Fable - Ask A Night in Vel Anir

[Nerren Harclaw]

Spoiler: Music IC

It was another rainy night in the city of Vel Anir. Under the darkness, the denizens of the streets walked to and fro, rode on horseback or in wagon, gathered together in their homes or even lingered under garden alcoves to escape the rain. For one person in particular, a visitor rather than a citizen, the tavern was a far better fit for her purposes.

“I’ll have you yet, longshanks!” Nerren Harclaw laughed as she laid down her hand of cards on the tabletop. The suits and ranks proved to be too much for her counterpart. She matched his hardly masked anger with a wicked grin and took a hearty sip of ale from her tankard.

“I can’t believe it!” Her fellow patron pounded his fist, making the plate of bread, meat and cheese bounce. “You’re naught but a chea—”

“Ah-ah.” At that, Nerren pounced, quicker than he could finish his sentence, and slammed the tip of her dagger into the wedge of cheese between the center deck of cards and his heart. “If I let your tongue say further words in regards to my character then, eheh…” She licked her lips. “I’ll have to take it, mate.”

He went quiet. Eyes into eyes. Then, taking whatever was left of his dignity and purse, he left her company, leaving an open seat. It was one in a dwindling number when it came to this tavern. The Clever Squire was as busy as one could expect for a rainy evening.

Left alone in her corner seat for the moment, Nerren elected to sip her drink, eat her dinner and listen to the live musicians at another corner. They were good enough with string and drum and, as word had it, invited other musicians to come on up if they wished.

She didn’t. Her fingers were best kept for the blades at her hips, sword or axe or dagger, amid her blue brown outfit of leather garment, fur cloak and armor. The Nordenfiir warrior was ready for more than one dumb drunken patron who didn’t like to lose. She hoped she didn’t need to be though.

Ispir Sione

 

[Ispir Sione]

As Ispir came in from the rain he would fluff out his traveling cloak, almost completely soaked, and would remove his cap long enough to shake it out and use some simple prestidigitations to dry his clothes before truly stepping foot inside. A considerate nature that earned him a thankful nod from the bartender and staff. Ispir would smile, nod back, and inquire about playing at the establishment but to his surprise they were already full up on performers for the night!

Humming in consideration and suddenly finding himself with a free evening when he had expected to be playing Ispir would look around the Clever Squire and scout out the prospective tables. One saw a middle-aged man dressed in scholar's robes reading a book by candlelight while setting up a series of arcane scrolls that covered the entire table. Best to leave them to it. Another table had three women in bronze armor arm-wrestling and Ispir stopped to watch until a victor was declared but then they began to kiss so he awkwardly averted his gaze to elsewhere.

Clearing his throat Ispir would spy a seat free up, some cards, and would smile. Now seemed an excellent time to learn how to play and so Nerren would note a small bard, pep in his step, climb into the chair the man had vacated a few moments ago and wiggle comfortably into place.

"Hiya! Umm.... are we still playing cards?"

Nerren Harclaw​

 

[Nerren Harclaw]

Nerren had a direct line of sight to the tavern’s entrance as much as the musicians. Her view was broken though as someone approached. She met his gaze, her face straight as an arrow while he smiled, and didn’t know whether his was that of a man or a boy. He could have been in his early twenties as much as fifteen. He simply seemed…small.

Between their shared walls, the tavern was alive with revelry, drinking and feasting, singing and dancing. Drunkards would fall, servers would evade crude conversation and rude gestures or even lean into them, with no guards in the establishment except for anyone’s hired bodyguard, and the fire roared. Then there was Nerren with her sword and cards.

“We are.” She blinked, looking between this curious contraption in the seat and his garments. He might have had the heart of a bard but he needed a different kind of mind for this game if he wanted to survive. Seems to have the funds at least.

“As soon as you pay.” Sipping her ale, she gestured toward the center of the table where her own silver coin rested beside the deck of cards. “We play for keeps.” She grinned something mischievous; a stark contrast to this pep-in-his-step patron’s lips. “And this game isn’t free.”

Ispir Sione

 

[Ispir Sione]

Ispir would adjust his travelling cloak and cap, looking from Nerren Harclaw with her critical eye and curious look, to the man on her left in some sort of sailor's outfit, a scar over his eye and blade at his hip, and the dwarf to her right in mail. Twin axes at his hips and a pipe in his lips. They looked just like storybook characters! Ispir, still beaming, blinked up at Nerren as she blinked at him, and nodded along with her words as she grinned. He would let out a low noise.

"Oooooh."

As if he understood.

He did not.

"What if umm... I just want to learn how to play?"

This was met with a widening of the eyes from the dwarf and a rough snort from the sailor. The sailor would guffaw, the dwarf would take a deep puff of his pipe, laughter stifled by the smoke flaring from his nose like a great, fire-breathing dragon. Some of the excess soot collecting in his moustache and beard before he tapped the pipe clean in a small tray and packed it with more tobacco. The sailor simply rolled his eyes while the dwarf would respond gruffly.

"Then ye might be at the wrong table young master."

Ispir, mistaking the dwarf's meaning, would look around at the three of them in understanding.

"Oh...... Are you all new at the game too?"​

 

[Nerren Harclaw]

Nerren blinked. For a moment, she was sure that this man who had since taken his seat at her table (of which, while it wasn’t hers because she didn’t own this tavern, was hers) in turn knew the name of the game and how to play. However, perhaps he was as clueless as a newborn baby. Certainly has the face fit for it.

Nerren shifted her vision between her contemporaries. The dwarf to her right, with twin axes at his hips and a pipe in his lips, sighed at first like this newcomer had just asked whether he had entered a tavern. The half-elf at Nerren’s left was no less expressive amid stifled laughter, sighs, scoffs and guffaws.

Nerren was silent and still, however, as she simply watched and listened. Sailor on her left with sword. Warrior on her right with axe. Her? She was a sailor and a warrior, of course, and had sword and axe both.

“No,” she spoke. “Though I don’t know them and they don’t know me,” she offered freely, slipping a sliver of cheese between her teeth, speaking while eating. “Human-elf is Jory,” she introduced. Jory sat forward sliding a stone over his dagger, clearly enjoying the scrape against the blade. “Dwarf is Taz.” Taz sat back, pipe in hand, blowing smoke in a certain direction as if he wondered whether it would make their guest choke.

“I’m Nerren,” she finished. “And who are you?” Licking cheese crumbs from her lips, she lifted her tankard but didn’t sip. “What’s your name, little one, and why do you want to learn how to play this game with the likes of us?”

Ispir Sione

 

[Ispir Sione]

Ispir would cough a bit as Taz's pipe smoke assaulted their lungs and waved the air with their cap, keeping a bright smile though he did lean down to his things to retrieve a small, glowing gem. A gem he affixed to the ribbon that bound his travel cloak and the minor enchantment on the gem created a gentle bubble of fresh air around his head. At Nerren asking him for his name Ispir would nod.

"I'm Ispir!"

He would chirp, happy as a sparrow in the treetops, and so naively happy on this stormy night it had to be a con.... right?

"Umm as for learning how to play I'm a Bard! It's my job to be an entertainer and lots of people like card games."

Casting a glance at the stage Ispir would then nod, turn back to Nerren, and the uncannily pretty man before her would meet her eyes with storybook innocence.

"Plus the stage is already taken for the night so I thought it might be fun!"

Jory seemed to be losing interest aside from giving the small Bard glances that indicated he only saw the cerulean musician as a mark. Taz looked, perhaps, a bit more thoughtful. The stoic dwarf's attention largely on Nerren and her reaction as he puffed away at his pipe.

Nerren Harclaw​