Fate - First Reply Andromeda

[Rinvië]

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.

 

[Vulpesen]

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."

 

[Rinvië]

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 ​

 

[Vulpesen]

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

 

[Rinvië]

"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?"

---

Vulpesen ​

 

[Vulpesen]

"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.

 

[Rinvië]

"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 ​

 

[Vulpesen]

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

 

[Rinvië]

"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.

---

Vulpesen ​

 

[Vulpesen]

"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

 

[Rinvië]

She smiled at the sentiment. But in these lands, victory was usually, at best, pyric. Much blood had been spilt. And yet, they persisted, and now they did so in the company of friends.

Perhaps not all victories were so blatant in their fruits.

"To be fair, though I can wield a blade like all my people, I am no soldier. I tend to the swords of others, and forge them new ones."

She was what many simply called a crafter, but one of no small regard. Though likely unknown to her companion, the title she held was one of prestige.

"In battle, many of my kind are far more skilled than I. Perhaps when this is all over, my people and I will turn our talents to your aid."

---

Vulpesen ​

 

[Vulpesen]

Vulpesen's tail flicked towards the hilt of his sword as Rinvië mentioned her talents. He'd never been one for the forge, but like all Zorrens, he admired a well crafted weapon. Whats more, Elven work was some of the finest, rivalling even his own people and certainly surpassing them in anything that wasn't meant to defend or assault. "A soldier without a trustworthy weapon is nothing more than raven fodder. I'd say a good smith is worth ten men on the line."

Her offer of aid, while tentative caused his ears to flick and he offered a fanged grin over his cup. "And perhaps my people will make the crossing early to bring our talents to yours." It wouldn't be a difficult proposition to either side of his allegiance. Fae or Mortal, the heads of the Vitae believed in just causes. Already there was talk of a march and a building dock to do just as he suggested. And perhaps a mortal conflict was what they needed to prepare for the dangers that they would soon face on behalf of the courts.

 

[Rinvië]

"Most of my kind would tell you that the Aerai forge the finest steel in the land," she leaned forward with a rather mirthful smile, "I can tell you that its maybe the finest in the eastern Falwood."

She spoke humbly, and yea, the talents of even she in these modern days was in her own opinion lacking compared to those who came before. But even still, Aerai craftsmanship was indeed quite something, with a particular scrutiny upon quality. It was exactly as Vulpesen said - a soldier without a trustworthy weapon was nothing more than raven fodder.

If she were to have her way, then none of her people would be labeled as such. Perhaps that is why he put such value in those such as she.

"Me and my ilk would be honoured to craft gifts for yours, should they make such a crossing." She did not fully understand what he meant by such mentions, but as they conversed, she began to gain a subtle understanding.

Another round of drinks came and went, and she asked, "so tell me, Vulpesen Torrevaso of Veradune, what would you say to a tour? My forge is some ways away, on the fourth of Sharyrdaes' tiers... but the view of the city from there is splendid."

 

[Vulpesen]

Fine drink and pleasant company, over time, had brought a pleasurable buzz to his head and Vulpesen could only thank decades of experience for his ability to process the elven woman's words as fast as he might have sober. Though while his tail seemed to sway in discord with the movement of his body, his eyes seemed to pierce their own haze as they swept the room. "I would say that sounds splendid," his fanged grin showed his mirth as he slipped out of his stool to stand smoothly. "I'd love to see your forge. And I never pass up a chance to witness the beauty of a new place."

His fingers waved a small sigil at his side and he offered a mental prayer to Wulren. The buzz was certainly nice and all, but it was a state only fit for the safety of home or the crowd of a bar. He winced slightly as some of the cloud lifted from his mind, leaving behind a dull ache. Still, he left a small touch of his inebriation behind. He'd learned the hard way that magical sobering had no shortage of drawbacks if done all at once. "Lead the way Miss Rinvië, smith of Sharyrdaes."

 

[Rinvië]

Rinvië smiled, and stood as he did. She had grown somewhat tired of the noises in the tavern. While she enjoyed the company, and the relative joy that was in the air, she was more than ready to depart from there and enjoy some much more peaceful company. And so, after allowing him the time to carry out his small ritual, at his word she inclined her head and then led him outside.

Stepping down into the street, she took only a moment to look one way before carrying on down the other, on into the plaza nearby. It was relatively quiet in the city this evening. There weren't many non-combatants around, and even they were relatively sparse, either gathered here and there or patrolling the streets either on a beat or in rank and file.

The weight of the surrounding war pressed hard on this place, but despite the tension, there was still some measure of ease. Sharyrdaes was a well guarded city, and there was little immediate concern or fear of trouble. That would all be perceived well in advance.

So as they walked on through the plaza and onto the main street which led further up into Sharyrdaes, she shared some casual conversation with him, mentioning one thing about the city to another, from is alleged age to the significance it held to their people as a whole.

After some time, ascending on up onto the fourth tier of the city, they came to a large building. It almost resembled a cathedral, far grander and ornate than some simple smithy. Its large doors were swung open, where great luminescence poured out from within.

"This is what we call the Shorai'tamin, our great forge."

---

Vulpesen ​

 

[Vulpesen]

Not for the first time, Vulpesen's gaze swept over the city, taking in its fortifications with the practiced ease of a scout commander. Fortifications and troops numbers rattled around his head, though there would be no report on such things. For him, it was simply a matter of habit.

As they reached the smithy, Vulpesen let out a low whistle, his golden eyes taking in the luminance from the wide doors of this basilica of artifice. "You certainly aren't exaggerating when you say great." His ears flicked, flinching away from the crash of steel as hammers collided with anvils. "How many smiths do you have here?" he asked as a matter of curiosity. Stepping through the doors, he acclimated himself to the noise, shutting out the pain from its sudden arrival.

Rinvië

 

[Rinvië]

Stepping in, the smithy did not appear quite like those of other places. In many ways, it resembled some kind of temple, much as it had from the outside. Where Vulpesen and she had entered into, they stepped out onto a raised walkway which cut down the center of the structure, with only a couple steps down onto an even level on either side. In fact, in this way, it mirrored the Temple Shorai precisely.

However, at the far end, instead of a great, stone image of Astra, there was a set of rounding stairs to a circular pinnacle that married against the far wall. At the far end of that, a great, crystalline structure, which appeared as a massive inset gemstone with web-like veins that reached out from its place. Smaller semblances of this were inlaid upon the walls upon either side, and near them were grand workstations, and set into the walls beneath these crystals were the fires of their forge.

The fires burned blue.

"We have just over a dozen who could be called masters of their craft, but..." she gestured to rather large corridors, one leading one way, and then one leading another, "there are many others who are quite skilled as well." Well over a hundred.

"That, however," she gestured to the far end, atop the rounding stairs, "is where I work. Come, let me show you..."

---

Vulpesen ​