LATHIRON
The Bald Eagle Inn
A few blocks to the west of the Southern Gate, nestled at the corner of two main roads filled with shops of all sorts, there stood a two-story white building. The front of the building was bare but for the ivory mortar that adhered the stones and the wooden sign that hung above the plain, white-washed door. In a flowery, scarlet script, the rectangular sign read: The Bald Eagle Inn. To the right of the building’s main body there was a white stone archway that lead into a cobbled alleyway. This alleyway came out on the other side of the building where there was a barn for the patrons’ horses and wagons, and, beyond, there were gardens.
Upon entering the front door, patrons saw that the first floor was the tavern and common room. There were couches, cushioned chairs, and a rocking chair around the hearth at the far side of the room, the cold stone floor of that area covered with lush, green carpets. Although the room was for the most part undecorated, there was a framed painting above the wide mouth of the hearth. The image was of a Golden Dragon, shimmering wings spread impressively as the creature clung to the uppermost tower of the temple of Armön’hen with one clawed hand, its powerful golden tail wrapped around the holy structure. The bar, which was immediately to the right, was of a dark polished wood, and clean. A fair-haired and light-eyed inn keeper in his early fifties stood behind the bar, and kept an eye on his tavern. It was not a rich place, but it was a fair and respectable place, and Blake watched over it like a hawk.
Between the bar and the hearth-common, there were a collection of heavy wooden tables and a scattering of chairs. In the center of the left wall, there was a semi-circular stage for musicians to play when there was one willing. Tonight, the Bald Eagle Inn was quiet. Most of the patrons were out in the streets, attending the Queen’s Funeral. The ones who were present were quiet and withdrawn, most likely travelers from outside of the city who had checked in to the rooms located up the mahogany spiral staircase to the right of the bar. The Inn Keeper’s wife stood on the fifth step now, hand rested on the railing and eyes watching the fire in the hearth across the room.
Lúthien was leaning back in a cushioned chair, half asleep. Rummors had brought her to this city and the inn she was staying at. Like others she was sure of, she was in search of the eye of the dragon. Having arived at the inn late last night, she left her weapons and traveling cloak up in her room.
Magdeleine's soft blue eyes swept across the near-silent room and noted the girl who seemed to be drifting off in the cushioned chair by the fire. Unconsciuosly, the inn keeper's wife smiled. Walking those five steps down the stairway and padding quietly over the carpets to where the girl dozed, she reached out a hand and touched the girl's shoulder gently.
Speaking, as to not startle the girl, the silver-haired womans murmured, "It is getting late, child. Perhaps it would be safest if you were to fall asleep in your room, not in a public common room so near the fire." The old woman had circled the chair in which Luthien sat and was now sitting in the cushionned chair across from her. She had a crooked smile on her friendly face.
Lúthien looked up at Magdeleine. "Huh? Oh, sorry. It has been a long day. Though I don't understand why there are so many people in the city today." She said sitting up and rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
The old woman leaned back in the chair, folding her hands on her lap and watching the girl, shaking her head not-unkindly. "You have not heard the news, child?" An emotional heaviness seemed to weigh on her brittle old shoulders as they sagged with her sigh. "The dear sweet lady, Queen Aria, died in childbirth last month. This evening, at the Eastern Gate, is her funeral. It shall be finished when the sun sets." She waved a long-fingered hand at the eastern windows and the crimson sun that was setting over the buildings beyond.
Magdeleine leaned forward some, silver-haired head tilted slightly. "You had not heard..? All of Eisyden is talking about it, dear child. Where are you from?"
Lúthien looked down as a kid would when he got in trouble. "I am from Sylvànēn, but I have been traveling around for the past few years." She answered very softly.
The woman nodded slowly. She had met people from all over Nyan, but only one or two had ever admitted to having been from Sylvanen. As far as she could tell, they were a very defensive keep-to-themse
lves sort of people. Magdaleine wondered why Luthien would have left the safety of the Elven Home at such a young age. Smiling kindly, she prompted. "From what little I've heard, it's lovely there. May I int-"
The old woman's words were cut off before she could finish asking Luthien if she would be interested in having a cup of tea before the evening crowds started ariving. It would seem that the evening crowd got there first. The main door had opened in a flurry of mumbled curses and ivory robes. Apparently the willowy figure was having some difficulty fitting his long white staff through the doorframe.
Lúthien jumpped at the noise and looked at the door where a person was trying to get through. "Where I was raised is was very pretty but I like the confort of being around other people." She said while watching the figure.
Magdeleine smirked in amusement as she watched the ivory-clad figure make his clumsy way through the doorway, amazed that he managed to trip on his robes even after fitting his white-wooden staff through the door. Somewhat distracted as well, she responded to Luthien's comment. "Other people..? There are not many elves there?" She turned her pale eyes back on Luthien. "You are elven, yes?"
After having righted himself, the man straightened his back and held his head high. One gnarled old hand straightened his floor-length ivory robes, and the other clutched the staff on which he leaned heavily. His hair was thin and white, but long enough to be held back by a simple black ribon. He had a short beard that appeared not to have been groomed in a few days yet, despite his clumsy entrance, there was a simple dignity about the way he held himself. Smiling, he hobbled towards the bar and the innkeeper who stood behind it. "Blake!" He exclaimed cheerfully. "Three rooms, if you would be so kind."
Lúthien nodded her head at Magdeleine. "Yes I am, but unlike my brothers and sisters I like the company of other races." She said softly watching the old man at the bar.
Sylvien ducked her head as she made her way into the tavern behind the old Druid. The rest of their journey had been fairly uneventful, and thankfuly, he had agreed not to speak of her and her sister's heritage. Thankfully, Loron had healed fully and it had been a joyous reunion when she had awoken. Now they were in the city of Lathiron, and hopefully closer to their goal. She eyed the Druid wearily hoping that one of those rooms was meant for her. She was still a little wary of the amount of humanoids here in the city.
Mediave had remained silent and still through the events of the past moment in the lounge area. He stood next to the fire and eyed the large painting of the golden dragon inquisitively. He ran a plethora of questions unanswered through his mind. Despite his look, and more notably what he truly was, thankfully hidden, he'd never seen a real dragon, at least not one in it's true state.
As more and more entered the Inn, he gave only a single glance towards the door, almost uncharacteristically expecting something, but it passed swiftly and his gaze returned to the painting. Thoughts flowed, fluidly, and as the tide in his mind shifted, something stormy filled the veil behind his eyes, and they burned a bloody, flaming, red. Within the pockets of his large coat his fists clenched tightly, the fire in his eyes fading as he pulled himself within control again. He felt as if something, perhaps not so far from them was about to happen that wouldn't sit well with him.
Lúthien watched the inn fill up with people. Though out of all the people coming and going one person caught her eye quickly. The man looking at the picture. Trying not to be rude Lúthien watched him out of great curiosity. She was completely different from her fellow Moon Elves. She tilted her head as to keep the fire from burning her eyes. I wonder who this interesting person is she thought to herself.
Loren looked around with bright eyes, it had been so long since she last visited a city. She still had slight dark areas under her eyes showing her fatigue but her eyes themselves seemed full of life and energy. She reveled in the sights and smells of the area but seemed very light of foot since everyone that walked near her made her a little paranoid. She was excited but still cautious. She followed her sister quite easily only a step behind and kept a foot on the ground to watch their backs so to speak. But her eyes never lost their excitement.
Erothenos, having heard that a being of exceptional power had been in attendence at the funeral, traveled to the tavern that he had learned the Druid would be staying. Unfamiliar with that particular desgination among humans, Eros was weary of direct confrontation and introduction before first watching the man to observe his qualities and social inclinations. Only problem as Eros always had it was, he couldn't go anywhere without being noticed. His long large storm grey wings accented by his outlandish clothes designed around them, put him ever at the disadvantage to any sort of endevour involving the incognizance of those surrounding him. He had but one trick up his sleeve, or more accureatly over it. It would only last a mere stretch of time but long enough, or so Eros hoped, to insinuate himself into the tavern crowd and back out again before anyone noticed his presence or true nature. Out of his pack, he pulled out a well folded and compressed set of rags he had bartered for in a city long since passed. Having flown to the closest outcropping of tree's he landed in a suitable one, first locating a relatively short rotting branch and tearing it from the trunk. He then removed his white sleeveless tunic, and pants, and replaced them with his mud colored set of rags, brown and common. The key part being his wings, he could compress them against his body, but rarely could any set of clothes possibly mask a large lump on his back. However, after obseriving the humans on the streets for a time, he realized, that some would misconcieve his lumps for another sort. Furling the mass of his wings to the top of his sholders, and leaning over, Eros was capable of achieving a stunning resemblence to an old hunchback. Careful that the rags covered his youthful hands, and always having the cowl of the rag down low as to mask his face, he left his pack tucked in tight against the trunk, and it's straps tied around the branch it was sitting upon, his sword buckled to the branch, and his Bow attached to the closed quiver of arrows, also slung on to the branch. High up, and concealed by the branches and leaves, Eros beleived his scant supplies and belongings to be safe for the few moments he planned to leave them behind. He quickly climbed down from the tree, restraightening his disguise, and then moved back out of the small section, and back into the city down the streets in the direction of the tavern. Careful to go slow, and hobble, cursing himself for resigning to this prudent, but slow course of action. Having found his way back to the tavern, he entered hobbling and leaning upon his make shift stave, finding his way to a table near the druid so as to over-hear as much as possible, but without being to close to be to noticeable. Having taken care to bring a few small coins with him to have a reason to be seated, he hoped he could pull this off for long enough as to gain some information about the druid. Better to know him, so as to figure how to approach the man about the information and power he holds.
In all her excitement and looking around, Loren had admired the painting of the gold dragon and had stared at it to pick up every last detail making mental notes where things were wrong or should have more detail. She looked at all the different people and how they smelt and looked were all different then the humans she had contacted centuries ago. She noticed one...man...yes man that was sitting looked different then the rest of the people. He was hunched over...or had a weird growth on his back, and was clothed by ragged clothes. She stared at him a moment think something was weird about him then remembered seeing some like him in the past. He was just old if she was correct, and she continued searching out the room and trying to remember every last detail. Still keeping close to her sister and the druid.
The door swung in with the practised ease of someone who wants noone to see him and wants noone to remember his name. Caneos took two steps inside and almost tripped over his own robes. He stared directly at lecterus Synn A stroke of luck? he thought. He looked round and slowly made his way over to the bar, wrapping his knuckles on the counter sharply to try and get some attention. He made sure to keep Lecterus Synn in his view at all times, making sure he didn't make a move without Canoes seeing.
The Inn Keeper frowned at the clumsy man who had approached him, making such a ruckus. The ivory-robed old man must realize that it grew late, and that the city was in mourning. Running a long-fingered hand through his thinning blond hair, Blake fixed the other man with a stare that reminded most people forcibly of a hawk. Pale eyes flashed… and then recognition dawned.
"Master Lerectius!" he exclaimed delightedly, all annoyance forgotten, his face creasing in a smile as he reached out to shake the old man's hand. "It has been so long since last you visited, old friend. Welcome to the Eagle." Reaching under the countertop, Blake produced three small golden keys, each with a room number engraved. "Our best rooms, sir. Number four," he waved the third key before setting them all on the table-top, "was your old favourite. That'll be two silvers and six coppers for the lot."
Lerectius beamed at the Inn Keeper, returning the handshake. "The one with the lovely balcony over the garden?" He enquired, fondly reminiscent. The old Druid had known Blake since he was the doe-eyed and mischievous son of the Eagle's previous owner, Doric, and had shared many an evening with the boy, regaling tales of ages long past. Digging into his robes, Lerectius produced three silvers and placed them in Blake's palm before carefully gathering up the keys.
It was then that Magdeleine too recognized the Druid and, excusing herself politely from the conversation she had been holding with Luthien, rose to her feet and crossed the room to stand at her husband's side. Slipping an arm through Blake's, the old woman smile welcomingly at Lerectius. "Welcome, Master Druid," she spoke in the quiet but commanding voice that charactarized the Inn Keeper's wife.
A young, slender, and sandy-haired woman took note of Cane. She wore a simple but well cared for wollen dress and a white apron that marked her as one of the barmaids, and offered him a polite smile. "Good evening, sir. How may I help you?"
Caneos focused his blazing blue eyes on her, scanning her up and down in a flash. "Yes" he said, it wasn't quite a whisper because that usually got attention but it was just quiet enough to be a buzzing in people's ears "I would like a room here, I do not know how long I shall stay."
The girl flushes beneath his scrutiny, recoiling from the intensity of his gaze. Realizing that her reflexive start might be taken as rude, she flushed more deeply, gathered her skirts and dipped into a small curtsy. "Our smaller rooms are six copper a night, the larger ones a silver. You could start by paying one night, sir..." She let her voice trail off.
Caneos reached into his robe slowly, fumbling about within it. When he saw the bar maid flinch he flashed her a dazzling smile, trying to comfort her slightly. He pulled out a bag that was bulging with coins, he fumbled about inside it and placed a silver coin down on the bar but not before her eyes caught a glimpse of even more silver and perhaps some gold. It was rather lucky that he had payed a visit to all those street vendors today, they had moved outside the city to get away from the mourners and were much easier to trick outside they're natural habitat. "Will that be enough for a reasonable room?" he said, his eyes never seemed to waver off the bar maid.
The amount of gold in his possession was not particularly startling to the girl, and his smile quelled her uneasiness. The Eagle was a respectable inn, and it was not unheard of for them to entertain wealthy patrons. Reaching out, the young woman collected the silver and produced a golden key similar to the ones that Blake had given Lerectius. "All of our rooms are reasonable, sir." She assured him, with an automatic but not un-pretty smile. "I'll just ask you to record your name here," she produced a black, leather-bound book, a quill, and ink. Pointing to the blank space beside the letter 11, she placed the quill on the table in front of him. "Your room is number 11." she supplied.
Caneos saw no reason to fake his name so he scrawled it down under the number eleven. He flashed a second winning smile at her, taking the key with such a sudden but gentle movement that he was afraid for a second that she may realise he was part sprite. Dismissing this thought straight away he scanned the room, taking in Lerectius Synn twice "What are the rates for the ale and food here?" he said as he looked around.
Amazed by how quickly the key had gone from being in her hand to being in his, the fair-haired girl watched him, noting how his attention appeared to be returning to the Druid repeatedly. Despite the curiousity in her green eyes, she knew better than to ask some questions, so hid her amazement and simply removed the book from the table and putting it away. "Water's one copper, the watered wine is two. For the good wine we ask five coppers, and three for our black ale. The pale ale is only two coppers per. The whisky if four coppers, but very good." As she spoke, she had begun whiping the counter-top absently with a damp cloth. Finishing her list, she glanced up at Caneos again, then let her eyes flicker over to Lerectius. "You know him?" she enquired before she could bite her tongue.
Caneos let out a small laugh, he didn't even seem bothered that she had asked "No, we have never met formally but he is famous among the druid people." He brought out five coppers "A water for me, and would you send over a whisky to him?" he layed them gently on the table. His gaze flickered to Lerectuis again, maybe he could play this to his favour.
Nodding, the barmaid scooped up the coppers, murmured a polite "Yessir" and slipped away to fetch the drinks.
Caneos nodded too her, walking away slowly to a table a little way away from the bar. Once he sat down he finnaly seemed to be regerising the other patron of the Bald Eagle Inn. His eye flicked around the bar room, taking in every person, every tiny difference, every miniscule unique aspect. His eyes shuddered to a halt on Sylvien more than once, a frown creasing his brow as they did. He was puzzled by her appearence, as if he thought there was something more to her but wasn't sure what.
The inn door swung on its hinges, opening the room to the crimson light of the setting sun that stained the white-washed surface of the door and framed the figure that stood in the doorway. Though her body was shrouded by the heavy traveling cloak, the newcomer was clearly a woman. Long raven-black waves had been pulled back at the nape of her neck and secured with a scarlet ribbon, though stray strands had escaped their bonds, falling in to frame the pallor of her face. There was something about the quirk of her lips and the arch of her fine black eyebrows that made her seem mischievous, even dangerous, though there was a weary tension currently writ on her features. Perhaps it was the backlighting of the sunset that made it seem so, but her eyes appeared to be a startling shade of red.
His attention stirred at once from the painting, finally. Mediave's eyes carrying their gaze towards the latest entrant. He departed then from the fire place and painting, stepping silently over towards Eloren's front, a slight bow of his head to greet her. His hands shifted ever so slightly in his pockets while he lifted his head to her face, almost questioningly. "The day is late, and you've been gone a time. I should inquire where you'd been these hours..." He paused for a moment, seeming to contemplate where he was going with his words. "Your safety is all that matters. Did you witness the parade?"
The woman lifted her eyes to Mediave as he approached, recognizing him as one of her newer companions before inclining her head politely in return. Without answering his questions immediately, she shut the door behind herself and went to pull off her cloak... but her gloved fingertipers paused at the tie and thought better of it. Instead, she dropped her hand and returned her attention to Mediave. "No, I did not witness the funeral pire, though I do know where our Darkling," she meant Vampiric Princeling, but wasn't about to say it in so public a place, "has slipped off to." She frowned then, an expression that made her appear even more guarded. "My safety is no concern of yours, sir" she informed him with a subtle edge to her voice and an emphasis on the formality.
When the fair-haired barmaid returned through the door from the kitchen, Blake was still speaking animatedly with Lerectius Synn. The Inn Keeper had confirmed that room four was indeed the room with the balcony over the Eagle's lovely garden courtyard, and had gotten the Druid to sign the same book that Caneos had signed moments before. Thanking the couple warmly for their hospitality, exchanging handshakes and smiles, the Druid was preparing to return to his companions when something seemed to occur to him and he turned back.
"Could either of you tell me where I might be able to find the Mistress Valhalla? Or the Lady Mirallestis Raven." His words were light still, but there seemed a gravity to the way he asked his question that made both the Inn Keeper and his wife consider it as best they could. It was then that the young barmaid appeared at Lerectius' side. The Druid turned questioning golden eyes on her, offering a fartherly smile.
"Yes, Child?"
"The man at the table there," the girl gestured to Caneos with her free hand, "paid to have you brought a whisky. Some of our best, you know." She placed the mug of whisky on the countertop in front of the Druid, sketched him a cursty, and moved towards Caneos' table to deliver the water.
A wide grin spread across Lerectius' sun-weathered face. "Good man," he chuckled appreciatively, marking the man the girl had gestured to and deciding that he would have to thank him once the Inn Keeper had responded to his enquiry. The Druid recognized him vaguely, and searched his memory for a name and story to go along with the face and the kind gesture. He swallowed a thoughtful mouthful of whisky, then lifted the glass to Blake. "The best," he winked.
Caneos nodde to the barmaid and grinned at her when she put down his drink. He carefully took out a gold coin and placed it in her palm, being sure that noone else saw "Thank you my dear, you may have done me a great favour" he said to her lightly. Caneos smiled, Lerectius would remember him now and he got a good start.
The young woman beamed at Caneos, slipping the coin into her pocket (as imperceptibly as he had set in on the table) and dipping into a deep curtsy. "Thank you, sir! You're very generous. If there's anything else you'd be needing, you've but to ask." She curtsied again.
Blake stroked his jaw, his pale eyes travelling around his tavern idly as he thought. "The Baroness Raven be staying in the palace, Master Lerectius.. Word has it that she's a royal guest, but it's common knowledge that she's a political prisoner. Her cousin sent her fer something, I imagine, but it wouldn't be wise fer me to spread my speculations too far, you understand." He paused, still rubbing his jaw. "As for the Mistress Valhalla.. Well, no one ever knows just what she's up to, when she'll show up and where.." There seemed a slight fondness in his wry grin, then he leaned forward and dropped his voice, "But I know that she has a reservation at the Crow's best for the next two nights."
Caneos flashed a smile at her, you should be careful what you say to a sprite. Knocking away his sprite heritage for a second he looked around at Lerectius and met Blake's eyes for a breif second. If anyone had seen the difference between the smiles he'd been flashing the barmaid and the fierce glare which he scanned the room they would would have been very confused to say the least. His eyes burrowed into Blake's, as if he was invading his soul, running around his memories and trying to pull pieces of it away.
When Blake's eyes suddenly stopped roving the tavern to fix on Caneos, Lerectius' eyes thinned subtly. When Blake's eyes widened, Lerectius cast a casual glance towards the man who still appeared to be talking to the barmaid. "Thank you, Blake," the Druid said quietly, placing a silver in Magdaleine's hand and giving it a reasuring squeeze. She too had sensed the unease in her husband, since he had tensed against her. Blake was not a weak man, but he did not weild any magic, and he was growing old.
The simple golden embroidey on the billowing sleaves of his robes caught the light as Lerectius Synn stepped across the room to Caneos' table, placing himself between the half-sprite and the Inn Keeper. "That's enough," he said quietly and politely, then dismissed the barmaid with an inclination of his head. The Druid's amber eyes watched Caneos intently, and it was impossible to say what conclusions might have been drawn. The man was at least part Lievhã, and had clearly had no formal training at the hands of the Druids. Or perhaps, the Druid added to himself as an afterthought, he may simply be the young rebellious sort. In any case, he gave a mental shrug and spoke in a friendly manner. "May I join you? I believe I owe you thanks for a mug of Lathiron's best whisky."
Caneos dragged out a chair beside him and smiled gently at Lerectius "No thanks are necessary... I beleive I may have to appologise. I appear to have startled the inn keeper who is a freind of yours by the looks of it." Caneos straightened slightly, remembering who he was talking to "I seem to unnerve people" he said as he fixed his shimmering blue eyes directly on Synn's amber ones.
"I knew him when he was a boy," The silver-haired Lievhã supplied as he took the offered seat, "and I've made it a habit to stay at the Eagle when I am on business from the Fellowship." Lerectius felt no need to explain the Brotherhood, nor to meet the other man's eye, certain that the blue-eyed man already knew enough to understand. His voice wasn't chiding when spoke, quietly so no one would overhear. In fact, he appeared rather amused and his wrinkled face creased into a smile. "It is not general courtesy to seak to explore another man's mind without permission," he added, lifting his bushy white eyebrows, "Or at all, in fact." He took another appreciative swig of his whisky.
"Ah... so is that what I was doing?" Caneos said, frowning gently and steepling his fingers infront of his face. "I never had much teaching in the ways of the Lievhã beyond books and they never touched upon the subject of this.." he rolled some words around on his tongue, searching for something that worked "Soul searching." He seemed fascinated that he was doing this more than scared that he didn't know how to do it.
"Yes," Lerectius responded, "that is what you were doing. Though," he set down his mug carefully, then lifted his eyes to meet Caneos'. Suddenly, they were no longer mild and amber, becoming warm, dangerous pools of golden light, though he still wore that fatherly expression. "There are easier ways to eavesdrop. What business do you have with the Lady Valhalla?" Holding his staff loosely in his right hand, Lerectius rested his other arm on the tabletop, musing. He could tell that Caneos had much potential, and could now remember seeing Caneos in the libraries of Daelorèdēn, always up to his nose in books about the Magic Words. Lerectius recognized that this man could become dangerous, should he be allowed to go his own way. Perhaps instruction was in order. Calloused fingertips stroked the smooth wood of his staff thoughtfully. He would see how this played out.
Erothenos sat and listened as intently as he could. Watching every altercation he could betwixt the druid and any others. It was obvious to all that he had a relationship to the inn keeper, to what variety Eros could only guess. However, he did catch the description of a balcony, the druid seemed to be requesting or remenissing over with the inn keeper. The druid appeared to be light hearted and good natured. Eros couldn't miss the way, one man seemed to be watching as intently as he was at the Druid. Little subetly was used to pursue the druid by this, strange man. Eros couldn't put his fingers on it, but he was different. He had a gleam in his eye, that Eros found himself failing to place. It was subtle but unmistakeably different. Unable to determine if he was seeing things, or if this being was all human, Eros could do naught but content himself by watching the druid's increasing interactions with him. Although, Eros was annoyed that the druid had moved farther from him, to converse with the other man. Foiling his attempts to eavesdrop at the moment. He found an opening and decided he would have to take it. He didn't know if the druid would catch it or not, but he had to try, Eros could only hope the druid was relaxed enough not to notice. He quickly got up, and caught a barsmaid as she circulated the room. "Miss, could you please bring me some wine?" Taking out his severly deflated change purse, and picking around for the required coins. He attempted to make his voice sound raspy and weak, however he had no way to conceal the youthfull tones it contained. Not waiting particularly for her to confirm his order, he took a seat but a table away from the druid's new posititon; his back facing the man he wished to hear, drawing out the coins for the maid.
His head tilted to an obvious annoyed effect. Mediave's eyes narrowed on Eloren, and whatever kindness his eyes held for her had faded now. "Then perhaps you insist I allow you unnecessary harm?" His words quipped with a knife's edge. He paused then, turning his head away from her, eyes affixed on the remainder of the room, though nothing particularly of interest. "Do you plan on following your dark little friend?"
Caneos met Lerectius Synn's gaze and did not break it, seeing the power behind the man's gaze. Maybe he was wrong the first time off... maybe he went after the wrong person. "I assume you are talking about the recently deceased royal? I have no buisness with her, I simply knew that her death would draw the most powerful and influencial people from their usual surroundings so I could meet them. In truth" Caneos stared off at the distance "I simply used this to try and meet the Water master. Instead I have met you."
Searching the younger man's face, Lerectius wondered that Caneos did not know of Mistress Valhalla. Clearly, the half-druid was not from around here. The late Queen's name was Aria, and Valhalla was a Mistress of the Magic Words. "Ah," said the Druid with a sudden nod of his head that freed some snowy white strands of hair from the simple black ribon that held it back. "Well, my son. You're in luck." Lerectius' golden eyes smiled. "I'm to meet with Master Erdein on the morrow. Perhaps you'd like to join me?"
Caneos nodded firmly "Yes, I should like that very much." He frowned slightly at Synn as he scanned Caneos "Something is amiss.. It's as if I missed something you were expecting from me." He thought for a second "Ah, I suspect that I got the royal's name wrong." he said it firmly as if nothing could change his veiw "Who is this Valhalla? Is she important in learning how to use the ancient language?"
Loren had been observing the fellow patrons for a time now and when the Barmaid had pointed to Caneos and handed the druid a drink she had started to look at him. He was an odd sort, had piercing bright blue eyes that made her midnight blue eyes look black. He seemed a little out of place here as if he was looking for something specific but unable to find it. She watched him from the corner of her eye while she faced her sister, Sylvien, and pointed him out to her. Do you know what he's saying. I can't read lips from this distance. Just as she finally asked her sister the Druid walked to his table and took a seat. Now she did not hide her watchings. She turned and faced the table with her back to the bar and watched Caneos openly.
Caneos took a sip of his water, it was much clearer than some of the others that he had. "It appears" Caneos said, smoothing out his lap as if brushing dust away, "That we have attracted many a wandering eye. It is always the way isn't it? The best and the most expensive inn has all the eavesdroppers while the cheapest has everyone in fear of hearing something they shouldn't."
"Ah..." the barmaid took a pause when the hunched figure spoke to her, somewhat unnerved by the timbers of his voice and the way he seemed disfigured. She wasn’t sure what it was about his voice that didn't fit, but she felt that her eyes had lingered on his humped back a moment longer than was polite, so bowed her head and smiled prettily. "Of course! That'll be two coppers for watered wine, and five for the good wine."
Mediave's response brought a smirk to Eloren's lips and some of the weariness melted off of her smooth face. "I insist," she spoke, her voice low but firm, "that I am responsible for my own safety." A gauntleted hand appeared out of the black folds of her cloak as she moved to push past him, her voice lowering further to murmur her response to his later question directly into his ear, "Yes." As she walked away across the room towards Lerectius and the others, she continued in a normal voice. "In time. And he's not my friend."
"So it would seem." Lerectius turned in his chair, groaning about his old bones as he did so, to face Loren. "I'm sure we'd be honoured if you were to join us, my Lady," he said, his tone and his smile respectful as he rose to his feet – with no grumbling this time, and quite a bit of grace – to pull out a chair for her. The Druid appeared to contemplate something for a moment, and then nudged the back of the humpback's chair with the butt of his staff. "And you. Don't think I didn't see you switch seats, Child." Lerectius didn't bother to ask if Caneos minded that the Druid had invited others to join his table, he simply said "I believe introductions are in order", settled back into his chair (after much fussing with his ivory robes), steepled his fingers and peered over them at Caneos.
Caneos frowned gently but didn't protest as Lerectius invited the others to join them, he did have what he wanted and maybe these were more people of importance. This place seemed to have them falling out the timbers. He straightened his navy blue robes carefully. "I am Caneos, I apologise for not introdusing myself earlier." he said, bowing slightly to Lerectius. "And who may you be?" he asked Loren, trying not to sound rude "Are you here on buisness, pleasure or mourning?"
Loren watched Lerectius talk to her and pull out a chair. She caught his drift and moved toward it hoping that he was inviting her like his gestures and body language said. As she came up to the chair the man she had been watching introduced himself and she thought he asked her name... and business... She figured there's be no harm in answering the first question. Her name was of the few words she had memorized to speak. Now if she could just remember the way her tongue rolled during speech. And might as well tell them she was deaf. She still didn't know if her sister had told Lerectius. Well...now or never, "I'm...I'm Lōrendàr." Her speech seemed slurred slightly where it should have been sharper, especially when pronouncing her r's. "I'm deaf. Sor...Sorry I was...staring." Wow I haven't said those in a while. I hope they don't ask me to talk again. Those are all that I know how to speak, she thought to herself. She flushed slightly knowing that her voice never sounded the same as the voices of the hearing. She ran her fingers through her hair and pulled some of it behind her pointed ear. Her midnight blue eye looking to everyone's lips to see who would speak first.
Caneos nodded gently, noticing how her voice sounded as if she had to think about every word. "Greetings Lōrendàr" he said as he looked into her eyes with his own piercing blue ones. He didn't search her like he searched Blake but still met her gaze which could atleast make be intimadated.
Crap,...well I suppose it's for the best. Eros pulled 2 coppers out of his purse for the cheap wine, and handed it to the barmaid. Then got up from the new seat, this time without hunching over, which actually caused his wings to bulge out further ruining the illusion. Feeling the futility of his disguise, he shifted his stiff wings, and proportioned them confortable. Two wide sweeping curves forming, paralel to one another on his back. He pulled the rags from his head, unsheathing a pale luminescent face, with dialated pupils adjusting to the direct lights of the room, rimmed in a red tinted violet. Not some gentle blend of the two, but almost as if they couldn't decide what color they wanted to be at that point, so in lack of a more decisive sign, both showed up. Clearly very youthful, he wore a faint smirk on his face as shifted in his seat to obtain the favored posture. "So, I need to work on my act; darn I really tried hard on this one." Only then did he raise his eyes to look straight at the druid. "I appreciate the invitation to sit with you. I am Erothenos. I am pleased to meet all of you."
Caneos looked at Eros with slightly raised eyebrows, looking in slight wonder as his humps starting to shift around into things that were not entirely human. Caneos steepled his fingers again, not speaking but a million things ran threw his mind. Now he knew the man's name, if indeed it was a man. The entire bar seemed to e converging around Lerectius, that definatley not what caneos had in mind.
Sylvien smacked herself mentally for letting Loren get pulled into speech. She knew how much her sister hated speaking. It seemed as though the presence of so many had her mind reeling, but her sister seemed to be in good care with the Druid. She looked to him and caught his eye, seeing there that her sister would come to no harm. She made her way to were her sister was sitting just to let her know she was not alone. Placing a hand her Loren's shoulder, Sylvien stilled her mind in order to communicate with her sister. I am sorry Lōrendàr, I did not mean for my attention to drift from you so. I know that you are in no danger in the Druid's presence, but there is someone here that I feel needs comforting. If you have need of me, you know how to reach me. Tell me of what they speak later, it could be important. Nodding her head to the others at the table, Sylvien took her leave, making her way over to where Lúthien sat. Motioning to the chair near her, as if asking to sit, Sylvien spoke, her indigo eyes soft and comforting. "You seem a bit lost my dear." Sylvien smiled, "I am called Sylvien, may I offer any guidance?"
As Caneos met Loren's eyes she did not flinch or look away. Instead he was met with the dark midnight blue eyes staring straight back. They seemed deeper than the oceans and had a shimmer like the reflections of the moon off the waves at night. She was not afraid of him, nor did she find a need to fear any who were here. After a brief moment the shimmer was gone from her eyes and they seemed hard now. As if she were focusing on something else. Loren smiled when her sister came to her. She nodded gently when Sylvien asked her to relay the chat later. That would be no problem. Lip reading my not be all that accurate but body language never lies. Loren gently tapped Sylvien's hand to let her know that she would be ok and contact her if needed. Her eyes never left the people around the table though. Help those who need it. I'll be fine. Was all that she told her sister and when her sister left she wished that she could mentally talk to the Druid but quickly scoffed that out of her mind. She needed to pay attention to the people here to understand.
Lúthien had been distracted as Sylvien had walked over. She had sat there in complete silence taking in everything that was happening and everyone in it. Her black hair had fallen in front of her right eye. Though, when Sylvien had said something to her Lúthien quickly looked up at her. "I- um- please sit." Lúthien said moving her hand to the chair Sylvien had pointed to. "I- I am not lost per say, just confused."
"And I am Lerectius Synn, Sun Druid of the Fellowship of Daelorèdēn," Lerectius supplied goodnaturedly. Loren's difficulty with speech did not escape him, and so he answered Caneos' question for her. "Lady Lōrendàr travels with me, as does her sister - "
"And me," a feminin voice interrupted smoothly, and the person to whom this voice belonged sank just as smoothly into a seat to the Druid's right. She was the fiery-eyed and raven-haired woman who had exchanged terse words with Mediave upon entering. When sitting, her heavy cloak concealed less of her lithe form. One arm was propped casually on the table, and the cloak fell away to reveal a long-sleaved black shirt that was laced loosely up to her throat. She wore a heavy leather belt, but what weapons she might have remained unseen. What was most remarkable was the arm she had propped on the table. It was the strangest sort of gauntlet that, in all likelihood, any of them had ever seen. Her arm was sheathed in black iron plates up to her elbow, secured by blackleather straps whose buckles were fashionned to look like dragonic claws. Along the back of her hand, running to her elbow, there were graceful spikes that strongly resembled a dragon's dorsal horns, though of course on a much smaller scale. It was a beautiful, but dangerous piece of work, much like the woman who wore it. "We will pay our respects to the late Lady Aria, then I suspect we'll be on our way. Isn't that right, Lerectius?" Though her voice was light, it was clear she was drawing a line as to how much the Druid aught to reveal.
Caneos raised his eyebrows higher "You have many a strange companion Lerectius" he said, he did not sound dissaproving but more as if he approved "Is there anyone in this tavern that does not know you in any way shape or form?" He looked around at the small collection of strangers, thinking it strange that they should all be accompying each other such. I mean, they all looked as if they had joined together to create a powerful group and not to simply attend a funeral.
Sylvien nodded to Luthien, and sat in the semi-comfortable chair. Looking around the room she took in where everyone else was sitting, then returned her attention to the girl in front of her. "Perhaps I can clear some things up for you?"
It had taken Lúthien a bit longer than it should have to finally realize Sylvien was a moon elf like herself. With this realization she let a few of her guards down and leaned back looking over Sylvien curiously. "There are just so many rumors that I have heard and everything is just soo confusing." Lúthien said in no more than a whisper.
Sylvien was glad to see the girl relax in her presence. Quickly thiking over how she might be able to abate the girl's confusion, she finally decided to test the waters with the girl and see how much she might know, or not know at all. "Please, what sort of rumors have you heard? Perhaps I can be of assistance in helping you work through your confusion." She gave the girl a warm smile, and settled into her chair, waiting, though still aware of her sister and other things taking place in the inn.
Caneos straightened up slightly Rumors? he thought. He was always looking out for new information, especialy about that... The people on the streets didn't have much information about that, maybe these people had some news.
Lúthien dropped her voice to no more than a very soft wisper as she leaned forward in her seat to talk to Sylvien. "Seeing , that you might be on the same side I might as well take the risk. There has been rumors ever since I have left home to wonder the world in search of adventures and company. A rumor that caught my whole attieion and something that said, I might even get my parents, my family, and my people back. You see I wasn't born around my people and my parents left me on my own. The Eye of the Dragon."
Mediave frowned the moment Eloren left him to head towards the table. To him this group was troublesome. So many people, and all a bother in his eyes. Never-the-less, he would need to become acquainted, lest he become cast out. Turning on a heal he stepped towards the table, following Eloren. His hand caught the back end of a chair, dragging it the slight distance left between him and the group, placing it and himself in a sit behind and to the side of Eloren and the druid she sat next to. His arms rest along the back of the chair, and his head on them, his greeting was simple, and with a hint of annoyance. "Hi." He noticed then, before any replied, that the samurai he'd met before he was acquainted with this group had not been seen all the day, and while he'd known him only so shortly, this seemed out of character.
Caneos mumbled a "Hello" to Mediave but his attemtion was pointed at the Lerectuis Synn "Master Synn, who is this Lady Valhalla that you talk of? She seems important..."
Sylvien tried to keep her features serene, but wondered at how much the girl might already know. "The Eye of the Dragon? Interesting, I have heard no such rumors. Though I have been traveling for quite some time. I suppose that it would make sense that I have heard little." Hoping that she might be able to gauge how much she knew already, Sylvien decided to push her luck. "What have you heard?"
"Nothing much really, just that if it falls in the wrong hands we are all in for it. But everything that was being said led me here. To this tavern. I was hopping someone here could tell me more." Lúthien replied with a sigh.
"She's a very important woman," was Lerectius' cryptic answer, casually adjusting to Eloren and Mediave's presence and offering them an inclination of his head as welcome. "Mistress Valhalla is many things," he answered, inlcuding somewhat of an authority in the local crime scene, he thought, but chose not to mention. "But foremost she's an old acquaintance of mine. She's in town on familial business, and I'm seaking her advice on a trinket of historical significance."
The ravenhaired woman's unreadable crimson eyes flickered over Caneos. Though accustomed to being alienated, she did not appreciate Caneos' judgment nor his cursory dismissal. She could not help but wonder why Lerectius was confiding in this blue-eyed stranger, so arched an eyebrow at the Druid and leaned back in her seat. Her gauntletted arm disappeared back into the folds of her black cloak.
Caneos nodded at Synn, he knew that he wasn't going to get a straight answer until he finnaly met this woman. He turned his attention to the black haired warrior woman staring at him and met her red eyes with his sparkling blue ones. In contrast with her stony unemotional gaze Caneo's gaze was flickering with every emotion like fish under the surface of a lake. He licked this tactic, trying to hide your emotions sometimes still let them show but if you let everything out they never know your true emotions. He didn't flinch as she put her hand inside her cloak and instead leant forward gently "I appologise for my curt greating before, I am... unnacoustumed to so many people."
"Clearly," Eloren responded, not unkindly. It was simply an observation, and it was nearly impossible to tell whether or not she was sarcastic. The corner of her lips gave a slight twitch as she watched the emotions pass behind his eyes. Unconsciously, she let him be drawn into her own gaze. There was something deeply unsettling, but also deeply sensual, about the crimson depths of her eyes. Framed by thick black lashes, they almost seemed to glow with an inner light of their own. Inhuman. Ancient. And oblivious to it. Casually, her arm reappeared from her cloak to brush a strand of black hair out of her face. She did not accept his apology verbally, nor did she really feel that it was needed, but her eyes released his and she gave a subtle nod. "I am accustomed to people, and their greetings. As you can tell; I'm terribly friendly myself."
Caneos stared deep and long into her eyes, they were the eyes of the most dangerous person at this table he could tell. While his eyes displayed an ever shifting man, always moving, always playing to his advantage, her eyes revealed the sheer depth of her life, the secrets she locked away and the tales she could tell. A lesser man would have shivered but Caneos was not a lesser man. Instead he was intrigued, he always did this when something more powerful and dangerous came his way. He leant forward slightly in his chair, she was quite beautiful. He knew flashing her his winning smile would go down as well as a slop bucket so he simply gave the smallest of wry grins "Im afraid I am rather the ignorant fool here my lady, but I am sure that noone would wear such an allaborate attire for a funeral unless it was completely neccessary. Most people are comfortable with hooded cowls but you... I was just wondering my lady if you were some sort of specialist? An adventurer maybe?"
As Lerectius watched the exchange, a knowing smile creased his face, deep wrinkles etching his skin, and a new light entered his golden eyes. Yes. Wishing to leave the pair to further discussion, and leave before Eloren became affronted, he interrupted politely gripping his staff more firmly and rising to his feet. "Excuse us," he said with an inclination of his head. It was not immediately clear who he meant when he said 'us', unless he was speaking in the royal plural. Placing his free hand on Eloren's shoulder, cautious not to impale his hand on the armour beneath the cloak in the process, the Druid leaned in and said, "Here is the key to your room. We leave at dawn on the second day." Removing his hand from her shoulder, he placed one of the small golden keys in Eloren's palm. And then he caught Loren's eye and extended a gnarled hand – and a warm smile – to her. "Shall we, my Lady?"
Caneos smiled gently, this was getting challenging. Who ever this woman was she was obviously not for him to question, or atleast he must be more tentative when asking her. He was used to dancing around words though. He also noticed how carefully Lerectius put his hand on her shoulder, she was in armour. So, a weopan, armour... powerful allies. "Would you like a drink? At my expence of course." he said, smiling happily. He doubted he could get her drunk but he may gain her trust. He stared back into her eyes for a second, maybe he could gain it but he knew that would be hard.
Loren had been watching everybody and saw the druid rise and speak the the woman across the table. He then extended hsi hand to her and said a phrase that she was familuar with from her last life traveling as an elf. She smiled brightly and took his hand lightly as she stood. She got a swell of joy as old memories came back that were thousands of years old and had not been thought about in a while. It was a good feeling and she enjoyed the memories for a moment before she forced them back. There were too many to recount in one sitting...or standing for this matter. She had joy radiating from her eyes and the lightness of her step. It was nice to be awake again. Even if she didn't wake up well.
Eloren closed her gauntleted hand over the key and inclined her head to Lerectius, the movement disturbing a lock of her ravenblack hair that falls in to veil one of her crimson eyes. "I won't be late," she said, a mild smirk curving her lips. She could not explain why, but she had the impression that the Druid already knew that she would not linger long in this Inn. Perhaps he had heard her exchange with Mediave, even though he was in conversation with this blue-eyed stranger that sat before her offering her a drink. With a shrug, she dismissed Lerectius from her immediate thoughts. She would solve his mystery at a later date. He was no immediate threat to her, unnervingly omniscient as he seemed. At this particular moment, her attention was intent on the man who had introduced himself as Canos. Bloodred eyes flickered over him, sizing him up openly. She got the impression that he was trying to get her drunk, but also concluded that she could out drink him if it came to that. "I would love a drink if you'll be joining me." After a brief pause, she figured she would indulge him with an answer to his previous question. "I was in Severin recently," she assumed that he would recognize at least the name of the Vampiric Realm, "and though hooded cowls might be the garment of choice here, they tend to lean more towards heavy black cloaks thereabouts."
Caneos nodded slowly, Severin, the way she openly sized him up. She was definatley an adventurer and she is probably quite a well known one. Sometimes his lack of general knoledge was a bane on him. He motioned to the waitress who had served him before, knowing that his smile could keep a person keeping their thoughts on him for a long time. "I would love to join you" he answered finally to Eloren, a wry grin spreading over his face. He wasn't the type to have the tables turned on him.
"I'll take one as well, then." Mediave chymed in, sliding his chair over next to Eloren. His eyes were on her for a moment, before his face shifted to Caneos. Dark hair slid into place to cover his right eye, though his bangs did little to hide it completely. His were of a most strange design, though it only served to accentuate their piercing qualities. He situated himself into a slight slant, resting on the one arm on the table, the other disappearing behind the back of his seat. Social assemblies weren't quite his cup of tea, but at the same time he wasn't ready to relinquish what little attention he could garner from Eloren, and this may serve to further his collection of information. "What'll we be having?" he questioned with more a grin in his voice than on his lips.
"Anything, I've payed my way for tonight and my suply of money never seems to end" Caneos said, a sly grin on his face being quickly disguised as a warm smile. Another stranger with no doubtly many a story to tell he thought, his eyes tracing over Mediave's distinctive marks. You could almost see the flame tatoo around Mediave's collar being etched into Caneos' mind.
Loren followed the druid with out question. She did however take the opportunity to look around the inn and see who was talking to who, were they drinking, and if she could tell from the general body language what they were talking about. Was it a funny conversation? Perhaps, serious or, leisure. She let her eyes search every where as Lerectius led her somewhere she was sure would either be to her sister or be safe. Either way she was not worried. As she looked around she saw her sister having a conversation with someone. It was a serious conversation. She wondered what it was about for a moment then contacted her sister. Have you met a new friend? The sarcasm in her mind voice was obvious as she was wondering who the other person was.
Suddenly there was a ringing in their ears, a mind-consuming silence replacing the sound of any psychic ability that any of them possessed. The moment was fleeting but painful, the more magic that the person possessed – or that possessed the person – the more the emptiness ached. For one, horrifying moment, all magic in Nyan disappeared leaving a silent void in their minds and souls.
Eloren had been watching Mediave and Caneos, with some measure of amusement evident in the crimson depth of her eyes... when suddenly her face went blank, and her crimson eyes faded, flickering around the room, desperately searching. Searching for what, she did not know, but there was a gaping emptiness inside of her. Then the pain took her and her entire body convulsed, collapsing in on itself as she slipped limply from the chair. She clawed at the floorboards and arched, screaming. I can't breathe... she thought vaguely, panicking, before her consciousness was consumed by a white void.
Lerectius too felt the shift in the world's balance. The golden power in his eyes was gone, and left them dull amber orbs. Leaning heavily on his staff, the old man suddenly looked his age. The wrinkles around his eyes and down-turned lips deepened, and he trembled. The veins popped in his grey hands as he clutched his staff, which too had lost its light.
[OCC: Not sure how to respond? Consider how magical your character is, and what would happen to them if magic was taken away.]
Caneos' eyes widened, then dimmed to a dull sheen. His staff shook in his hands before with a splintering noise the end was forced threw a floorboard. He wasn't weak, it was just a feeling of being torn into two pieces. His gazed snapped down to Elouren as she convulsed on the floor. He didn't know what to do except for one, keep alive. Keep yourself alive, keep others alive. He half dropped to his knees and half smashed into the floor as he went to Elouren's side. He grabbed her head firmly and began to attempt to revive her.
Loren felt the world spin as she could feel her very soul cry out in the pain of the magic lost. She groped for the druids arm before her hand went limp and she blacked out. There was a silver light in the back of her mind that she tried to contain. Last thing she needed was to change back into a dragon in front of so many. Let alone that she’d probably kill everyone here if she did. She fought back the change in the darkening in her mind and was barely able to contain it. Her elven form seemed to go ethereal for a moment as her body attempted to over throw her mind and go back to her natural state. Then everything stopped and her body returned to normal, but she was unconscious and had fallen to the floor.
Sylvien cesed speaking in mid-sentance. The world had gone black for her. Visions of what was to come grew dim, and the very center of her wavered. Though it was gone as quickly as it had come, it seemed a lifetime to her. Immediately, her eyes scanned the room for Loren, she had heard her sister's question but a moment ago, and now was glad to see that the room was not filled with the dragon that was her sister, not to mention herself. There, at the feet of the Druid. The vaccum caused by the loss must have knocked Loren unconscious. Excusing herself from the table where she sat only moments ago, Sylvien quickly made her way over to the Druid. "Was that what I felt it was?" Sylvien's voice was quiet so as not to draw attention. She knelt down and gathered Loren into her arms. Her body was shaking, an after effect of the momentary loss. "She needs to rest, and by the look of it, so do we all."
Mediave grunted quietly, his head feeling as if it were just struck by a spiked mace. He lifted a hand to cover his face, peering out between his fingers as he watched what happened around him, and yet could not act. His body seemingly shut off, his arms and legs no longer responding as he willed them to move, and his body was suddenly wracked with pain, as if he were prisoner to the cruelest iron maiden device, a shrill ring bursting inside of his head, drowning out all sound around him. He'd have moved to help Eloren, if only he could move.
"It was..." the Druid answered before closing his eyes and taking a slow, deep breath. When he opened his eyes, they were once again a depthless and powerful molten gold hue, and his staff had come back to life in his hand. He could feel it tingling against his palm as life flowed back into him. He straightened. Welcome back, my old friend, he thought, and smiled. His next words were directed to Sylvien and he crouched down beside Loren. "It's Him." Lerectius sent a quick glance around the tavern, his sharp mind quickly taking in who had been damaged and how much, respectively. "We have waited too long. We must move quickly. The magic has returned, and your sister will be fine in a matter of moments." They all would be. The loss of magic would leave no lasting physical weakness, though none of those that truly experienced it would ever forget the disquieting feeling.
As quickly as it had come, the feeling passed, and Eloren's eyes snapped open. The fire had returned to them, and it took her a fleeting second to find her bearings. Why was Caneos so close to her? A gauntletted hand appeared from the folds of her cloak and grabbed his neck. Her crimson eyes seared into his. She was angry. Very angry. But not at him, and slowly she realized that and released him, shoving him away and climbing stiffly to her feet. She ran her fingers through her long ebony hair, which now cascaded freely over her shoulders and down her back, having escaped their ribon. She sent a cursory glance around the room, and her attention quickly zeroed in on Lerectius. "Time to go," was all she said.
"No" Caneos said firmly, his freindly tone vanished. Now his voice would be used as paint stripper "What in the seven layers of the underworld was that? Why did it feel like my soul had just been ripped out of me? And why did you grab me round the throat?" He rubbed the sore spot and wrenched his cane out of the floorboards, leaning a massive crack in them from where the end had pierced the wood.
"It was a defensive mechanism," Eloren answered shortly, not sparing a glance for Caneos. "And I wasn't talking to you." She shifted her weight so that the floorboard she had landed on was covered by the hemn of her cloak. There, instead of the small marks that should have been made by human hands were great gashes in the wood. Clawmarks.
Lerectius, much more patient than Eloren, lifted his eyes from Loren's form and answered Caneos' angry questions. "That was magic. Or, more specifically, the lack thereof. What you felt there was magic fluctuating. Disappearing, if you would." His hand tightened around his staff, shuddering inwardly at the memory.
"W-what caused it?" Caneos asked, getting his nerve back slowly "Why did we all get so drained?" He panted softly, gripping his staff close as if it was a comfort thing.
"Because magic is an important part of who we are, you and I," The High Druid answered, his voice smooth and calming as he spoke to the young man. "If you look at the Inn Keeper and his dear wife, they were not affected at all by the change. As for what caused it..." he breathed a heavy sigh, "That is a long story. If you would grace us with some patience, and accompany us to the Crow Tavern this evening, I would be happy to explain it to you. But I cannot linger here. We must move quickly."
Mediave took a moment longer than all the others. As soon as his power, his life, returned to him, his mind was ensnared by another sensation, one much less violent, but perturbing none the less. Easily enough aware of everyone and everything around him, however, inside his head he registered many other things. He saw faint traces of places, people, voices in the back of his head, and yet he couldn't draw them out to the front to fully examine them. After yet another moment he shook his head of such things, growling and gripping the edge of the table fiercely as he stood, angrily. "I'm with Eloren and the druid. Now's not a time to dawdle." His hands found their way into the pockets of his coat. Fortunately for him, nothing had tipped off what he really was, and for that, he was reluctantly thankful. "It shouldn't matter what it was..." His eyes fell on Caneos "Stopping, is the point now, before something like that becomes permanent."
Caneos shivered slightly and nodded "Damn my inexperience" he cursed himself. He had never felt anything like that, he would be ready if it ever happened again... He stroked his hood back to let the heat from his robe out, to the Crow Tavern later then... What he hadn't noticed was that his pointed ears were in rather alot of danger of getting seen, he was too distracted by his thoughts and the slight taste of Eloren on his lips from trying to revive her.
Lúthien had grasped her head in pain; the ringing brought uncontrollable pain to her mind and body, the whole purpose of her being here in this very tavern where she sat left her. She felt her own personality even disappear leaving her with since of being vulnerable to anything. However, as quickly as it had come it cleared after what felt like a millennium. It was something she definitely wouldn’t forget. Lúthien quickly looked around and spotted the group where Sylvien stood talking to who she felt like was a Druid. Getting up she slowly made her way to the group. “S-sorry, but do you know exactly what just happened?” She asked still in a shaky scared voice.
Loren woke with a start. She had fainted. She looked around confused as she noticed that she was surrounded by the people they had sat next to at the table. She slowly sat up and pulled her knees to her chest and put her face down on them, letting the darkness calm her mind. She knew what had happened and hope that she hadn't given herself away. Well the fact that a group of people were standing around her was a good sign that she didn't change. But she quickly took her mind off that subject. Then she said to her sister and allowed Lerectius to listen in, We need to hurry. What are our plans? I am willing to put myself in danger to get us there faster...we won't use horses. I'll fly us. Anything to make sure that never happens again. I have bore riders in the past, I know I can do it again. Then jokingly she said Beside Sylvien... I'm a better flier. She smiled and even chuckled a bit. She pulled her legs in tighter for a moment as her mind seemed to throb from the telepathy. She waited a moment for Sylvien and Lerectius to answer, as she seemed to look like a lost child on the floor. Mom... Was the sad thought that crossed her mind with longing.
Sylvien was glad to see Loren's quick recovery from the loss of magic. It was an excruciating experience, but they had survived with their identities still hidden. Standing, she offered a hand to her sister to help her up. If they were going to this Crow Tavern, then she would not let Loren wander from her sight. Loren, we were sleeping for a very long time. The world has changed, and from what I have learned, there are few that even belive stories of our kind. I do not know if we are the last, but it could be dangerous for us to show our true forms to those around us. We may have born riders in the past, but I do not know how these men would react to not one but two Silver Dragons in their midst. Perhaps it would be best for us to hide that small fact for a small while longer. At least until we are sure of what is going on. Turning her attention to the druid once more, Sylvien spoke aloud to him. "Apparently, there is someone, or something important at this alternate tavern. If that is where we must go, then so be it. But as you have said, there is no time, we must be quick."
Caneoes looked around the room carefully, some people seemed to be more afflicted by the drain than others. "Something tells me there shall be more than usual in the Crow Tavern later..." he muttered to himself "Severed heads would chatter at this turn of events.."
"Sylvien is quite right," Lerectius answered, able to hear Loren’s telepathic message when it was directed at him, but not able to respond in sort. "The world is not ready for that, yet, and the Tavern is but a short walk from here." He laid a kind hand on Loren's shoulder, and motioned to Sylvien to guide her sister towards the door. "We must go now," he said so that everyone in the group could hear, and then he raised his voice to speak to the inn keeper. "Thank you for your hospitality, old friend! We shan't be gone long." I hope, he thought, but the confidence in his demeanour never faltered.
Eloren nodded and made for the door, disappearing through it into the falling darkness. The sun had set. A dangerous smile played onto her lips. And the games begin. She had no doubt that Nathaniel had something to do with this, and she intended to find out exactly what had caused her momentary loss of control. And then she would crush it. Fury flared to life in her bloodred eyes.
Caneoes' eyes followed them out the room and hardly a second later he was off after them. There was reason to hang around for others. He pulled his hood up, glad noone had discovered his own small secret. "To find foul fiends, fellows must forge friendships of fortune" he said aloud to himself as he left.
Loren nodded to Lerectius, understanding what he meant, and followed after him. Not completely sure where they were going but trusting her sister and Lerectius she followed.
Mediave turned on his heel, taking a slight lean forward as he followed Eloren, and the other out. As much as he loathed holding back a good fit of rage, Mediave had no target for such animosity, yet. Instead, his mind wondered once more to the strange images and sounds that had wracked at his mind only moments before. He kept all others in sight, namely Eloren, while he contemplated these odd vision's. Who are you..? he questioned internally.
Erothenos suddenly felt very heavy, and very weak. He almost felt as if he had aged 100 years in but a few sparing moments. His wings felt as if they were to heavy to lift, let alone lift him. Being a creature of magic, it was almost as if having part of you ignored, forgotten. Eros, not knowing what it was that was occurring, rolled to the floor, in a feeble move to escape. He didn't get more then a few feet, before going to his feet. He felt as if the words were being ripped out of his throat; as well as a strange distant energy, he couldn't quite place nor comprehend lost touch with him. It all came rushing back to him quite quickly though and he took all his strength and fled from the tavern, leaving plumes of feathers in his wake.
Players:
- [Mira Ravenheart] / NPCs
- [Fearathress]/ Lúthien Anwarünya
- [Fizban] / Fizban's Characters: Rei’Lâmy
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Lathiron: The Crow Tavern
The City of White Gold
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