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Rinvië

Rinvië

Mírdan
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For her, given her age, it was quite something to say that she was spending time in a place called the Black Talon, in Sharyrdaes. But then again, there was a time when the events of the last one hundred and thirty years would have fit that description as well. Sharyrdaes was quite a bit different than it once was. She, however, hadn't changed a great deal in centuries.

With a great shout, the orc across from her slammed his hand down against the table.

She remained rather relaxed, her arms stretched out across the bench seat she rested on - mostly because the orc wasn't shouting at her. He was shouting at the dwarf sitting next to her, who had just beaten him at a hand of... what was it called again? Some kind of card game. The Order forbid her from taking part in any sort of gambling, but she was more than content to sit and watch. Never mind the cigar she brought to her lips, or the smoke that enveloped her shortly after.

She was only having fun.

And luckily, not too many of her kin spent a whole lot of time here. And even if they did, so what. She was well old enough to make her own damn decisions. Being over a millennia, there weren't too many who could say a whole lot.

Another shout, and another slammed fist, and the table was in danger of coming apart before her eyes.

"Now, now," she said, interjecting at last, "now why don't I cover this next round, hm? And you two play another game."

Employing a modest influence through her telepathy, she convinced the two to settle down and resume their game without further protest. In the meantime, she hung the cigar she held from her lip, and stood to make her way toward the bar, where the owner, Az'Marith stood, drying glass mugs as he usually did these days.
 
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The Sharydaes order. In terms of creed and rules, it wasn’t too different from his own organization, the Vitae Alliance, though it was perhaps a bit more prohibitive. Still, a hatred of slavery and a desire to protect the innocent was enough to attract the attention of the high council. Moreover, its presence in the falwood put it in close proximity to the Court’s Spring allies. With all of those points of fact, it was only natural that the Vitae would send out a scout to observe the way of the local elves. And who better than the mortal champion of the fae?

And what better way to observe another culture than where tongues wagged, money moved, and fists flew. Drink in hand, Vulpesen moved to lean against one of the support beams, his eyes locked on a game of chance at a nearby table. He could see tensions brewing between the players and his tail flicked in anticipation. If one was aware, then being near the eye of a barfight maelstrom was often the best place to be. The fringes were rife with chance and people looking to get in a good sucker punch. In the thick of it, at least you knew what to expect so long as you saw it coming. As it was however, the warlock's experience in such matters would be unnecessary.

Honeyed words from a pale elf were all that were needed to sooth the tempers and Vulpesen felt a small stirring within his mind. A whisper of a secret from Varos. And the recognition of magic from Lucas. Being the champion of three powerful fae did have its perks. "Not sure if I should thank you or curse you. Ruined the real fun right before it began," he murmured into Rinvië's ear as she walked past. "At least now there's less a chance of spilling my ale."
 
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She cast him a sideways glance, tilting the the corners of her lips upward. There will be plenty of time for that, she thought as the carried on over toward the bar. She needed only lift four fingers to Az'Marith, who nodded and set about having drinks taken to her table. As the barmaid passed, she took her own drink and one other, and then went just near the Zorren. She didn't believe she had seen any of their like for at least three hundred years, and even then she had never spoken to any of them.

Standing so near, she felt there was something more to him. But then, that was often the case with those who had come to these lands in this time of strife.

"I would be troubled to incur your curses," she said with a smile and an offering of another drink, "perhaps I can encourage your thanks?"

 
Vulpesen's eyes darted to the glass and his tail swished in response before he quickly relieved her of its weight. "Consider me encouraged." His until now neutral expression broke into a wide grin as he brought the drink to his lips, swallowing down a good potion before using it to top off the tankard in his other hand. "Vulpesen Torrevaso, at your service." His golden eyes shifted towards the card players, now left behind by the Elf. "Friends of yours? Or just hobnobbing with the locals?"

Rinvië
 
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"Rinvië," she replied, and then turned to look upon the assorted card players with him, "locals? I suppose you could call them that now, and friends? Yes... each of these people," she said with a gesturing hand.

She looked out over the crowd, rambunctious and at times aggravated by one drunken thing or another, but this is what they needed. Her and her ilk, not... so much. But it was clear by the almost affectionate look she afforded the mismatched crowd, there was something more to it. She turned her head to him with a bit of a cant, and a cigar bitten smile.

She took the cigar in hand, so uncharacteristic and natural, and said, "you've never been here before, have you?"

 
"A pleasure to meet you miss @Rinvië." His smile broadened as she accepted the surrounding men as her friends and he eased himself against the pillar as he took another drink. "I've been places like it," he offered in response to her question, "but no, this would be my first time here. Rather reminds me of home though." Looking around, he found there was no lie in his own words. While he certainly wasn't much of a gambler, the rowdy crowd certainly brought back some fond memories of the long tailed Fox and other such places where he had spent his evenings in Veradune.
 
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"Well then on behalf of my people, welcome to Sharyrdaes," she said, inclining her head, "it is not what it used to be, the war in this land has changed much," then she cast another glance out over the crowd, "but then, change brings both good and bad, doesn't it?"

She inclined her head again, this time gesturing toward a more sparsely occupied section, further away from the games, "your home? Come, tell me about it, and I will tell you about mine."

 
Vulpesen winced at the remembrance of glory lost. Something which he knew all too well. "It certainly can. And none enjoy the riches or losses more than those who stand as the harbingers of change." He placed his empty glass on a table to focus on the one he had doubly filled. "Veradune," he stated, a wistful smile touching his lips. "A city among the trees. Beauty and danger shown in every artful dagger. Ever prepared for war, but hidden from it on account of the enemies we've made." His hands drifted to the sword and daggers at his hip, claws idly tapping against the metal pommels. "The troops of the Vitae Alliance prepare to march across the world. We seek friends to defend and tyrants to depose. Our diplomats preach peace but watch for those too unreasonable to agree to it. And then there's the matter of those we serve alongside." A mischievous smile touched his lips at the same time a finger rose to do the same. "But that's not a tale for those who live off of malakath. Trees have ears and scandals abound in our predicament."

Rinvië
 
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"Ours are peoples who have been cut from similar cloth," she said as she wistfully made her way over to a vacant table. A gesture with her hand drew one chair from its place, and then another gesture pulled out another, which she sat on. She set her cup on table, crossed her legs and set her clasped hands atop her lap.

"The people of Sharyrdaes have long sought the same things as yours in Veradune - defense of the just and innocent, the staving of evil. But now, though at one time we had vast armies ready to march as your kind are, a war of attrition has brought my people to the brink..." her countenance fell, and whispers of sorrow drew lines in her features, "there hasn't been much hope until recent days, and yet even now," she lifted her eyes, looking away, and then let out a laugh, "forgive me. It just seems that everywhere I look, whether it be in my home or to the home of a stranger, the same troubles befall us."

Then she smiled at him again, "forgive my despair. It is... hard to deny sometimes. But we are not without reason to rejoice, such as the meeting of kindred strangers, yes?"

She lifted her cup in a toast.

 
"Agreed," he said, his tail swaying at the simple truth stated by the elven woman. "But I assure you, your people are not alone in their tribulations. Evil comes and the good of the world wanes. Our lot is to wait until it waxes full enough to continue the fight once more." He took a long draught from his tankard, hiding the wince as a stream of memories flowed over him like a rock in a stream. "We suffered a rather harsh defeat not too long ago. But we've recovered, I think. Well enough at least that my lords have told me to seek allies in preparation for tribulations to come."

Whether it was his words or her own resilience, Rinvie rallied herself and offered a toast, one he happily joined, clinking his tankard against hers before another swallow. "Its a soldier's life. You won't win every battle. But every day you live is another until your next victory." His smile turned to the knowing kind as he slid into a seat, claws tapping against his tankard. Maybe he wasn't a mere soldier anymore. Indeed, as the champion of the Vitae, Vulpesen was expecting to be something more. But that was no reason to forget his past.

Rinvië
 
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