How'd you get in here? 9/20/02

[Saga Librarian]

Syllestrae

Syllestrae remained motionless, hidden in the bushes as the Barbarian strode down the path. It wasn't until he was well out of view that she stepped onto the road once more. Cautiously, she approached the tavern, sounds of merriment spilling from the open windows. It was ironic... so many months ago that she'd recommended it's construction... and yet she'd not yet bothered to enter the establishment.

She pondered on how best to make her first entrance. Merely walking in and grabbing a chair didn't seem to be the style when it came to adventurers entering inns. Should she wait for a rainstorm, and fling the doors open in perfect timing with a thunderclap, her weapons drawn in a menacing stance? Should she don a hooded cloak, and stealthily make her way to a dark and shadowy corner (if such a corner was still unoccupied) and wait for one of the more curious to approach her? Should she lie in ambush for one of the barmaids as they retired for the night, and drag her back in to the tavern at dagger point, demanding free beer in exchange for the woman's life?

Syllestrae smiled to herself as the perfect answer dawned on her. She withdrew an ancient flute from her bag, Combine runes etched in the metal, and began to play a tune known to bards as Melanie's Melliflous Motion. She focused her thoughts upon the inside of the bar, and the music gathered as magic about her, whisking her through the border ethereal and dropping her in... *splash* the well. Her left foot was solidly wedged in the bucket, her back against the slime coated wall, but still she continued to play.

The music gathered about her once more, transporting her ... *crackle* into a pile of freshly raked leaves. She quickly remembered why this song was stashed away in the dusty tail end of her songbook, on a page marked "useless". Never one to give up, she closed her eyes and continued playing, thinking to herself "Third time's the charm... third time's the charm... third time's the charm..."

Her eyes opened to the warm light of the tavern. She was seated at the bar, water dripping from her leaf-laden armor and pooling on the floor beneath her barstool. A barmaid gasped, startled by her sudden... and altogether dishevelled appearance. Stifling a giggle, she asked "Can I... um... get you a drink, miss?"

Syllestrae brushed a few twigs (and one garden slug) from her hair, and nodded at the woman. "You know, I think a Faydwyr shaker would be great right about now."


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Mixxi Bixiebane
Diva of Destruction

Hearing the small *pop* of displaced air, Mixxi blearily raised her head from the table and let her red-rimmed gaze stagger over the patrons of the tavern. Her eyes came to rest at last on the slim, white-haired figure at the bar.

She caught her breath and ducked her head, staring hard at the scarred tabletop in front of her. She fought through the haze of all the drinking she'd done that night, drinking to help her fall asleep in that huge, empty bed at home.

A face she had loved had returned, but not the one she had wished for. The passion this one brought was not a passion stirred but a passion shared. And the battle-passion that Syllestrae had shown her had consumed her.

She had thought herself free from Zek's lure, but the sight of Syllestrae had hit her between the eyes like a hammer. She sat hunched in the chair, swaying slightly, sheathed in a cold sweat. Why had the bard come here? And, more importantly, didn't the woman ever bathe?


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Katryna Sowdier   
Shamaness

Katryna was just raising another mug of ale to her lips when she noticed the figure appear at the bar, shaking her head she looked again then proceeded to guzzle down the remainder of her ale.

As she stared at the figure it came to her who it was; she had not been seen for a long time, didn't someone say she was dead.

Taking her eyes of the bard, Katryna glanced at Mixxi and worry crossed her brow. Mixxi was once close to Syllestrae, what was she thinking now?

Katryna picked up another ale and guzzled it down, she decided she would remain in the tavern for awhile longer. Kat knew something was not right; Syllestrae had been dead that was fact, who had brought her back to life, how, why all these questions unanswered made Katryna nervous.


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Syllestrae

The shaker was delivered in quick order, and Syllestrae downed it eagerly. The light elvish wine was the first taste to assault her senses. She could taste the scent of spruce and fir that were so common throughout the Faydark. Fine berries nursed in the moonlight by the delicate hands of the fey. The gnomish spirits were next... a bit of a smoky aftertaste but they went straight to the head well enough. They left a slight oily residue on the glass where they'd settled. Finally, the heavy, coarse dwarven ale. It was a dark amber, and quite filling. Syll wiped the foam from her mouth and nodded at the barmaid... "Another".

Spinning around on her barstool she took in the view. There were companions she'd travelled with long ago, and new faces as well. Two faces at nearby tables caught her attention right away. Katryna, the shamaness from the frozen wastelands. She laughed, remembering the woman as but an ackward youngster, and now she looked quite formidable indeed. And there, at one of the smaller tables was Mixxi, drownin her latest concerns in a good drink.

Syll hopped off her barstool and strode over to Mixxi's table. Her armor seemed fashioned almost entirely from bits of insect shell, and clacked rather than clanged as she walked. She grabbed one of the taller chairs from a nearby table, drug it over to Mixxi's, spun it around and sat down in a straddle, resting her arms and chin on the back. A mischevious smile spread across her face. "Heya Mixx, long time no see  ".


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Korg Ironhand   
Blue Ribboned Barbarian

*Korg steps into the tavern once again. This time with a bit of concern. The answer to another conversation has not been found yet, and he did not want to get into it again without finding what he sought. Another day, perhaps. But for now, he simply wanted to let that matter rest.*

*He makes his way to a table towards the middle of the tavern. No chairs available in the back, today. Ah, well. He finds himself in a comfortable place, anyway, and looks up to the barmaid, silently mouthing the word "whiskey" to her across the room. She remembers him from the last time, and nervously begins to set up the order. Bah... Well, hopefully she will remember a mug, not a shot glass this time.*

*He focuses again on the table top, and again, the words of others go through his mind. He has been told by many lately, both lovingly and sternly, that he is growing soft. He wonders about those words. Has he grown too soft to be a threat in the face of evil? Would he naively let down his guard at a crucial moment, hesitating over a matter of conscience long enough for the poison of either a dagger or a lie seep in and weaken him? Has his choice in life made him less of a true warrior?*

*The barmaid arrives, and sets down ... the shot glass. With a half scowl, he takes the drink anyway, and tells her to bring another.*

*He stops, and absently fingers his wode. At one point, he sported the symbol of Rallos Zek upon the left of his face. A "permanent" reminder of his allegiance to the Warlord. But he was called by another. After so long, he was delivered from the Warlord's wrath for denouncing him. Delivered by the Twins. The new wode always caught his eye when he passed a mirror. A blessing directly from the Queen and the Lighbringer. Now, though he would not tell others of it, he cowered from his new found duties. Who was he, to be called so highly by the Twins?*

*He once again finds the shot glass is already empty, and he sits, and waits for the next to come.*


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Mixxi Bixiebane
Diva of Destruction

Mixxi can't help but look up at the familiar face and into the bard's eyes. She holds the bard's steady gaze for a long time, letting feelings rise and fall in her chest. At last the bubble that always rises within her when Syllestrae is around breaks the surface of her turbulent emotions, and the corners of her mouth begin to quirk upward. Before she knows it, she is grinning and gripping the arm of the white-haired woman.

"Syll, you devil. You've risen from the dead and more, and blast you, I'm so glad to see your damned face. Now tell me what madness you're involved in this time and what brings you into the tavern."


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elsbet squishytoes
Flinger of Pies

The old halfling roamed into the tavern, weary-eyed from too many nights of sleeping on the roadside, and too many nights of giving away excellent foods to perfect strangers while she ate stale truffles. She came here expecting a very stout beer, and some hearty conversation, and was utterly shocked to see that bard in her adopted family's tavern.

"Barfella! Bring me an orger swill, o' an Oatmeal Fungus Stout, an, if ye ainna got either, then yer bar coul' use some fixin."

The barkeep smiled a knowing grin at the woman... swill and fungus stout were not very good sellers in these parts, but he had always kept them in stock, in case she should come around again. He served her up a pint of each, and she flipped him far more coin than they were worth, and she withdrew to a table in the corner and proceeded to down them as she looked upon an old drawing.

"Syllestrae," she muttered, "much hae passed since we knew another...I know not wot manner o' beast ye be now, afta all de time ye spend hangin about wit all dem tier'dal...bu' I alway did admire ye an' enjoy yer comp'ny. If ye kin hear me, come an' blabber ta me about yer adventures..."

She stared into the distance, hoping the bard would hear her drunken rambling.