A new wind blows...

[Wroethgar]

The afternoon sky grows dark, as grey stormclouds roll across the horizon.  A bolt of lightning splinters the recently clear sky, and the light patter of rain begins to strike the windows.  Moments later, a clap of thunder shudders the walls, and a gust of wind hits the door, slamming it open.  Sillouhetted in the door frame is a dark humanoid shape, which slowly steps into the room.  Throwing his head back, the flame of the fireplace flares up to illuminate his features for a moment.  A ratty old roundbrimmed hat sits low above a dark face, his skin dark and weathered from the sun and the sea.  The black leather hat and duster covering him is faded to a deep grey, and stained along the edges with salt.  Sharply pointed ears are framed by locks of long damp black hair.  The hilt of a heavy silver edged greataxe rises over his left shoulder.  As the wind gusts one more time before the door closes behind him, a pair of ornate flintlock pistols hang slung low on his hips.  His eyes glow a pale red in the shadows cast by the brim of his hat as he gazes across the room. Slowly he walks to the bar and gazes over it for someone running the place.

 

[Kiaria]

Kiaria turns to scold the inconsiderate lout who left the door open long enough to blow her golden curls with the damp wind.  The Druid's mouth opens slightly, then closes, as her brown eyes take in stranger.

A slow smile curves her lips as she fluffs her hair back into perfect place and smooths her dress along her slender body.

"Greetings! Greetings to thee!  I am Kiaria Vakhalye, Veteran of Saga, Healer of All!"  A languid wave and a regal nod accompany this salutation.  "Tis something with which I may help thee?"

[Wroethgar]

His eyes lock onto hers for a moment, flashing a bright green for a moment before dimming. 

 "Aye.. perhaps ye can be helping me at that..  but first..  a beverage..  a Brined Rum..  "
::taking her for a barmaid or tendress::
  "And then a tale or two, 'bout those 'round these parts that may be new? "

[/quote]

[Jezerai]

Just as the doors close from the newcomer entering, they slam open again banging against the walls so hard they crack the plaster.  Small bits of plaster lying on the ground below attest to the fact that this is not an unusual occurence.  The force of the entrance wedges the doors open and cold, wet air from the outside blows in, swirling leaves drift about the figure of a halfling outfitted in full plate armor.  A shield with a great sword crisscrossed with a crossbow adorn her back.  "AHOY!"  The pint-sized halfling has an admirable set of vocal chords and the sound resonates in the smallish room.  Her dark hair is untidy and indifferently cut, impatiently she pushes wet tendrils off of her forehead and out of her eyes as she gazes about the room.  Realizing that the doors are still standing ajar behind her, she scowls and turns, slamming them shut.  The doors bang closed and, not quite latching, spring apart slightly. 

Alanni strides to the bar and, though her legs are short, the determination and energy of her pace makes her appear to fill the room.  "TENDER!"  She hollers at the top of her lungs, and you begin to wonder if she has any other volume.  "A GROG!"  A portly man in an apron comes out from the backroom, a harried expression on his face.  Alanni slams down a few silver on the counter.  The barkeep rolls his eyes, picks up the coins, and brings out a dwarven ale without a word.  He has heard this request many times and is well aware that Alanni has no idea what a grog is.  He sets the beverage down before the unsuspecting halfling and returns to his business in the back.

[Wroethgar]

Turning, he watches the boisterous little female come smashing through the doors, quickly writing her off as a too bound to the earth and soil to be of too much use.  But then he notices the heavy man serving, and waves him down, ordering that Brined Rum, having to explain the procedure, and that the pickling jar is the most likely source of brine.  After acqouring the drink, he turns back to the two occupants of the room. 

 "So.. have ye been noticing anyone new about these parts..  Specifically in the surrounding woods..  "

[Lyrima]

Lyrima flings open the door, allowing much of the wind and weather in behind her.  The ranger's long stride has brought her well into the room before the door slams shut with a resounding crash.  Kiaria winces but says nothing, her eyes pinned on the stranger, an unusually thoughtful expression on her face.  The Druid's brown eyes glance quickly at Lyrima, she points to her friend and says a few words to the newcomer.

Lyrima's green eyes narrow as she takes in the stranger talking to Kiaria, then she notices Alanni, slurping down her 'grog.'  Alanni doesn't look particularly concerned and Kiaria is clearly flirting, so the Ranger relaxes and heads over to the small group.

"Yo! Lyrima Vakhar!"  Extends her hand at him, waits a beat, then grabs his hand, shaking vigorously. "Good to meetcha. Didn't quite getcher name."  She turns to the tender and says expansively, "My usual!"  Her grin accompanies her request.

[Wroethgar]

Suddenly another newcomer blasts through the doors, and for just a moment, he wonders how often they need to be replaced.  Almost before he realizes his hand is being cranked up and down and he is being interogated.

 "I..  Me name be Sargas...  Sargas Saltblood.  I had just stopped in to ask a few questions..."

[Lyrima]

Yah? Whatcha wanna know?

The Ranger resolutely ignores the tender's requests for coin, secretly hoping he'll give up and give her the drinks she requested.

[Jezerai]

Alanni scowls at all the interruptions.  "BLASTED SCURVY DOGS!"  Then, remembering she is inside, she continues in a slightly more moderate tone.  "Whatcher think yer doin' slammin' open door and throwin' lots a questions about?  What tha bluddy 'ell do yer mean stuff in tha forest?  There be lotsa stuff in tha forest!  Can't a body get a wee drink o' grog without all these blasted strangers bargin' in an' askin' boatloads o' questions?"  Alanni eyes the first newcomer beligerantly.  "Before yeh start askin' a body questions, perhaps yeh should be introducin' yerself so a body knows who she be talkin' ter, eh?" 

Alanni notices Lyrima giving the tender her usual coin shuffle and sighs.  If the dance is allowed to continue uninterrupted, Alanni knows that the floor will soon be littered with the flotsam and jetsam that Lyrima has picked up in her hunts, in her search for a coin.  With an air of martyrdom, Alanni pulls a few extra silver out of her coin purse she sets the money on the bar, indicating Lyrima to the tender with a rough nod of her head.  "Give 'er what she be drinkin'."

Turning back to the newcomers, Alanni shifts off of her barstool and strides up, staring up in an effort to meet the stranger's eyes with her own bold gaze, and puts her hands on her hips.  "I be Alanni Shortshanks, Future Dread Pirate of Telon.  I bid yeh welcome to our wee establishment and, if yeh dinna mean ill ta any here, no ill be comin' to yeh."

[Lyrima]

With an air of martyrdom, Alanni pulls a few extra silver out of her coin purse she sets the money on the bar, indicating Lyrima to the tender with a rough nod of her head.  "Give 'er what she be drinkin'."

Lyrima grins at the Tender, then bestows her best smile on the pirate.  "Thanks, Lanni!" 

"I bid yeh welcome to our wee establishment and, if yeh dinna mean ill ta any here, no ill be comin' to yeh."

The Ranger nods her agreement, her hand automatically checking her weapons at her waist.

[Wroethgar]

He feels the mood  starting to turn, and realizes he may not have handled this in the best manner, drat these landlocked souls.

 "I tole ye, me name be Sargas..  and I be looking for me brother..  he and I have some.. unfinished business..  He keeps to the woods, sometimes he be a mite hairy..  You'd know 'im if ya'd seen 'im, but more'n likely ye've only noticed a skittish horse, or a silent patch o woods..  "

[Jezerai]

Alanni jerks her thumb toward the stranger drinking the Brined Rum.  "I heard yeh!  But what about yer friend there?"

[Lyrima]

*glances around, mystified*

*barks a laugh of surprised glee*

Oh, ya mean the princ--Uh, Kiaria over there? I'm thinkin' she'd LIKE to be his friend, but it sure don't look like she's makin' much progress.

*laughs to herself, shaking head*