Private Tales A Day on the Port [CLOSED]

[Faurosk]

Faurosk watched in horror as his good work was corrupted. Contrary to what the elf might have believed in the heat of the moment, the ward was not, in fact, a simple radiant ring. While it was a variation on a common spell of similar properties, the ring of light held a constant tie back to Faurosk to maintain itself for a longer duration while also giving him a means to dispel the ward should the occasion arise where it may be necessary to drop the spell. This connection backfired quite terribly, though, once a corrupting force of dark energy began ham-fistedly breaking the ward apart, forcing it to draw even more energy from its caster. The mage felt a taste of bile rise up into his throat from the strain, and he found himself too dazed to think of severing his link to the ring of light, instead taking the drain until the ward finally sputtered out into an impressive spray of radiant sparks that fizzled and dimmed into nothingness before they even impacted the floor.

And so it was that the mage hung back, draping his arm over his gut at the necrotic pain of Eilasandree's counterspell and watching her with ill-masked scorn. His free hand went slowly to his component pouch, being careful not to be seen while grabbing a hold on a small vial filled with ashes. He watched and waited as the undead dark magician stepped up to Rainie's body, biding his time to regain some amount of energy as she went about excorcising Alexium's spirit from her body. A faint heat began to build up in the mage's arm as he saw her conjure up more of that aura she'd used moments before, but her usage of the dark art seemed benevolent enough this time around. Still, he found it best to be prepared for the worst, which meant in this particular instance that he was fully prepared to sling a firebolt at any apparition which might have decided to make an appearance. They were dealing with the greatest mind of a generation, after all, even if he wasn't quite so bright as one may have hoped.

"Congratulations, ma'am," the mage thought to himself, "Now he's pissed at you, as well."

 

[Eilasandree Ival]

A decidedly unladylike 'oof' came from Eilasandree as the red haired woman fainted and fell forward, directly into the chest of the noble, who instinctively raised her arms to try and support the woman. Unfortunately, she had not expected just how heavy Rainie was going to be, and a millennia of nothing even approaching hard work meant that Eilasandree was not prepared enough to hold the well muscled woman up for any sort of prolonged period of time. Couple this with the fact that she couldn't use one of her hands for fear of planting Guarapolos back within his former victim's body, and the elf found herself staggering backwards, wrapping one arm around the stomach of the falling woman as she slid down and immediately being bent over and pulled towards the floor, hand holding the demi-lich's spirit moving towards the ceiling.

Feeling rather uncharacteristically embarrassed about the position she was in, the Banshee slowly lowered the unconscious woman's body towards the floor with as much care as she could manage, releasing Rainie once she was sure that the thief wouldn't feel any sort of pain. Straightening, she lets out a small sigh as her red eyes look towards the unconscious body, before looking towards the amulet she had ever so delicately removed from Rainie's body as she let her down. Bringing the ball of purple soul power next to the amulet, the necromancer presses the two together. A dull light began to shine from where the two made contact with each other as the purple orb was slowly absorbed, and a dull pressure could be felt building up behind the ears of the woman.

Shaking her head lightly in an effort to keep concentrating, EIlasandree put the struggling spirit back into its phylactery-cage, the pressure disappearing the moment the last whisp of power was absorbed. Holding the amulet without any fear, she then turns towards the mage with a small smile. "That was... risky, for a small while there. But in the end all is well. I believe a payment is in order?" She states, before her red eyes glance towards the woman at her feet. "...If you would be so kind as to aid me in putting dear Rainie into bed, I will happily add a little extra." As shameful as it was, the elf knew she wasn't strong enough to lift the muscled woman, and there were no readily available zombies around to help. Of course, she didn't say this aloud.

 

[Faurosk]

The mage slowly began to relax once more, realizing that Eila was no foe at all. The heat in his arm began to subside as he withdrew what elemental radiance he had begun to swirl up, and he stepped beside the elf to look down with slight trepidation where Rainie laid passed out on the floor. Faurosk couldn't help but give a small, relieved laugh at the situation's rapid deescalation, turning away from the unconscious bard to look over at his current employer. "Sorry about that; I was trying to focus his anger on me, and, ah... Well, I guess you'll have to find a way to talk him down from whatever rage he got flung into. And, uh, moving people and objects is one of my many talents, so I'll put that skill to work."

The mage stooped low, hoping that the burning pain of physical drain that still resonated in his forearm would subside long enough for him to transport Rainie over to the bed. He swept an arm under her unconscious form, turning her over to lay on her back before scooping an arm down below her legs and behind her shoulder blades. Lifting her with only the slightest groan addressed to the newly applied pressure on his fresh wound, Faurosk slowly trundled his way to the bed on slightly shaky footing before laying her down elegantly on top of the covers. "... Yeah, that's good enough," he thought to himself as he looked at his handiwork, speaking aloud afterwards in a deadpan tone. "That'll be a couple thousand gold pieces, at least-- I mean, it was a whole five feet, after all. Maybe toss in a crown or two, and we'll call it even."

In spite of his newly-refreshed joking demeanor, the slight pants that make their home between his clauses give away his very obvious exhaustion. He's usually much better at pacing himself, but, well, he'd already had quite a long day even before arriving at The Singing Gull a few hours beforehand, and he didn't even have his familiar to help maintain concentration on what spells he'd been using.

"Oh, right," he thought in quite the rude tone aimed wholly at himself. He'd dismissed his small companion along the way to Eilasandree's residence for fear of what may have happened withing, but the beast should be safe to return now that the excitement had seemingly ceased. Without any further ado, the mage cupped both hands around his mouth and whispered a small susurrus. The whispered word would have been impossible to understand from any more than a few inches away, and yet the power of speaking his familiar's True Name managed to reach out across the expanses of the cosmos to call the beast back to its summoner. "Nota"'s arrival was not immediate, however, and it would take a few minutes before the dog could get back to its purported owner.

 

[Rainie]

Rainie felt as if she were waking from the deep sleep that followed a night long bender. A slight grimace on her face, she hesitantly peeled her eyes open, bracing for the migraine sure to come.

Only the faintest of headaches beset her. That, and it felt like her elbow was beginning to bruise. Smiling bemusedly, she gazed around the room she found herself in. The bed was very comfortable, and the bedclothes beneath her were the softest to ever grace her skin. Sighing in pleasure, she twisted into a more comfortable position and stretched her arms over her head. Her eyes fluttered open again only to land on an unexpected observer.

Rainie’s breath was stolen from her for a moment as she took in the loveliness of the woman before her. She took a long time to take in each one of Eilasandree’s striking features: her vibrant eyes, her snow white hair, her beautiful, dark lips… Like some dark angel, or heavenly demoness, or…

A sleepy smile spread across Rainie’s face as her cheeks reddened abruptly. “Hello, my lovely lady,” she purred, slurring slightly. “Come here often?”

Eilasandree Ival Faurosk

 

[Faurosk]

A weight fell abruptly onto the foot of the bed, missing Rainie's feet by only a couple of centimeters and thoroughly drawing her out of the moment. The mage looked over at the pair of 'star-cross'd' lovers from where he now sat, rolling his eyes in slight exasperation at how his part in this comedy of errors was being downplayed.

"Sure, that's nice all... But you wake up right *after* the newly crippled weakling carries you to bed?" He casually rolled up the sleeve of his robes as he spoke, revealing the lightly bleeding wound where a chunk of flesh was newly missing from his forearm, taken as payment for his earlier spellcasting. With the source of his frustration now abundantly clear to any onlookers, Faurosk began promptly bandaging himself with a small roll of gauze pulled from someplace deep inside his robe while knowing full well the two women would likely go back to oggling one another. He didn't mind; he hadn't been paid yet, after all, and that meant he couldn't eject himself from any awkward situations until the gold was in his pocket.

 

[Eilasandree Ival]

Eilasandree's eyebrows raised at movement from the bed, the noble turning to look towards Rainie as she stretched along the sheets in a way that captivated the eyes. Red orbs roving over the woman on the bed as subtly as she could manage, she almost missed the words coming from the thief's mouth. Almost. Refined eyebrows rising even further up, the banshee approached Rainie as she lay upon the bed, paying no heed to the mage's response, and stopped when she was looking down at the woman. "You could say I do." She responds quietly, as a hand comes up to rest lightly upon Rainie's forehead and Eilasandree's porcelain face contorts into a small frown of concentration, before clearing up again and moving the hand from Rainie's forehead to her cheek to lightly pat it, straightening once more.

"There is a small taint of necromantic energy, but it's the same sort of residue you would find if you checked the air a fireball had been thrown through. It should clear up in time." She says to the mage momentarily, before returning to gazing at the thief. "In the meantime, I recommend you get some rest. Possession takes a lot out of the body, and being unconscious is not the same as being asleep." The banshee took a seat next to the prone form of Rainie on the bed, careful not to disturb her as she looks towards the mage. "If you look in the drawer to the left, you will find it full of small sacks of gold. Take as many as you can carry. You have no idea of the value that amulet now has to me. Indeed, I shall owe you a favour. Should you ever need assistance, please, do not hesitate to call upon me."

 

[Rainie]

Rainie leaned up on her elbows and stared down wide-eyed at the mage. She gaped at his bleeding arm. "Sweet Astra," she swore. "I didn't ask to pass out," she griped, then sat up to get a better look at Faurosk's wound. Her hand froze, midair and outstretched, as black spots appeared on her vision. Blinking did not make them go away.

A cool hand was suddenly pressed against her forehead, and she let her hovering arm drop. She ought to ask the others if the room was spinning for them, too. If she closed her eyes it wasn't spinning, so there was that. Eilasandree smelled nice. Still a bit like petrichor, but that was a nice smell too.

The woman advised her to rest, presumably right where she was, as she did not hint for Rainie to leave. The bard's brow furrowed a bit, but she wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth. It was a very comfortable bed.

While Faurosk was inches from Rainie's toes (in prime kicking range, she noted) Eilasandree perched herself delicately on the bed a very respectable distance away. She listened to the elf lady tell Faurosk to gather as much gold as he could carry, for the amulet was incredibly valuable now that the secret had been uncovered.

Rainie barely suppressed an indignant scoff. "Make sure to leave some for me. My role was small, but I'd say I helped," she drolled. She only found and delivered the amulet, and then you know, got possessed by its occupant. She could still feel his thoughts buzzing around in her head; diagrams, alchemical formulas, details of strenuous rituals. "Although, to be fair, you couldn't pay me enough to take that amulet back, now."

She maneuvered back on the bed until she could nearly be propped up in a sitting position. Her body felt so tired. She took a deep breath and caught Faurosk's eye. "I'm sorry about your arm," she murmured. "Be more careful, will you? No use tearing yourself to shreds for no reason." Also, no use snatching up unknown magical artifacts because a voice in your head told you to. Stupid.

Shaking her head, she smiled. "Thank you for coming with us, Faurosk. You were completely mad to!" She laughed breathily, still quite tired. "I'll be in town for a bit; do you want me to look you up? I mean, it's been ages."

She rolled her head, which was leaned against the wall, to look over at Eilasandree. "And thank you for your hospitality, my lady. I don't wish to intrude; I can surely get a room at the inn." She chewed on her lip, worried for a moment that Eilasandree would agree and bid her good bye.

 

[Faurosk]

The mage continued to bind his wound, unperturbed by the quite startling amount of tension forming a few feet further up the bed. He couldn't help but groan internally at the whole spectacle, giving nothing more than a simple nod at the Banshee's offer of payment, as he was far too caught up in trying to keep blood off of his robes to think of the exact monetary value of his efforts.

"Don't worry, Rainie, I try not to take too much money from high or low places," he said, taking a break to look at the wrap he'd done so far. The gauze tinted slightly red near its center, and the mage went about quickly adding another two layers of bandaging in response. "And as for the favor, ma'am, well... Don't hold your breath waiting for me to call it in, alright?" He turned to address the noble, then, though his voice lacked any aggression. All of the heat and scorn he'd had before was now evidently drained from him, leaving nothing more than a somewhat tired man in its wake.

Content with what haphazard job he'd done in patching himself up, Faurosk put the gauze away and placed an open palm on the bandages to apply steady pressure, wincing slightly at the touch. He knew for a fact that time was the best healer for First-Rule-induced wounds, but damned if it wasn't going to hurt in the meantime. His ear perked up as Rainie addressed him again, this time imparting words of wisdom on avoiding undue strain. He couldn't help but crack a small smile at the irony of the situation, slouching slightly and looking up at her from partway behind his own shoulder. "You're right. I guess I just wasn't thinking straight." He'd like to tell her that it was a heat-of-the-moment decision to save her life, and, well, it was, but he knew that saying so wouldn't help his case all too much.

Faurosk pushed himself up from the bed, flexing his hand to test the tightness of his bandaging. "By the way," he said, looking over at the two women. "Do you want to tell Rainie about how it was an old friend of yours that stole her will and body, or should I? I mean, openness of communication is important, Lady Ival?" His tone at the end mimicked that of Alexium's respect and reverence for Eilasandree. He knew Rainie wouldn't pick up on his implication, whereas the Noble would know it to be a statement of potential leverage should she try to backstab him; a statement of "I know what you are", of sorts.

 

[Rainie]

“No need,” huffed Rainie. She crossed her arms and slumped further into her pillows. “It’s good to know that if I ever get bored next blood moon that I can summon a legion of the undead in three easy steps.” She was joking, of course. She’d need to be magic to do that.

“I remember most of it,” she told them absently. Suddenly, a thought occurred to her and she turned back to Eilasandree. “The torn out pages, from Guarapolos’ book. They detail how to bind one’s own soul to an object pre-mortem. He did not trust his apprentice to do it after he eventually died, so he found a way to do it himself without taking his own life.”

Her gaze wandered toward the ceiling, pondering. “And I do believe his apprentice in fact turned on him.” Eyelids drooping, looked back at Eila and mumbled, “Do you still want them? The pages?"

 

[Eilasandree Ival]

Eilasandree's eyes narrowed as Faurosk spoke, and when she opened her mouth to respond, it was a hissing, piercing noise that gave all who heard it only the faintest of headaches, far removed from the regal and proper tone she had previously used as it rang. “It would be best if you watched, boy. This is no back alley deal. This is between a member of high elven nobility and her contacts, held within the domain of a human noble, where honour and integrity holds import. That sort of behaviour can very quickly land you in trouble.” Then, with a clearing of her throat, the minute headaches disappeared and that familiar manner of speech returned. “I shall overlook it for now, but please do keep this in mind, should we meet again. Which I believe we shall, either through fate or circumstance.”

Turning towards Rainie, the Banshee's expression quickly softens. “As for you, my dear, I must insist that you stay exactly where you are. You were possessed under my supervision, and I could hardly kick you out after that. We can talk about what you have learnt from the spirit at a later date, for now I just want you to rest and recuperate your energy while I gather the funds you are owed. After that, I believe we should talk about a...” She pauses, a small smile gracing her lips, “business proposition.”

 

[Faurosk]

Elves might be known to be set in their ways, but Faurosk was tiring of the back and forth of stubbornness he and Eila were establishing. So tired, in fact, that he decided the fight wasn't worth the effort; after all, she was aged somewhere between a century and an eternity for all he knew, and any lack of respect she carried would be hard-wired into her mentality by this point.

The mage stepped away from the bed where the two women were making love to one another with their eyes, shuddering slightly at what sort of 'business proposition' was going to take place after he left. He took a few steps to the drawer he'd been told was in possession of his payment, pulling it open and stacking his arm with a few of the sacks his elven employer had mentioned previously.

Faurosk turned on the spot, raising his open hand to the room's other two occupants in an attempt to wrench their attention away from one another. "Hoi. I'll be setting out to the Gull, then. Rainie, I'll figure out some sort of tonic to get you back up and operating with some semblance of efficiency. Until then, I'd like to personally suggest you keep from doing anything too strenuous." He stopped talking for a moment, giving her a pursed lipped look and a small shrug to emphasize his implication. "But, you know, I'll trust you can take care of yourself. As for you, ma'am," he turned towards Eilasandree, then, giving her a small, resigned smile. "While I wish you little luck in whatever your pursuits may be, and while you hold no respect for me whatsoever, I do hope the road rises to meet you. 'Til you leave this dark magic behind you, though, which I should doubt you'll do, I reckon we're done professionally."

Without any further hesitance, the mage struck a quick walk to the door. "I'll be at the bar, should either of you need me." Once the door was pushed open and he made his way through, he cast one last glance over his shoulder and passed it between the two women.

"If you don't see me again, well, I'm probably dead. Good evening." And with that, he gave them one last moment to say their piece before shutting the bedroom door behind him and leaving the house.

 

[Rainie]

Rainie couldn't resist blowing a kiss after the mage when he bade her to not do 'anything too strenuous.' She threw in a wink for good measure. Smirking, her violet eyes followed the mage out the door.

"I'll be there eventually! Try to not be dead, yeah?" She called delightedly after him. She grinned long after the wizard was gone. He would be fine. She'd find him later, whether at the Singing Gull or not. She was good at finding people.

Blinking hazily, she directed her smile at Eilasandree. "Now, you said something of a business proposition?" She purred. Her lip slid through her teeth, reddening it. "Indeed, I have experience with nobility and their needs. What is it you desire? Secrets? Blackmail? ...Something worse?" She wrenched her gaze from the elven woman's lips. "I can certainly deliver. For the right price." She smiled, something like mischief or danger dancing in her eyes.

Faurosk Eilasandree Ival

 

[Eilasandree Ival]

Eilasandree watched Faurosk go silently, not having any parting words. Perhaps she would see the mage again, perhaps not. Only time and fate would tell, and that was as far as the banshee was going to think upon the topic of the man. He had been useful. Rude, but useful, and thus forgiveable. Besides, she had another subject to worry about, and as the door closed she turned to look at the woman propped up below her. Smiling, the elven novle leaned in closer as Rainie talked. It seemed she had made the correct decision after all, if Rainie was truly capable of delivering what she was offering.

“Well now, those all sound quite wonderful. If you could deliver, they would certainly be quite useful.” She murmurs sultrily. “Although I must wonder just what sort of price you mean.” Eilasandree certainly had an idea, enjoying the look the thief was giving her as she looked down at the redhead, wondering what the reply would be.

 

[Rainie]

Rainie bit the inside of her cheek to stop from smiling too wide. Instead she distracted herself by toeing her shoes off over the side of the bed, where they hit the floor completely silently. That was one strong enchantment.

The thief curled up on her side and pillowed her head on her bent arm. From her new position she could face Eilasandree completely. She blinked up at the elf and smirked.

“Just a modest wage for my services. I’m a modest woman.” Rainie laughed inwardly at her own ridiculous joke. She bit her lip, debating whether or not she reveal what she now knew.

“My lady, I must tell you something,” Rainie began, peering up at the elf from under her lashes. “I have spent much time in noble courts in my life, entertaining and trading valuables to members of high society. And I admit, that I know of your name… The House of Ival is not well known these days, unless it is in your best interest to invest in noble history and… secrets.” She looked down and chewed her lip again. “The Ivals died out hundreds of years ago. I know this is true. And I know you are much older than you ought to naturally be. That is, if you do not lie about your heritage.”

“You need not confess anything you are unwilling to share with me,” she hastily interjected. “And I do not mean to pry… I suppose I’m merely curious by nature.”

It was her utmost wish to appear calm and collected, but her heart was busy racing in her chest. “And, well… Then there is what I learned from Necromancer Guarapolos,” she said flatly. The memories of the mad scholar were still rioting in her head. They were dizzying, exhausting, and robbed her of her usual decorum. She shrugged a single shoulder carelessly.

Eilasandree Ival

 

[Eilasandree Ival]

Hm. Sharper than she had expected her to be. Or was that Guarapolos' influence there? Either way, it was unexpected. However... not unwelcome. Either way meant that there was something the banshee had to gain from having the redhead linked to her, and as the banshee moved closer to the thief she smiled down at her. A hand reached down to cup Rainie's chin and tilt her head to face the pale elf. "It's okay, I'll tell you. I know you would never report me." It was true, as doing so ran the risk of the Thief never getting another job. "Yes, I am what you would call a banshee. And my house is not dead, merely obscure. I have worked very hard for it to be that way for the past half a millennia. It allows me to live in peace, and continue my studies and businesses without needing to worry about the typical problems nobility must face." It also allowed for some more... clandestine happenings to go on undisturbed, but she didn't feel the need to add that.

 

[Arnor Skuldsson]

The street outside was quiet, especially outside the bar. Inside, there was the soft murmur of words- but then silence. The bar that Faurosk was approaching seemed to grow tense, and the shadows from the window moved to a stand, as if someone had said something that would cause the entire room to grow silent.

For a moment, there was stillness in the air. And then, the Nordenfiir threw the man out the door after kicking it open. The merchant, drunk off of his ass, stumbled onto the street- after being violently thrown. The Nordenfiir stepped through the door- having to duck to do so. He was heads and shoulders taller, and his hair, braided as it was, gave him away as being a Northerner.

He held the merchant tightly by the collar, and lifted him to his feet.

"You never touch a lady without asking, cretin."

Arnor let him stand on his own, and brushed him off. He smiled at him, patted him on the cheek. The Merchant relaxed, and began to profusely apologize for his behavior. Arnor smiled, standing back and laughing. He agreed with him. He would be sorry. Arnor's single, well timed cross to the man's jaw sent him sprawling along the ground. Arnor crouched over him and whispered something terrifying in his ear, before telling him not to leave. He turned to face the approaching mage.

He turned left, and in the dim light, the mage could see his pearly-white teeth gleaming. He waved at the mage walking down the street.

 

[Rainie]

She tried not to be offended at the mention of her reporting Eilasandree to the authorities. She was pretty distracted anyway, what with the elf's proximity and the cool hand under her chin. Rainie suddenly felt very, very vulnerable. Prone as she was in her weakened state, and this tall woman looming over her, it set her heart rate ticking up. It wasn't that she felt unsafe, just... Well. She swallowed.

And then Eilasandree told her what she was, and Rainie's breath froze in her chest. A few lines of an old folk song bounced around her skull.

Murmurs ran along the valleys like the banshee's lonely croon
And a thousand pikes were flashing at the rising of the moon.

In the folklore she knew, a banshee's keen foretold the death of a loved one or family member. She tried to resolve this idea with what she had learned so far about Eilasandree. Still unsure, she decided to keep an open mind and observe what 'banshee' meant to Eila instead of relying on old wive's tales.

Banshees were also... spirits? Brow furrowed, she leaned up on her elbow and reached out towards the elf. Moving slowly, choreographing her intentions with her eyes, which were trained on Eilasandree's bright scarlet ones. Rainie's warm fingers grazed the pale white skin of the woman's jaw. She slid and pressed her fingers alongside and under her jawbone, an intimate gesture, but one with other intentions to be sure.

Unsurprisingly, she found no pulse. Swallowing nervously, she dropped her gaze to her hand which looked to be only a few shades warmer than the cool white of the banshee's skin. Suddenly, fear gripped her. Had she been reading the situation wrong? She had seen how Eilasandree's gaze had followed her, lingered on her... And the elf was rather tactile...

A slow smirk spread over her lips. Despite her racing pulse, she raised her eyes to meet Eilasandree's again. She took a breath and realized just how long the silence had gone on. She scrambled for a moment for something to say, then eventually blurted, "That sounds lonely."

And regretted it immediately.

Eilasandree Ival Faurosk

 

[Faurosk]

The day had already gone on far too long. Tredays had a way of dilating themselves, of stretching out from a mere collection of hours into entire adventures and events that had no business falling on the third day of the week; At least, that's how one particularly worn out mage viewed them. Granted, he never could get the hang of Treday.

Faurosk found his way back to The Singing Gull about a half of an hour after he'd left Eilasandree's current place of residence, stopping at an store along the way to purchase a number of alchemical reagents while he was still in the nicer district of Elbion. Once he began the trek back to the docks, however, the mage made certain to transmute his robes back into its previous lower-profile state, returning to the appearance of a wandering adventurers duds. Once he got close enough to the docks to catch the scent of sewage and sea water on the breeze, a small shape emerged from a nearby alley to walk at his side.

The mage turned to address his new follower, noting that his familiar had chosen to retain its previous appearance as an Allirian wild dog donned in a small red neckerchief. "Now, now, Dustmop- It's good to have you back, but you seem to have missed all the fun." In spite of the seemingly negative connotations of his words, Faurosk's joy at being reunited with his companion is quite clear in the tone of his voice. Stooping to give the dog a few quick scritches along its neck, he got back to a quick pace as he once more set out for the Gull, hoping to arrive with enough time to prepare a tincture for Rainie's particular brand of exhaustion.

What Faurosk saw when he neared the tavern, however, was not the comparably welcoming sight of a bustling establishment wherein he could find a nice, quiet corner to work. Instead, he rounded the corner just in time to see a portly older man being shoved roughly through the Gull's front door. Once the mage saw the brutish meat-pile that followed the older gentleman out, he had all the inspiration he needed to take a long step back around the corner and hopefully out of sight. From the distance he was at, he couldn't make out the muted conversation that took place between the two men. Strangely enough, there was evidently no sound from within the tavern to drown out what words passed between them.

By contrast, the mage heard in quite keen detail the meaty thunk of knuckle impacting jaw. He took a deep breath, instinctively clenching his hand into a fist to conjure up some amount of arcane energy before clapping his open palm onto his chest. While not visible to the naked eye, a translucent weave of warding magic wound its way around the mage's husky form before encasing him in an armor-like shield of arcane force. He took a few more moments to breathe before stepping around the corner and striking a casual stance. After waiting a few seconds for the seemingly violent northerner to cease whispering in the broken man's ear, the colossus had the gall to stand up and wave in Faurosk's direction. The admittedly confused mage blinked twice in confusion, cocking an eyebrow at the gesture. Still, he didn't approach the door to the Gull any more than he already had.

"Ho there, friend. I take it you're not looking for any trouble with me, are you?" He managed to keep an even and calm tone, maintaining a level of confidence due to the mage armor that rested about his body.

Arnor Skuldsson

 

[Arnor Skuldsson]

Arnor laughed and reached down to grab the man on the ground by his scruff. He walked- carrying the man as easily as one would carry a child. Arnor placed him on his feet, patting him on the back. He smiled at the mage- but his smile was wolfish, cruel. Arnor was a scary person, especially up close. He had the strength to pull arms out of their sockets- and in one case of an unfortunate Naga- snapping spines with sharp twists of his torso.

He kicked the man into the street, urging him to get on. And then he turned his cold, ice-blue eyes to the mage before him. He laughed again, a full-bodied, content laugh.

"You're not this man, and you don't look stupid enough to try and pick a fight with a Nordenfiir. Come- and drink with me."

Arnor motioned a hand for the mage to follow him inside. He walked inside, to a mostly silent tavern. The massive brute raised both of his hands up and exclaimed-

"He's gone!"

The bar erupted in cheers, drunk on both joy and wine, and beer, and whatever foul liquor they decided to sell here. Arnor walked inside, heading to the bar. He laid a coin purse on the bar, laughing merrily. It clearly wasn't his. He laughed and placed an order for two beers, one for him- and hopefully, one for the mage that he wanted to walk into the bar with him. He waited at the bar for Faurosk.

 

[Eilasandree Ival]

Eilasandree watched quietly as Rainie reached forward, one delicate eyebrow raising as her hand trailed over the banshee's porcelain skin. She was tempted to say something, yet held off as the lavender eyes woman roamed across her jaw. The undead elf hadn't cast any of the necessary spells to simulate the feel of touch upon her body, and was instead relegated to guessing as to the thief's actions. However, it wasn't that hard to tell that she was checking her pulse, judging by where he hands were. Giving a small smile, the elf waits patiently for the thief to speak, letting out the daintiest of chuckles when she does so.

"It can be." She responds, shifting minutely closer towards the woman. "But after a while, you get good enough at being alone that... well, you last. Not to mention, most people in this world aren't the type that would be... welcome within my walls." A small shrug, a tilt of the head. "That being said, it's always better with company." Her red eyes slid over the form of the prone woman before her, as her smile widened. In the back of her mind, she took a moment to marvel at just how well the news of her being 'an unholy abomination' was received. Most of the time, those that found out panicked and screamed in the few remaining minutes they had left living (granted, the way they died might have something to do with the screaming). Either this woman before her was made of strong stuff, which wasn't likely given the way she had mentally rolled over for Guarapolos, or she had some sort of past experience with this sort of situation.

it was curious, and the banshee found herself somewhat torn between asking, and continuing with... whatever this could be called. Eventually she reached out, slender fingers capturing up the one that had just been sliding over her neck and sliding over the rough palms of the woman before her, the softness of her own hands, unused to menial labour, contrasting with the hard skin there. "I do hope that, if you accept my offer, we will be together more often."

 

[Rainie]

Her hand was swiftly caught by a cooler, smoother one. She smiled softly at the elf's proposition. "Well, I can't say I'd be opposed... to such an arrangement." And she meant it. For many reasons. Old habits died hard, after all. Eilasandree was clearly wealthy, noble, and powerful in ways she didn't fully understand... And then there was the fact that Eilasandree was otherworldly and very pretty. And interesting. Rainie had a bit of a weakness, there. And she had a good feeling about this. She tended to trust her gut in these situations, and it rarely lead her astray.

Butterflies fluttering in her stomach, she leaned in impossibly further. She had to be reading this correctly. There was no fathomable way she was wrong. And that being said, just how many times had Rainie ever been turned down? By anyone?

Heart hammering frantically in her chest, she leaned in and brushed her rosy lips lightly against the violet ones of the banshee. Just the barest of touches. Heavy lidded lavender eyes remained focused on those of Eila. For a long while, she remained where she was, warm breath ghosting over the snow white skin of Eilasandree.

After a moment, she murmured, "Do we have a deal, my lady?"

Eilasandree Ival

 

[Faurosk]

The mage begrudgingly followed the much larger and far more intimidating northern man into the tavern, primarily due to the fact that he would be heading inside regardless of his invitation and secondarily because he'd hate to have his arms ripped off by this apparent brawler. He held the door open long enough for his small familiar to come in after him, though the small dog seemed hesitant to follow the nordenfiir into the relatively unfamiliar establishment.

Faurosk waited for the applause to die down before continuing into the warmer interior of the inn, rolling his eyes at how far a city's manners could fall after a simple walk from uptown to the dock yards. On uncertain steps that threatened to take him away from the notably dangerous situation of sharing drink with a stranger, the suddenly nervous magus made his way to sit next to his new impromptu drinking buddy. Two beers were delivered moments after he'd made landfall to his bar stool, and a look of moderate concern was thrown only briefly to the stein of alcohol before Faurosk took it up in his hands. Raising it to the man at his side and notably refraining from making eye contact, he let out a brief toast.

"To fortune through adversity." Certainly not his best word-smithing, but it would serve for present company. The tankard made its way to his lips in a motion that shook only slightly, draining about two thirds of its contents into a stomach that had already had too little food and comparably too much alcohol for a single day in a long, slow gulp. The bottom of the tankard slammed into the bar perhaps a bit harder than the mild-mannered Faurosk would've intended, and his hand reached to his forehead in a supportive grip. "Or, y'know, to friendship and other such rubbish."

Arnor Skuldsson

 

[Arnor Skuldsson]

An offended look crossed Arnor's face for the briefest of moments, lying in the spaces between seconds. But it passed. It was not uncommon for people to think him stupid, or simple. The accent did him no favors, no justices for displaying his intelligence. Truth be told- he also wasn't that much of a learned man. Sure, wise enough, and decently intelligent. But Arnor could count on two hands how many books he had actually read.

The man had the look of a wizard about him. Nordenfiir were distrustful of wizards in Faarin, mostly due to the fact that the majority of true wizards, people who studied spellcraft in depth, were outsiders. Norden magic was simple and crude by mage standards, archaic and simple to a trained spellcaster.

Arnor preferred the study of the blade to the study of the book. Although, he rarely truly studied. He was mainly a practitioner, a man learned by experience and training. But theories and the like? Arnor tossed them aside like the man who lay crumbled in the streets.

"Fortune guide you, friend. What's your name?" He stared at him for a moment. He didn't want to overstep his bounds, by commenting on his....choice of words. Perhaps he meant nothing by it. Or perhaps he wanted to be friendly, and just was trying to choose 'lower class' words. Wouldn't blame him.

Just like Arnor wouldn't blame someone smashing one of the beer mugs into his face if they took offense to it. He took a swig of his beer, gritting his teeth. The drink was awful here. And not as cold.

Faurosk

 

[Eilasandree Ival]

Eilasandree smiled at Rainie, who was far bolder than the banshee thought she had any reason to be. It was... alluring, such confidence. Her hand trailed its way up the redheaded woman's neck, caressing her jaw before gently holding her in place with a pale thumb and finger. "We do." Was all she said, before the minute gap between their lips was closed again, this time by the banshee herself. Her hand let go of the bard as she moved forward insistently, pushing the sitting woman back down onto the bed even as her hand now went through the familiar arcane rites needed for her to simulate what would be needed. While she herself didn't need to breath, she knew Rainie did, and eventually separated from the prone woman. "I look forward to working with you." A larger smile than had been seen on her in years adorned Eilasandree's face, even as she returned to what she had been doing with a grin. For the first time in a while, she suspected her night would be shorter than expected.

Spoiler

[Right that's me done]

 

[Rainie]

The next thing she knew, Rainie was being kissed senseless by the other woman. She thread her eager fingers into Eila’s hair with a muffled sigh of delight. Pressed into the bed beneath her, she reached up and tried to pull Eila even closer. Her heart was hammering in her chest and she was dizzily wondering what the hell she was even doing, but elated by current events all the same.

She’d completely forgotten the string of conversation when the banshee pulled away and told her that she looked forward to working with her. A breathless laugh escaped Rainie’s throat before her mouth was, again, otherwise occupied.

T’was the beginning of a very interesting partnership, indeed.

--

Much, much later… The redheaded bard found herself slipping out of the wealthy house and slinking down the darkened streets. The sun had set, and the oil lamps had been lit along the cobbled path. In the shadows of dusk, her smile practically split her face.

Once again, she found the Singing Gull, not even sure if her quarry was within. But she was hopeful, if a bit indifferent. If Faurosk had indeed gone to wait for her, she would be delighted to catch up with, in all intents and purposes, an old friend. If not, she’d stay the night at the Gull and head out later, and perhaps bump into him again some day.

With much dignity, Rainie entered the tavern again and went straight to the bar keep to ask for a room, only a few hairs out of place… maybe a little flushed. She was quite fair, after all. It could just be the chill of the evening.

Fresh drink in hand, she turned to survey the room, lavender eyes skipping from face to face in search of a familiar one.

Faurosk Arnor Skuldsson