she smiles up at Cryo, then happily goes back to properly dismantling her steak with tool use and opposable thumbs. She idly observes the new fellow make his ease in the bar and nods with some approval, then... steaaaaaak.
Aya slips out when no one is watching.
"Allright then," The half-elf server purrs, giving Aodhan a wink and trailing her finger along the edge of his wiskey glass. She tells the bartender, "Something stronger for the nice man, with fruit, and sharks."
She pushes herself up on the bar, leaning across so she can call through the window to the kitchen. Her legs are straight, she's on her toes, and there's a bit of wiggle as she does it. "Oh Chef... A Wing Things please."
Cryosanthia, meanwhile looks around. She makes a clicking noise with her mouth, opening it, "Uh... well. I've been on a while. Have a good rest of the night Braelnoir, I'm heading back to Mictlan." That's also her annoucement to the staff. She heads to the back, taking off her apron and slipping out of sight.
Dramatis Personae
Zant
The frame of this relatively young man standing at six feet of height with darker, like naturally-tanned skin is set by broad, strong shoulders and the equally-strong muscularity that can be made out against the fabric of his simple, off-white shirt and dark-brown pants -- the former being relatively tight around his torso while the sleeves that extend just halfway along his thick biceps are much looser, amd the latter are much looser to allow for as much freedom as movement, while being just tight enough that the fabric doesn't get tangled anywhere.
His face is surprisingly youthful, though largely by way of how expressive it is - particularly with the wide, all-too-bright smiles that he commonly flashes out, almost as warm and glowing as the sun itself - but still carries plenty blunt edges and angles along his jaw, chin and cheekbones to maintain a strong note of masculinity. While his face itself is clean-shaven, his black hair has been allowed to grow slightly longer -- not enough to reach his shoulders, but enough to occasionally cover up his ears and leaving him it with a bit of a wild look, all thick and mussed up and usually moving along completely of it's own volition. None of that seems to bother him much, though, even if one had to judge from the bright glint in his green eyes alone, full of spirit and joy of life and carrying just as much warmth as his smiles-- and the rest of him for that matter, his warmer-toned skin seeming to almost shine at times in certain angles against the light.
The seeming illusion of warm glowth is almost further complemented by the two - yes, two, one of golden fabric and the other of pure white - scarves he wears draped along his neck, with one end on each tied there just tight enough to keep them from flying away, but the other ends and a good portion of their length left loose along his shoulders and back, often flowing behind him with the wind or his own quick, graceful motions.
While his muscle-toned arms have been left mostly bare by the short sleeves, his palms, knuckles, wrists and a portion of his forearms have lengths of cloth wrapped along them, like bandages.
Cryosanthia
Cryosanthia is a tall, lithe lizardgirl with flamboyant mannerisms and a flashy style. Her scales are a bright, snow white, complimented by her frills and keratin-scale 'hair' which are the pale blue found in glacial ice. This gleaming tapestry is marred by dark tattoos gouged in her hide, green-black in colouration, which at times have a dark glow. Her snout is long and tapers elegantly. Her legs and tail are likewise graceful, despite being a significant portion of her size and mass. She seems light on her talons and energetic, head glancing quick from side to side. Her eyes are bright and like her frills, the palest of blues with a dramatic slit pupil.
Cryosanthia's clothes are a simple kit of kilted leather armour in white. It is close fitting enough to seem a part of her, but it lacks the lustre of her scales having instead a dull finish. She has sandals that leave her talons free, as well as a hat that is hanging to the back as often as it is on her head. A long blue feather is tucked into the woven band. Finally, she wears a cloak, likewise fashioned from white leather but with a satin interior that matches her eyes. It gleams when the light catches it right. Belted to her hip she has a rapier, a couple of pouches, and a tiny bag on a thong around her long neck.
Deanna
Standing at 5'2" tall, this woman has light brown hair, with a few blonde locks near the surface. Her hair is long and goes down to her waist fairly easily, when it's let free. She has green eyes and an angular face. Her pointed ears are typically adorned with earrings of some sort.
She's slender, but with definite feminine curves upon her. She wears an artisan's blouse upon her with long sleeves. She also has a pair of long pants on that go into a pair of black boots that have a one inch heel upon them. The pants have a belt with a buckle on them that match some of the symbols upon the boots.
Aodhan
Aodhan is a seemingly youthful Sildanyari. Standing around five feet tall, he exudes an unusual amount of flexibility. In his small frame, striations in his muscular structure can be seen clearly in the exposed flesh of his shoulders and neck. His face is ovular, with a small pointed nose and severe thin lips which curve slightly downward. A masculine squared chin and jawline makes his overall facial features more severe. His eyes are a light color of blue, nearing white, which is in contrast with an almost astral color of red his hair shares hues with fire, making it seem somewhat otherworldly. Hidden mostly by his thick mostly unruly hair are his pointed ears.
On his upper body, a dark cherry marbled leather cuirass secures with almost black ironwood buckles over a very well made a sturdy short light green tunic. Around his waist is a thick brown belt which holds a matching large solid leather pouch rests to his right side. Over his shoulders is a thick brown cloak made with a very fine weave, a thin intricate silver clasp keeps it secure and closed around his neck and shoulder.
His trousers are well fitting if not a tad loose in the legs, the same fine weave in his cloak and tunic is seen in the trousers. One leg is light green, and the other is a light tan. On his feet are a pair of dark red and black striped calf high boots. The leather make of the boot is unidentifiable though it could be mistaken as snake skin.
Braelnoir
Another day in the big city.
A curious figure, this, possessed of facial features fitting an Acanian woman of perhaps twenty years with fine, even features and stern eyebrows over wolflike amber eyes. Raven hair, knife shorn to a toussled shag, fluffs out from her scalp to drape down and obscure most of her shoulderblades. Her torso largely carries to a human shape, with slightly broader shoulders, suggesting perhaps an additional Aesir heritage, though her arms are more muscular, and her legs crook into a hooved deerlike format a little past her calves. From the base of her spine, a long, slender tail extends four and a half feet before capping with a spaded tip. A multitude of miniscule silver scales turns her skin into a somewhat clouded mirror. Her voice is a smokey tennor, accented to the particulars of Stormgarde. The only 'jewelry' upon her person is a copper earring in her left ear, from which dangles a small brass skeleton, and an ornate gold ring around one of the digits of her left hand.
In light of recent regrettable developments, hanging from her neck by a leather thong is a small placcard with the words, 'I am not a monster' over the stamp of the City Watch.
A fine, nearly black, breastplate, tempered to an almost iridescent blue violet, is cross strapped at her back over a newer, boiled black leather corselet that leaves her left shoulder bare. A finely scaled capelet of burnished steel protects her right shoulder, some of the scales tempered to a straw color and arrayed to form a curious symbol. Her legs are clad in loose trousers of what could have been sailcloth, dyed black in a way that left various whorls and ripples of smoke grey. Overknee greaves of black leather are strapped around her altered legs. Her right hand is clad nearly to the elbow in a blued, spike-laden gauntlet, while the left is protected by a half-fingered leather affair with an hourglassed demi gauntlet over that, stamped with the symbol of Kor.
Her other accoutrements are manifold and equally diverse. A Khazadi bandolier containing Gods-know-what crosses her torso right-to-left to leave the pouches lining the inward curve of her waist without impeding her sword arm. An Aesir warhammer rides double frogs on her right hip, while a short sword rests in a sheath on her left. For all this, grimly ornate war scythe she carries is easily the weapon that's seen the most wear and care.