Private Tales A hunter in the streets

[Rainer]

Rainer shook his head. His quiet incredulity remained tightly sealed behind his harshly pursed lips, waiting to see how Wren would sort out this money issue. Though where she had merely focused on when the payment would be received, he would have planted himself firmly in the cost reduction camp. Three silvers for some hot water in a basin was a good deal of money. Though, he had to admit the continuous supply of Ale would be worth it. That is, assuming the Ale was of decent quality.

His golden eyes grew wider still as she set the sword down on the counter, ponying up with a hefty piece of collateral. For what? Two baths and a continuous supply of Ale?

"Wren..." He tried to interject but the deal had been struck. And she was as stubborn as an old oak when it came to this sort of business. There was no stepping her back now. And the Inn keeper had won a hefty offering: either he'd receive his money or he'd have quite the jewel to pawn off for whatever his currency would eventually buy. Something made Rainer assume that it wouldn't go towards improvements at the Inn.

The Innkeeper made his way back and set down two pints of dark stout in tankards of pewter. The Inn had died down since they last occupied the upstairs suite, with many of the inhabitants slouching over wooden tables or finding a bit of comfort near the churning hearth. In times spent alone, he could imagine many of his moments spent in rumination at a place like this.

He grabbed both tankards and tilted his chin towards an empty table and chairs, near a window that was partially open via wooden slats. "Come on, lets get the rest of our business out of the way before the baths are drawn..."

 

[Wren]

Collateral was the way of the world when pay was pinched. Wren knew this, though it didn't make handing over her sword any less of a squeeze. She eyed the Innkeep before following after Rainer and dropped herself into the chair opposite him, gaze shortly drifting through the slated window. It was likely getting close to midnight, which made her curious as to the number of people still milling about.

It wasn't a lot of people, but substantial enough to beg the question, "Doesn't this city ever sleep?"

Apparently not. Wren looked distractedly back to Rainer, drawing her tankard towards her before looking to him, waiting for whatever the rest of their business was to discuss.

 

[Rainer]

"Worldly pursuits and possessions, attract the eyes of men, and know not the measurement of hours..." He murmured quietly as he rummaged around his pockets. Pulling out his leatherbound book, he patted himself down before pulling out two black pieces of graphite. Based off the way he looked at the two objects, it was clear there was something wrong.

"Damnit...that tussle in the sewer must have broke the graphite." He shook his head and set the smaller piece back in a pocket, grasping the overly small one in his oversized hand and rubbing it back and forth across the table. "Al'right, lets see here..."

As he whittled the graphite down to a drawing edge, he opened the book and began turning pages. Undetermined sets of sheets were reserved for different strains of Vampirism, ranging from high vampires all the way down to the street dwellers and the more monstrous. While it wasn't clear at first how the book was organized, it was fairly easy to discern that those in the front of the book had extensive amounts of information while those in the back - not so much.

The Alukrah was very much towards the back.

"I don't imagine we will be dealing with one these again very soon. I'm actually curious how this one got here as the standard range is from..." He flipped over to the hand drawn map on the inner sleeve. "The Steppes. Would have needed to cross the Alliria Strait and then circle around the Cairou...unless he could use greater magics and passed the stones." He rattled a bit, getting caught up in the very hypotheticals he dissuaded Wren from. Turning back to the page on the Alukrah, he began to sketch the countenance of the severed head with unusual focus.

 

[Wren]

The journal was a novelty item she'd seen few times and knew less of. He kept his notes in there, and that was about all she knew. Wren was holding her tankard in front of her face for easy access to consistent sipping after an initial deep glug. It was from over the rim that her hazel eyes tracked the movements of the graphite across the pressed parchment, watching with curiosity as the vague outlines of the grotesque face began to take form.

She was silent while he drew, still while he concentrated. Not quite at peace (that would happen while she soaked in hot water) but certainly the calmest she'd felt so far that evening. It had been something of an adventure the past two months following this man around, learning how to be a different sort of beast. Every few days something new to be learned of him.

Today she learned he was an artist.

"That's-" Wren coughed as the ale splashed down the wrong pipe, "that's very good. Your drawing-" a sputter, she cleared her throat, "the ale is only okay."

 

[Rainer]

He chuckled, taking in the rare moment of being complimented. Between shirking through the shadows, killing beasts, and dealing with sometimes overwhelmingly stressful situations, this whole circumstance was a rarity. But to catch her off-guard in a more positive scenario, it made the ale taste a good deal better than okay.

"Thank you..." He put the finishing touches on the hook of the beasts nose, shadowing in the cheek bones faintly to indicate the monsters gaunt appeal, and carving out a crook in the monsters left ear. It seemed it was a scar, or perhaps where a bit had been taken by another beast, and never healed back properly. He found that odd that just like the Vedymin, this Alukrah wasn't a perfect healer.

"It's not often that I get the opportunity to put something new in here..." It was an old book he began a long time ago, back in the dusty tomes of the Colleges of Elbion. A traveling student, he was on occasion allowed entrance. For all the myths and untold lore, he consumed it with an unmatched appetite and filled his mind with truths and half truths. Now, it become a matter of correcting poor habits.

Wiping away the dust of the graphite, he whittled it back down as he read over some notes with a clearing of his throat and the mocking tone of a scholar. "Moribundus volume 3, subsection 9 - On the Whims of Procreation. There is no more vast a gap than the outward stretches of habits and habituations, spanning the distance from one strain to another. None more can capitulate this fact than to compare the common vampire to that of the Alukrah. A common vampire may only breed through bite, this is well known. However, an Alukrah may breed through multiple avenues. Through simple touch of the mind, common man may be ensnared by the grip of the bleeding leech. Like a festering wound, the common man rots into something perverse and tormented." He dropped his tone for a moment and set the book down, taking a drink from the tankard.

"The feral vampires we fought. I wonder if you had or still have similar powers. The time frame is unclear..." Looking up from the notes, his eyebrow lifted. "I felt you rummaging around..." He pointed to his temple to his cheek bone. "See anything interesting?"

 

[Wren]

Wren snorted into her drink at his mockery of the scholastic, sinking back into her chair with a half smirk pinching upwards into a scar covered cheek. So he was a bookworm, too, and he could -apparently- read and write. If she didn't know any better Wren might think she was experiencing an inkling of respect towards the man.

Just an inkling.

The scoff came next, "Excuse you, I did not rummage." Tankard lifted for another drink, Wren hooked her right arm over the back of her chair, "Not my fault you're a loud and obnoxious thinker."

 

[Rainer]

He laughed, unsure of whether she had heard his thoughts and was playing hard to get, or simply was too caught up in her newfound powers to navigate the sounds. He had experienced torrents like that before, caught in the confluence between what was and what would be, if only for the passing moments. Even occasionally he had mourned the passing of the rarer powers that were bestowed through blood. Though, a famine was never more keenly felt than in the blanching of the skin, the requisite step back into the shadows.

Setting back to the book, he adopted the voice again. "But even more rare than the telepathic link between the slave and its master, is the Alukrah budding. It is an event for the epoch, marked by increased feeding and ravenous death. They must amass a great deal of power to bud, producing an offspring that is, as far we can understand it, the point at which the Alukrah is the most formidable. Immune to the common weakness of crossing water, it is neither kept nor betrothed to primordial superstitions or fears. For while not every Alukrah carries this weakness, instead inclined by fear of pain and the loss of memory that comes with such enormous longevity, not a single new born Alukrah is held back by water."

He stopped reading and took to the parchment with a bit of focus. He began to jot down some notes. "So they are weak against silver, weak against light. Most can't...or won't...cross water." Lifting his eyes to Wren, he titled his head. "Of the two of us, you were closer to it. Tell me about your experience, is there anything we can glean?"

 

[Wren]

Of what she saw in his thoughts those that stood out the most were the ones of her ass. Wren narrowed her eyes at him as he laughed, taking another casual drink while she considered this. The man was horny, big surprise. Not that she could blame him, of all the things to remain a constant she'd always had a great ass.

Wren finished off her mug and motioned to the server for another round, thinking for a moment she was hungry when she knew for a fact that she wasn't. Old habits, perhaps, though normal food had lost much of its luster for her in this new form the look and smell of a leg of lamb on a platter was still tantalizing. The hunger itch persisted, perhaps like a ghost limb.

"So it crossed into the area while it was at its height of power, ready to bud," made sense to her, "seeking out a place for its whelp to grow in. Elbion could have been new, a busy but small trade port. Probably looked ideal at the time..." and then the whelp was trapped. Or was the ancestor trapped and the whelp died off? She'd drank from the ancient and burned with agony at the bridge. If only the oldest were susceptible to the curse of running water, it stood to reason they'd just slain one of the eldest.

"Mm," her brow set in thought, "I could sense its progeny. All of them. Not one of them had an original thought ... strikes of hive mind if you ask me."

 

[Rainer]

"Maybe..." He liked where the discourse was going, regarding the Alukrah and its origin. He had an alternative theory but at the end of the day, they were both circling the same drain. "Or maybe they hibernate? And during that time frame, the College and predating architecture was erected around him. Given the ravine and other restrictions, perhaps he got trapped down there and the only way to get a response was to have a child that wasn't so...confined?"

As the subject moved to her direct experience, he took the graphite back to the parchment. Writing down Hivemind, he followed it with a question mark and underlined it. That felt important, particularly since they were both effectively part of the hivemind. And then, as she consumed the Alukrah's arm, Wren set herself outside of it. Or, perhaps, above it. Given proper understanding, he wondered what sort of control she could push upon the enthralled.

"It was fairly clear from how they fought that they were driven by base instinct...fear, hunger, that sort of thing." He recalled the Alukrahs voice in his head, the way it seemed to request. The change through telepathic wound must have reduced the humans to nothing more than flesh and bone. And from that, they were clay in a sculptors hands.

Finishing off the drink, he intercepted another mug and took a swig before setting it down on the table. "Of course, there is no evidence that holy relics or rituals affect the Alukrah...and you seemed unaffected by visiting the temple. Or...church? Whatever that was."

 

[Wren]

"Bunch of bullshit, what it was-" the contest was given over a wide sweeping glance upwards and a fresh guzzle of ale.

"Sit and find peace-" she mocked the Priestess with a tone several levels higher pitched than her own alto. A snort followed, some indistinct and likely rather rude mutterings into her tankard and a solid eye roll to top it off, as well.

Her tankard set on the table with a clonk, Wren wiped at her face with the back of her fingers, attempting to avoid smearing further dirt and not having much particular luck. Covered. She was covered in nasty. She could smell herself. Ugh, were the baths ready yet?

The woman gave an irritated glance towards the back, shoulders rolling in a suggestive shrug, "Maybe they wore off by the time we got there. You would think a dunk in blessed water would have done something to...that." She stabbed the scalp of the head with her pointer finger, watching with disgust as it roly-polied about.

 

[Rainer]

"It's a dangerous game to play with a Priestesses so close to the College. You never know what they might be capable of..." He had dealt with his fair share of hypocritical holy man, clergy, and prophets. As often as they were full of shit, a few of them had the potential to surprise and knock the unexpectant right on their ass.

"I would say it's a fifty fifty shot that it would do anything. After all, the Vedymin aren't affected by such things either..." Though why that was, he wasn't sure. Perhaps the strains, their weaknesses and strengths, were tied to the original strain or mutation. Perhaps for them, the original Vedymin was a day loving atheist who was a glutton for the finest and most diverse foods. For the Alukrah, perhaps the Steppes had burned out any love for the sun and with such little water, they had never learned to swim.

Or maybe that was all bullshit as well.

He closed the book and wrapped the leather strap back around the silver broach. Pocketing the graphite, he hid the book back in his leather armor and leaned forward. Tapping on the tankard as he cradled it, he inspected Wren with an unrepentant level attention. From the way the candle flickered against her jaw line, to the way the shadows of various fruits on the table bounce against the scar on her cheek. To her nose.

"How's your nose..." He squinted, wondering about the best way to maneuver around that little issue. "Have you always had such issues with strong odors?"

 

[Wren]

"The holy don't scare me," she shot off, nursing her mug as she reclined in her chair, eyes shifting off to survey the faces remaining at the various tables of the inn. Old men, mostly. Not many women about. Did they have some kind of curfew?

A look back at the nose remark, a sniff, she looked away with what might have been mock disdain, "It's an elf thing, you wouldn't understand." Sip.

 

[Rainer]

He laughed, crossing his arms over his chest. "An elf thing, huh?" She was probably right, he wouldn't understand. A keen sense of smell was something he assumed was inherited from the Vedymin strain, not sure if his original heritage had much to do with it. If it did, he didn't credit it as so.

Just then, the Innkeeper strolled by and gave them a curt nod. "The bathhouse is ready whenever you are...Bring ya beers, we'll fill em up as you go."

 

[Wren]

Might've caught a smirk at his laughter behind her tankard as she took another drink. A disdainful smirk that vanished the moment the Innkeeper showed up.

"Thank. Fucking. God." Wren was enthusiastically to her feet, drink in hand, "If I have to sit in this skin any longer I'm going to fucking peel it off. Lead the way, Chief."
The Innkeeper, lofted a brow, momentarily amused, "Name's Harreth, but Chief will do. This way."
"Harreth," Wren commented as she walked at the man's side, a bit more social than normal. The ale was kicking in, "that Marge your wife?"
"Sister, actually. Wife died in labor few years ago giving birth to my daughter."
"That is a terrible shame. My condolences,"
"Ehh," he waved it off, clearly not one to talk about it, "I've got ma daughter. Pretty as a peach, she is. Marge looks after us both."
"Not one for children myself," Wren replied with a facial shrug, completely oblivious to an ironic fact, "but I appreciate those who can raise them well. Good on your Sir, good on you."
"Thank you, Miss. Now-" as they walked outside to the back courtyard behind the Inn, he pointed to the building towards the back, "bath house is there. Ladies to the right, gents to the left. Marge will be around to fill your tankards."
"You're my favorite person of the day, Harreth."
"Can't say I've ever heard that before."
"Ouch."

 

[Rainer]

Rainer was content to let Wren do all the talking. And talking is, apparently, what she wanted to do. At the mere thought of getting out of her bloodied rags and into some steaming water, she was as about as loquacious as he had ever seen. At least, prior to her change.

He mentally cringed at her mentioning children and not being for them. It was, as far as he could tell, the most difficult part about transitioning another living being to the Vedymin strain. She had forgotten everything and by his own code, it wasn't Rainers place to inform her. He toiled in the darkness of his memories and found, over the years, that it was as formative upon as his person all other advantages and disadvantages of the path.

Her change weighed heavier on his conscious than he was likely ever to admit.

"Harreth..." Rainer pointed to with his tankard. "What's all this about?"
"That?" Harreth rubbed his hands together. "Best bit, I'd say. Open hot spring that feeds the steam. We pull the water out of a well nearby. People use the spring for relaxing." Harreth turned to Rainer. "After the bath. Not 'fore, ya hear me?"
"Yeah, I hear ya Harreth. Is it separated for men and women?"
"Ehh..." He scratched the back of his head. "Don't really see women use that all too much. Suppose it's just for men typically...but I ain't yer mum so do whatever ya want. So long as you..."
"Bathe first." Rainer interrupted. "No need to chew your cabbage twice, Harreth."
Harreth let out a laugh. "Yer al'right." He pointed to the line on the opposite sides of the building. "Windows inside to let the steam out. Throw your clothes up on the line and we'll get em proper scrubbed."

Fair enough. Seemed to Rainer that the 3 silver was starting to seem more and more like a deal. As Harreth left, Rainer approached the door and knocked with the tankard. He expected to hear a response, which is exactly the opposite of what he got. Looking over to Wren, he unclipped one of the hooks of his armor. "Too bad about the separate bath houses. Liable to get lonely in here..."

Pushing open the door, he went in.

 

[Wren]

Wren was feeling very good about this whole situation now. The more she drank, the more the previous three hours seeped away from conscious thought. One hand planted at her waist, she surveyed the courtyard with interest as Harreth explained, thinking that she'd make a point to be one of the few women who put the hot spring to use.

After a bath.

God's above if that train of thought wasn't heaven on the brain she didn't know what was.

She drank deeply, draining her tankard with an eye watching Rainer walk off after that bomb of a suggestive comment. Was he ... coming on to her?

Nievana n'ha n'ha.

She mentally shrugged and made her way to the ladies entrance, nearly walking directly into Marge as she was exiting.

"Oh! Oh-" Marge startled, blanching as Wren's figured filled the doorframe, "forgive me Miss. The bath is all set for you, can I get you-"
Wren held up her empty tankard, smiling waspishly.
"Right, of course," she stepped aside to let Wren in and moved to pick up a wooden pitcher and topped her off, "do'ye need any help with your armor, Miss? My brother squired for a Knight when we were younger, I got to help from time to time."
"Harreth? A squire?" Wren's brows lifted high towards her hairline as she stepped inside and stopped by a table, setting her drink down, "Now there's something unexpected."
"Mmhm, he had his eye set on becoming a Knight," Marge moved in to begin working the buckles that held her pauldrons in place, "but he took an arrow to the knee and could never move the same after."

 

[Rainer]

It was unfortunate that, unbeknownst to Rainer, Wren had outright confused flirting with an invitation. The night was young and for them, so was the millenia. He had other opportunities.

Stepping into the bathing area, the room was built in a fashion that led from bath to saunas. The front was wet wood, lined comfortably with copper baths and tables next to them. Cleaned razors, soap, face clothes, the works. Rainer was, for a brief moment, taken back by the whole ordeal. He was now really feeling like that the 3 silvers was entirely appropriate.

Beyond the bath tubs, steamed rolled out of the saunas with an alcove lined in benches in the shape of an L. One young man sat in the back, covered from the waist down in a canvas cloth, and was casually pouring water onto hot coals. With every pass, the room breathed out with more heat.

Finding a table, Rainer made quick work of his armor. Setting that down on the bench, he pulled himself free of the clothes and flung them through the window and on to the line. Without any more time wasted, he slid into the bath with an empty tankard in hand. And then knocked his knuckle against the pewter, loudly.

"I'm ALL OUT OF ALEEE!" He wasn't intent on being annoying. But a mans gotta drink.

 

[Wren]

"YOU WAIT YOUR TURN," Wren bellowed back.

Marge looked rattled, eyes wide under the warm light of sconces.

"Don't worry about him, he's harmless like an old dog." Wren pulled off her gauntlets, tossing them aside before setting to work on her arm plates, "All bark and gums."

Marge giggled, "How did you become a warrior? I've not seen a woman in such armor before."
"Not a common sight anywhere for humans."
"Yeh mean yer not a human?" Marge blinked.
Wren brushed her hair aside to reveal her hears which had been previously hidden from sight.
"Oh, I couldn't tell otherwise. An elf then?"
"Half elf," Wren nodded.
"Is...is the teeth part of it? I knoh there's lots of kinds of elves, though we don' see many of them here."
She had to give pause at that before answering. Claiming to be a vampire was a good way to get kicked out of just about any place on Arethil, "Yeah," she said, "that's part of it."

Marge finished unstrapping Wren's breastplate and helped her lift it free, carefully setting it aside with some effort. Thing was heavy.

"If yeh put yer clothes out on the line I'll be sure to wash 'em good. Would..." Marge gave a frowning glance at the pile of exceptionally gritty armor, "would you-"
"Don't you worry about that, I'll take care of it."
Some relief came over the woman's face, "Do yeh need something to wear for the night? A sleepin' gown perhaps?"
Wren smirked as she pulled off the final layers, revealing a body riddled by burn scars all up and down the right side, "Do I look like a gal who wears sleepin' gowns?"
"No...I s'pose not," Marge smiled sheepishly, "I'll go fill yer friend's tankard then. I'll see what I can find fer yeh then to wear. Let me know if yeh need anything."

And off she went with her pitcher to the mens side with a knock, "'scuse me Sir, I've got yer ale. Are yeh decent?"

 

[Rainer]

Good thing for Rainer, he was far more patient than Wren when it came to most matters. Time was a thing that was, fairly often, on their side. But with the persistent hunger, that was something easily forgotten.

...Are ye decent?

He lifted his head up from a rather slacked position, one leg propped over the rim of the copper tub, and looked towards the man at the sauna. "Hey..." He whispered sharply. "What the hell she mean by decent?"

The man laughed and flapped the front of his towel, like he was airing out. Rainer opened his mouth to an inaudible oh expression and nodded. Dropping his leg back into the water, he pulled the towel off the table and placed it strategically on the water.

"Uhh yeah, best I can do."

The door swung open and Marge strolled in, casually eyeing his armor of leather, plates, and mail that rested against a bench beneath the open mirror. Moving towards Rainer, she stopped just next to the tub and begin filling the tankard. She stole a glance here and there and Rainer pretended to not notice.

"A bit more than bark and gum, I'd say..."
"What?" Rainer opened his eyes and rubbed warm water over his face.
"Oh, nuffin'. Just got lots of scars, like the lady warrior over there."
"Notches in the belt..." He replied as he took the tankard in hand and thanked her with a gesture and smile. "Appreciate it Marge."
"Yer welcome, sir."
"Rainer..." He quipped. "Or Rain. Not sir."
"Ok. Just yell if you need anything else." She smiled and ducked out of the bath area, eyeing the armor once more before leaving through the door.

 

[Wren]

Clothes hung on the line just outside the window, Wren turned to the tub and eyed it like a thirsty man eyed a beautiful whore.

Almalonithel be merciful.

Wren stepped into the tub and sank down into the steaming waters with a pleased moan. Who'd have thought a vampire would enjoy such things? Not she, for certain. It was nearly as good as the first bite after a long stint of skipped meals. Feet just barely reached the end, swishing through the waters as she ran her hands over her limbs.

Leaning back, she slid along the angled scoop of the tub end until she was submerged, fingers scrubbing at her face to release the layers of grime, blood, and sewer gore. Running them next through her tangled hair, the half-elf resurfaced and wiped the water from her face. Her hand searched next for her tankard of ale. Upon finding it she eased back to recline in the tub, a peaceful smile forming on her lips.

Yes, there was the peace.

Marge was outside the bath house collecting the clothing from the line and singing a tune.

RISE! Sleep no more! ’T is a noble morn:
The dews hang thick on the fringed thorn,
And the frost shrinks back, like a beaten hound,
Under the steaming, steaming ground.
Behold, where the billowy clouds flow by,	5​
And leave us alone in the clear gray sky!
Our horses are ready and steady.—So, ho!
I ’m gone, like a dart from the Tartar’s bow.
Hark, hark!—Who calleth the maiden Morn
From her sleep in the woods and the stubble corn?	10​
The horn,—the horn!
The merry, sweet ring of the hunter’s horn...

 

[Rainer]

It wasn't long before Marge's singing faded and Rainer was about done with marinading in the copper tub. Pulling a larger towel from the table, he staggered out from the tub and wrapped the towel around his waist. Spying out of the window, he noticed that the clothes were clean and hang drying. With the current moving in and out of the bath house by steam, he was sure it wouldn't be long before they had clean clothes to retire in.

"You should try out the spring..."

Rainer looked over his shoulder as the man in the sauna pulled the towel off his head. His skin was olive toned and his hair was dark and slick, cut close. Not uncommon for royalty and their ilk. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

That was enough of a raving review for Rainer. Tightening the towel over his waist, he strode out from a different door with tankard in hand, marked for the spring. It led into an enclosed space around a large simmering pool, shrouded by an impressive privacy fence. The brief moments passing in the breeze helped to wake him up a bit as he looked around. He spied Marge, picking up various towels, and waved. "Uhh, do we need garments for the pool?"

She shook her head. "We prefer you didn't, actually."

He found that odd but wasn't entirely opposed. Shrugging, he removed the towel and placed it against the wooden slats that lined the perimeter of the spring. Stepping in, he looked over his shoulder, as Marge was doing a good deal more than stealing a glance. Unsurprisingly, there wasn't an ounce of blush in her cheeks. Fully submerged, he let out a sigh as he overcame the scents of sulfur and settled against the slats.

 

[Wren]

Wren soaked until her water was no longer hot, then departed the tub. Her armor needed a good scrubbing but most of the grime was caked on deep and it had been some time since she'd had access to a bath. So instead of getting straight to elbow grease, she dumped her metal armor pieces into the tub.

"Marge?"
The woman outside was pulled from her staring, a wry little look on her face as she headed back into the bath house, "Yes Miss?"
"I need a comb, a scrubbing brush, some leather oil, and a rag."
Marge blinked at the image of the naked woman and nodded, "Anything else Miss?"
"Another ale."
"Of course."

The ale was filled with the pitcher on the way out, cool enough to be considered refreshing after a soak in hot water. She returned after a short while to find Wren wrapped in a towel sitting on a stool next to her tub, rubbing away grime from her soaking armor by hand.

"Oh but that can't be good for your armor?"
"It's fine," Wren replied without looking, "water's no bother."
"What about the leather?"
"That's what the oil is for. Did you have a brush?"
"Yes," Marge nodded, "here. ...what, ahm, what is the comb for, if yeh don mind my askin?"
At this Wren sat up and looked at her over her shoulder, "For my hair."
A wary little laugh sounded from Marge, "Yes, of course. Silly me. May I?" She gestured with the comb to Wren's hair.
The half-elf gave her an odd look, "If you want."

So Wren scrubbed her armor piece by piece while Marge worked out the knotted tendrils of wheaten blond section by section.

"Your friend," said the woman after a time of silence.
"What about him?"
"He's a handsome sort. Just a friend?"
Wren paused in her scrubbing, brow knitting, "It's complicated."
"I see," Marge replied, "yeh been travelin together long?"
"Long enough."
"Fixin to stay in Elbion for a time?"
At this Wren thought Marge was getting a little nosier than was wise, "Yeah, we're scoping out a place to settle down."
"Ahhh, well isn't that nice. Elbion is such a lovely place. I kin get you a word in with the Merchant Council, my brother's friends with a few and the local Baron Klayton is in well with the Foard of Maesters."
"Baron Klayton?" that sounded very familiar.
"Oh yes, nice fellow. He's a regular patron of the inn, just over in the men's side of the bath house actually."

Well well well.

 

[Rainer]

Rainer had closed his eyes to the sound of the breeze and the slow feed of the spring. The ambiance was soothing, the slosh of the water and the sound of sauna every time someone hit the coals with a splash of water. And the swing of bathhouse door...

Wet footsteps padded towards the spring and for the briefest moment, he thought it might have been Wren. But the gait was wrong. A bit longer, a bit less elegant, seemed to favor the ball of their toes as they rolled the whole foot with every step.

"Spring is nice, right?"

The sauna guy. Rainer opened his eyes and took a drink from the tankard. It was running towards empty now.

"It is."

The man didn't get into the water. Instead, he sat down on the slats and dipped his feet into water. Rainer scooted to the side a bit and eyed the man. "You...you getting in?"

"Oh no, I'm rotating. Hot and cold, hot and cold. I'll go back in in a bit. Really helps relax the muscles. Understand?"
"Yeah..." Rainer nodded, though he didn't really understand. He wasn't really sure the scrawny patron had all that many muscles to relax. But he seemed nice enough. Turning from the individual, Rainer breathed in and enjoyed the oncoming silence and ambiance.

 

[Wren]

"Yeh have nice hair," Marge said with a small smile as she ran the comb through it one last time, slicked back from her face, sleek and faintly golden under the light of the flickering sconces.

Unaccustomed to such ... feminine doting, Wren shifted slightly to a stand, pulling the last of her armor out of the tub and setting it off to the side, "Thanks. You said the Baron was next door?"

"Yes, well he was. He sort of goes back and forth between the springs and the sauna...let me check. Yeh wanted to speak to him?"

"Please."

Didn't take Marge long to glance outside from the doorway leading to the spring, "He's out here Miss."

"Thank you, and a fresh round of ale," and with that Wren grabbed the head presently bundled in a towel, cinched the towel presently covering her, and strode out to the springs with renewed purpose. She stepped out into the secluded area to find Rain off to the left side of the spring and the unknown man settled at the edge. If Wren was self conscious about the burn scars now plainly visible on her right lower leg, arm, shoulder, and face, she did not show it.

"Evening Baron," no humor in her expression, "I believe I have a present for you."

Most men probably would have assumed they were about to have a lively night, but Wren simply loosed the towel in her left hand and swung it so the head rolled across the ground, stopping just near the man.

 

[Rainer]

That head was becoming a bit of a staple at this Inn. Even as Marge barged in with a pitcher to fill up the various tankards, she didn't seem to be phased by it. Rainer understood that they were close to the college so things out of the norm were, well, quite normal. But the glee of surprise and the smug sense of accomplishment was sorely missed.

"Ah, you are my bounty hunters then?" The man replied as he stood up, walking quietly over to the Alukrah's severed head. Bending at the waist, he inspected with a modicum of distance and nodded. "Looks quite ghastly. This thing was causing all the trouble?"

"And then some..." Rainer replied as Marge knelt down, filling up his cup. Admittedly, he was starting to feel the affects of the beer. "Thank you, Dove..." That got a blush out of the woman as she returned a smile and headed over to Wren.

"Well, consider me convinced. I uh..." He mocked patting himself down. "Obviously do not have the reward on me. Would you mind if I provided it to the Innkeeper prior to heading home for the evening?"

"When would that be?" Rainer responded, taking a drink of the stout.
"Uhh, presently. Truth be told, the sight has turned my stomach."

Of course it had. "But the Innkeeper has charge of my valuables, which include your payment. Plus additional for...disposal." He said that list bit with a hint of zest.

"Terms seem amenable. What do you think?" Rainer looked towards Wren to see how she felt about the situation. It was her sword riding on an ounce of trust.