Open Chronicles Oh, So Many Grimy Streets

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Raul Renaut

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Were all city coins usually this sticky?

Raul had spent a sum total of two hours in Elbion when this particular revelation hit him. One in the outskirts, and the other in the city proper. Only now does he see that he much prefers the outskirts. In fact, the first indicator that the outskirts would've been an ideal place to stay and to get a lay of the land was what led him to pondering on the texture of coins in the first place.

Upon his entrance into the city, and a cursory wandering about to locate at least a few inns, boarding houses, and notice boards, he decided to do as any good bringer of faith should, so the teachings say. He walked away from the- relatively -clean mainstreet he'd trod alongside the hustle and bustle, and went seeking down a street that looked to be an origin of Elbion itself, worn and unkempt, with buildings that remained standing only at the behest of the Gods themselves. The residents of these shoddy lodgings gazed at him suspiciously, he knew. He could feel their eyes burn him from greasy windows and front stoops, to the beggars that glared openly as he walked by. It was only once he had walked past well over a dozen of the broken, battered, and destitute peoples, that he truly realized he had little in the way coin to spare off the cuff. He had pinched his pence in such a way that he had only the large coins he'd obtained over the last six months on his person, to be broken down slowly as he went, and then enough to pay for a loaf of bread and some bits of meat for the evening on top of that.

And so, throat full of guilt, and fingers circled firmly around the gems hanging on his necklace, he made his way out of the other end of the street, to an adjoining alley dotted occasionally with bright burning lampposts to combat the shadows cast by the tight buildings, and finally into the nearest building that seemed to market foods, ramshackle as it was. As least it didn't reek inside, between the soft smell of dirt from several root vegetables laid on a cloth on the floor, and the sweetness of bread wafting through the building from somewhere in the back.

The broad, oaken man behind the small counter crossed his arms as Raul entered, and gruffly asked of him, "What'll it be, Harle?"

"A loaf of bread, and a cut of cured meat oh, yea thick-" he replies, ignoring the association to a jester as he indicates thickness with the tip of his little finger, "-if you have it, and say, a sack of those potatoes your leg in weight. Two tens or so of carrots, and two heads of that leafy green on the table as well, please."

Apparently an unusual measure for the proprietor, considering the chuff he gives as he makes to collect the bread and meat.

"Feedin' an army?" he asks, as he sets down the bread and meat, and picks up a sack to bag potatoes in.

"Only some folks that are surely hungry. Do you break coin?"

The man acknowledges his question with a grunt that only leaves him with more to ask, and falls silent. So Raul preoccupies himself with looking aimlessly around the little shop, while a new layer of smell finds him; poorly brewed alcohol, burning his eyes the longer he waits. Old, rusted farming implements hang on the unused spaces of the battered walls, and the heavy beams running along the ceiling mirror the sturdiness of the proprietor. Raul toys with his necklace and looks through the smudged window, mulling, and only really turns to hear the man stocking his order when he clears his throat behind him.

"Loaf, meat, potatoes, carrots, and collards. I'll break your coins, if I can." the man growls out, and prices everything Raul wants.

"Zydaos and Ohtar bless you." he says swiftly, as he forks over the healthy sum required, followed by the quantity of coin he wants to break. He won't be starving, or sleeping on a bench, so long as he's able to keep up his work.

"Don't mention it, Harle." comes the reply as he deposits a heavy handful of small coins in his palm.

A heavy, sticky handful.
 
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Fritz Erlain

"Me? Dead Serious? Bullshit!"
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"Brrrr...very cold. Hmm, I need to get food from the market and then finish up my own buisness around here. Don't want to spend anymore time here than I have to..." he groaned, trudging down the watery streets from the storm last night.

Fritz approaches the storefront and notices a oddly colored man. Well, not an oddly colored man, but an oddly dressed one. "Shopkeep! You seem to be visited by more colorful characters every time I come to buy from you. Is this guy like some sort of circus person or..." and then he pauses, realizing exactly how awkward he must have made that guy feel.

The Shopkeep reminded him of the very extent of it. "Be quiet, Idiot, you'll scare away business. I'm sorry sir, Fritzy here is only seventeen, and has a lot to deal with, so keeping his mouth shut is not a skill he's very proficient in."

Shopkeep, That's the name I actually go by! Ugh, the consequences of immediately trying to be friendly has crashed around me. Now everyone knows my preferred name, I bet. He thought in quiet embarrassment.

"Umm, anyway, nevermind that. Sir, please call me Fritz...It's a bit more mature. How's the family?"

"One, you are not mature...It's pretty evident. Second, all is well. How's the business?"


"You knave! I guess you got me there." he laughed, putting coins on the table. "The usual lettuce, meat and bread please. Oh yeah, my mentor got a bad case of Basilisk poison when working one of their (the Basilisk's) fangs, but It didn't kill him. He's tough."

Raul Renaut (Sorry It's a bit short.)
 
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Raul Renaut

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Raul deposits the handful of coins into his purse, idly wondering how much lint will come with them as soon as he pulls a few out, when he hears the door open and close behind him. Not unusual in terms of shops, but what comes from the youthful-sounding man isn't something typical, even compared to the veiled references from the owner.

"Shopkeep! You seem to be visited by more colorful characters every time I come to buy from you. Is this guy like some sort of circus person or..."

City coins are sticky, and the mouths of city folk aren't terribly guarded.

He tamps down the irritated sensation brewing amongst his thoughts, as it does him no good to be bristled by youthful offhandedness. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he vaguely recalls being similar in his own midyears.

At least the proprietor of the shop had sense enough to scold the boy for talking thusly, while Raul moves his purchases closer to the door. Raul wouldn't call himself vindictive, but neither would he call the monks that chastised him as a youth vindictive, and they could certainly be a harsh bunch when dealing with the rowdier students.

Once he'd hefted the sack of potatoes next to the door, and vaguely listened to the back-and-forth between this young Fritz and the shopkeeper, he turns and fixes the lad with a look, mimicking as best he can the searing disappointment on the face of a teacher.

"Do all the young people in Elbion speak so freely?"

He walks firmly to the other sack, filled with the carrots and collards greens, and picks it up, keeping a level of eye contact with Fritz until he's no longer able to look at the boy while moving towards the door. He addresses the proprietor.

"I don't suppose he's done any harm, sir, but I cannot say it'll end as well if he makes such remarks towards a rougher sort."

After a moment, it finally soaks in that Fritz mentioned basilisk fangs. A creature he's only heard in tales. Nasty, dangerous, deadly tales. The sort you hear at night by candlelight, sitting up with the other boys in your long cell, determined to frighten each other.

"Did you say basilisk fangs?"

Fritz Erlain (OOC: No problem on short posts, and I like adding reactions, the sip was an indicator of interest)
 

Fritz Erlain

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"Why, yes. My mentor was recently poisoned by one. No worries though. A mage from this very place's college helped me with the cure and such. He's made no mistake since, and after he finished up, there were a lot of fang tipped clubs and swords, believe me."

"He kept two of them, but they were just lying around, so I took them to a woodworker and now we have a snake head over our door to the smithy." He said with a cheery grin.

"Pleasure to meet you! As you heard, my name is Fritzy...but I prefer Fritz. Your name is?" he asked jovially.

"Oh, and not all speak so freely, as they might get in trouble dealing with us "rabble" by saying something they don't actually end up regretting but say they do. When they do talk, it's very fancy and statements always begin with "Ah," or, "Objectively incorrect," or, "Worthless peasants," or maybe even if they're feeling unusually nice: "My good sir." before they publicly humiliate you. Nobles are snobs. There are exceptions though..."

"Sorry, I tend to ramble."

"Oh, wait." he said, finally noticing the jewelry and charms outfitting the man. "Are you some sort of monk? A holy man? What brings you to this sorry part of this beautiful city?" he said, which earned him a sharp cuff on the back of the head by the shopkeep.

"Hey! I was just joking!" he snipped back at the Shopkeep before turning back around.

"Sorry, don't mind my friend here. He's just a big lug. I guess that makes us kindred spirits, in a way." he said, earning himself a quick slap on the back as he laughed. "Anyway, I should be off to the "poor people area" now. Kendyl's probably waiting on me." he said, turning around to grin sneakily to himself.

Ooh, I bet I could get free music lessons from this guy. Wait, maybe he can teach me a martial art or something.

Raul Renaut
 
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Raul Renaut

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Why would anyone want a death trap hanging over their front door?

"That sounds dangerous."

Raul grabs his meat and bread, unnerved by the casual banter of Fritz while talking about a basilisk. He half-wonders if he'll ever meet any of the people carrying those befanged weapons, whilst the boy complains about wealthy merchants and nobility acting as they do; born stark, just as everyone else, and then given silver spoons as toys.

"Sorry, I tend to ramble."

Raul hums, absently tearing the loaf open on one side to make a pocket.

Suddenly, Fritz seems to have an epiphany, and Raul raises an eyebrow as he continues, shoulders tensed.

"Oh, wait. Are you some sort of monk? A holy man? What brings you to this sorry part of this beautiful city?"

Raul relaxes and nods slightly, despite the cuff the shopkeeper gives Fritz, and places the meat within the bread.

"Yes, I am a monk, from the monastery at Vinbagnys. I go where I must, help is needed everywhere." He pauses as he bows, palm on his chest. "I am Raul Renaut. Pleasure making your acquaintance."

The shopkeeper and the boy banter back and forth, and Raul carefully stows his meal in a pocket on his bag. The jovial to and fro intrigues him. Again he wonders about the freedoms of a city, and what that means for him during his visit.

"Anyway, I should be off to the 'poor people area' now. Kendyl's probably waiting on me."

Raul halts his train of thought immediately and tilts his head a bit, a better idea coming to mind.

"Where is your smithy located? If it isn't out of your way, would you help me carry these sacks to the alley just down road? I can pay you."

Fritz Erlain
 

Fritz Erlain

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Why would anyone want a death trap hanging over their front door?

"That sounds dangerous."

Raul grabs his meat and bread, unnerved by the casual banter of Fritz while talking about a basilisk. He half-wonders if he'll ever meet any of the people carrying those befanged weapons, whilst the boy complains about wealthy merchants and nobility acting as they do; born stark, just as everyone else, and then given silver spoons as toys.

"Sorry, I tend to ramble."

Raul hums, absently tearing the loaf open on one side to make a pocket.

Suddenly, Fritz seems to have an epiphany, and Raul raises an eyebrow as he continues, shoulders tensed.

"Oh, wait. Are you some sort of monk? A holy man? What brings you to this sorry part of this beautiful city?"

Raul relaxes and nods slightly, despite the cuff the shopkeeper gives Fritz, and places the meat within the bread.

"Yes, I am a monk, from the monastery at Vinbagnys. I go where I must, help is needed everywhere." He pauses as he bows, palm on his chest. "I am Raul Renaut. Pleasure making your acquaintance."

The shopkeeper and the boy banter back and forth, and Raul carefully stows his meal in a pocket on his bag. The jovial to and fro intrigues him. Again he wonders about the freedoms of a city, and what that means for him during his visit.

"Anyway, I should be off to the 'poor people area' now. Kendyl's probably waiting on me."

Raul halts his train of thought immediately and tilts his head a bit, a better idea coming to mind.

"Where is your smithy located? If it isn't out of your way, would you help me carry these sacks to the alley just down road? I can pay you."

Fritz Erlain
"Well, this depends on a multitude of factors. First, I know my neighborhood well, and that alley is dangerous, so It's going to be a bit pricey.

Two, I need you to make a promise not to leave me there if bandits arrive. On your GOD." he said seriously.

"I'm just joking!"

"Now, how much are you talking about?"

"Also, you aren't how I imagined a monk would look. Most of the monks you hear about these days kill stuff with their hands."

"Also, a big stick that they do Elbion College level physics question stunts with while also killing stuff."

"What do you mean, dangerous? Oh my god, you seem to misunderstand. There is no venom in the fangs.

"Although, if I could find a way drill a small hole in both fangs and during the night put in concentrated poison, which can only be operated on the inside, it would be a great deterrent."

"I bet I could probably find some anyway. Scorpion, maybe?"

"Also, It's a very funny name for a monastery. the name sounds like Vineybagness."
 
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Raul Renaut

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Baffled isn't even beginning to cover the sensation collecting behind his eyebrows uncomfortably, like a knot of brambles.

"Well, this depends on a multitude of factors. First, I know my neighborhood well, and that alley is dangerous, so It's going to be a bit pricey. Two, I need you to make a promise not to leave me there if bandits arrive. On your GOD." Said Fritz, sounding more conspiratorial to his ears than deathly serious. Nevertheless, an expression of worry lights on Raul's face, and he cuts in.

"Bandits?"

Even more distressingly, the boy continues with a simple, "I'm just joking!" followed by a swift, "Now, how much are you talking about?"

Is he always like this?

"Ah, oh, payment. Yes-" he responds, flustered, and fishes around in his purse. As he looks for less sticky coins, Fritz continues excitedly:

"Also, you aren't how I imagined a monk would look. Most of the monks you hear about these days kill stuff with their hands." followed with, "Also, a big stick that they do Elbion College level physics question stunts with while also killing stuff."

Raul stands there, eyebrows drawn together, uncomprehending of whomever or whatever Fritz is referencing. He slowly and carefully pulls out payment, worth a bit less than three days' wages in mixed coins; a handsome payment for carrying potatoes a few hundred feet. His voice comes out tinny, "Will this do?"

Monks killing what with their bare hands? Perhaps a quarterstave is a good weapon, but physics stunts?

"I... Have never seen one of my fellow monks do anything of the sort. What sort of spectacles does this city have?"

He stows the coins and moves to one of the sacks of vegetables, a deep frown creasing his forehead.

"Monks are, to my knowledge, simply part of a religious order, as nuns, or priests. I went to the monastery as a boy, and was taught in the ways of The Highest first, martial skills second, and then brewery, agriculture, and the other skills I need to survive. I was Espoused into monkhood, and was then at my choice released into the world as an advocate. I assumed most monasteries did the same..."

At Fritz's explanation of the snake head, he relaxes only slightly, and then gets increasingly more concerned at the boy's plans to add scorpion venom to the fangs.

"Again, that sounds dangerous. Don't envenom the fangs. Accidents do happen."

Raul lifts the bag of vegetables, throwing it over his shoulder, and makes to open the door, only to halt suddenly with his hand over the handle when Fritz speaks again. He feels a headache brewing under his hat.

"Also, It's a very funny name for a monastery. The name sounds like Vineybagness."

"What?"

Fritz Erlain OOC: Sorry for the delay, many things came up for me recently.
 

Raul Renaut

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With a bone-deep sigh and a shake of his head, Raul elects to not allow whatever else comes from the youth to bother him, and leads the way from the building.

There must be something in the air here. The smog of destruction and despair has brought madness.

The lad chatters on about his perception of monkhood, the names of monasteries he's heard before, and whatever else that comes to his mind, and Raul glides by most of it, answering questions only where he feels comfortable.

They arrive in the midst of the alley, attracting many skeptical eyes, and Raul pays Fritz his wage for carrying a sack.

"Waste not-" the lad shakes his hand and runs off with a departing word thrown over his shoulder, "-And don't buy scorpion poison!" Raul shouts after him.

He stares, silent, at the dust clouds billowing in Fritz' wake, before shaking his head and adjusting his necklace.

"My associates, please, gather... I have, in keeping with my teachings, brought food, and money to be shared, if you will partake..."

The destitute around him come ever slowly. Distrusting. Prideful. The critical looks they give him as they take a few potatoes, a carrot, some collard leaves, makes Raul's nostrils twitch in concealed irritation, as though their gaze rakes his hair backwards. Their low thank-yous abate his needless rise, however.

I am doing right, it matters not if some of them don't credit me. That isn't what my being here is for.

After some time, and a mild conversation with an older gentleman about the price of turnips in Oban, the sacks are emptied and the fistful of coins is divided, and the small crowd departs. He bids the old man farewell and collects the sacks, rolling them up and placing them in his pack, before moving on, deeper into Elbion.
 

Elias Dorven

Elbion Professor
Elbion College
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Elias made a point to walk the city at least once every other day. He felt it important to get a feel for the current state of Elbion and her people. If he were to aid in the reconstruction of the city, he'd first have to ensure he understood its most pressing needs.

On one such day, he heard of a small commotion in the streets. A man handing out food and coin to the destitute of the city. A generous act, to be sure, but he didn't recognize the individual responsible. A newcomer, perhaps?

He broke from his usual route, following news of the event until he saw the crowd, although he made sure not to join in with them. He needed no charity himself. When the opportunity presented itself he spoke up. "You're most generous! Elbion needs more of your sort."

Raul Renaut
 

Kaltain

Death's Handmaiden
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Kaltain watched from the shadows as the bustle of the slums surrounded her. This was one of her few times out by herself; her father finally conceding that the madness was starting to tame, and allowing her to explore the city he was in for business by herself.

Her large doe like eyes wandered however to the things that all these people couldn't see, the weeping spirits wailing after loved ones, and those of mischievous origins picking at peoples hair and pinching causing strange pains they couldn't identify. She shook her head her long dark hair swishing as she did so, this place was a place of great sadness to attract these sort of otherworldly visitors.

The dark circles under her eyes, were stark against her pale skin as she dared reach out to even touch one, to try and stop it before it plucked a hair out of a man giving...coins away? This raised Kaltain's eyebrows. She hadn't been around people much, yet her fathers whole career was based on the greed and hoarding of coins. She didn't believe people just gave such things away. In her curiosity she forgot she was attempting to grab someone.. or something no one else could see.

Embarrassed her other hand reached out to her wrist of her outstretched hand before grabbing it and holding her hand to her chest, the madness had overcome her again. Her large weary eyes darted around as the whispers soon filled her head once again; the begs and pleads for one last message to loved ones, the angry yowls for debts to be repaid and before she knew it or could stop it the madness sunk in again. The only difference is she was not in her room, safely tucked away from the prying eyes of others. This time she was in the streets as she sunk to the ground on her knees burying her fingers in her hair by her scalp, as the tears welled up in her eyes and she bit her lip until it bled trying to hold in her scream.

By all definitions Kaltain was having a breakdown. In the middle of the slums of Elbion.

Raul Renaut
Elias Dorven
Fritz Erlain

(OCC: Sorry this is all I could think of how to introduce a kinda crazy chick into the plot lol)
 

Al'qadim Zulfiqar

The Warden
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It had been some weeks since he had left Ragash and Stryfe walked the streets. Such carnage, such destruction. Though reconstruction had been going smoothly and the Second Sons were hard at work with the repairs, he could see the scars of the city. The pain and the loss in the eyes of the people.

It was that pain that led him to the slums. They had suffered the most and now died alone in droves and so, he set forth to better the lives of those he could.

And he wasn't alone. A man garbed in vibrant hues was already handing out bread in some alleyway, coins too. A generous soul who was now being praised by another soul.

He heard a young woman panic and drop into the street. Anguish, fear, pain, it all fashed over her features and so he moved to her side and crouched beside her. "My lady, are you alright?" He would ask as both hands gently took her hands from her hair in an effort to keep her from tearing her own hair out. "Listen to my voice, close your eyes, and breathe. In and out.. slowly." His youngest son had had such terrors after the fire.

If she looked at him, his eyes, his face, even his voice would be slightly familiar. Reminiscent of a young knight that had helped her in Alliria. Another thing she would notice is for whatever reason, the spirits feared him. They would try to escape his presence, by leaving hers.

Kaltain Raul Renaut Elias Dorven
 

Raul Renaut

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As he makes to leave, a voice behind him calls out, "You're most generous! Elbion needs more of your sort."

He pauses in his step, and turns to face the tan-robed man, palm to his chest as he bows in greeting.

"Good day, sir. I am merely doing what I have been bidden to do."

Raul gestures to indicate the rapidly dispersing crowd, a partially disguised expression of pride crossing his face. He doesn't notice the young lady walking towards him from behind, reaching out, as he addresses the older gentleman.

"They are in need, and I shall provide what I can, food and money and blessings of good will from The Highest."

He makes to introduce himself, when the ghostly sensation of being looked at- or looked through -hits him, and an accented voice speaks behind him.

"My lady, are you alright? Listen to my voice, close your eyes, and breathe. In and out.. slowly."

Raul looks over his shoulder, seeing the otherworldly horror on the young woman's face as she kneels in the middle of the street, and the broad back of a warrior crouching in front of her, attempting to soothe her suffering.

He turns, giving the older gentleman a gesture for him to wait a moment, before immediately striding over to lower himself to the ground behind the larger man. He clutches at his necklace and breathes a few soft words in a non-common tongue, before addressing the man with a quiet voice.

"What happened? Is she hurt?"

Elias Dorven Kaltain Stryfe Tal'deneshaar OOC: Bit of a short post, I wasn't expecting to get three replies so suddenly!
 

Elias Dorven

Elbion Professor
Elbion College
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"Good day, sir. I am merely doing what I have been bidden to do."

Elias smiled and returned the bow in the same manner. "Is that so?" His gaze shifted to a pale young woman closing in behind the man. At first he almost mistook her for a wraith or vampire. But upon a closer look, he ruled out the possibility of her being some manner of undead. Whatever else she might be, she was human.

He returned his attention to the stranger when he next spoke. "Yet some would ignore the call if it meant giving up their own possessions. You do your Gods great honor." His smile faded when the woman suddenly fell to her knees and started weeping.

Who was she? Merely a grieving woman, or perhaps she was mad? Elias strayed a bit closer to the scene, a man had come to console her by that point. He took a deep breath and called on his magic, causing his eyes to glow a bright gold color. He looked at the situation with new eyes.

He could see it, chaos, like he could the physical world. Like crimson flames dancing around the woman, but not coming from within her. Until, before his very eyes, they began to disperse, could the man have frightened them away? Curious.

The glow faded from his eyes, in its place came a stinging feeling, he winced, closing his eyes and rubbing them with one hand. It took a few seconds for the feeling to fade. It would appear he'd stumbled across another pair of strange individuals. He hoped that meant good things, rather than bad.

Raul Renaut Kaltain Stryfe Tal'deneshaar
 

Kaltain

Death's Handmaiden
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She felt her hands being moved from her head but the feeling of utter despair still ripped through her, she’d forgotten her dagger at home and the whole trip here she’d thought she’d been fine.

She sniffled a little as she looked at the scene she’d now created, as an older warrior looking man soothed her, another watched from a semi distance and well one was asking if she was hurt. As fast as the moment came it disappeared when the older man came. She turned to look at him, a face that was weirdly familiar but she couldn’t remember how or why.

„I’m all right..“ she’d say softly looking at the disgruntled crowd now forming around them. „My apologies…“ Her voice was haunting like she herself were a poltergeist sent to deceive you, it’d been that way her whole life although.

Trying to change the subject and grasp at any straws she could she‘d attempt to stand up before looking at the man handing out money. „A very kind thing to do indeed Sir, this place has more despair than you know.“ she said with a warm but knowing smile.

Raul Renaut
Elias Dorven
Stryfe Tal'deneshaar
 

Al'qadim Zulfiqar

The Warden
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As she began breathe and calm, a voice would sound behind him. First in prayer, then in a question. "Not all injuries are visible." The older warrior would say before those vibrant golden eyes refocused on the young woman.

"It gladdens me to hear that." He would muse gently as he helped her back to her feet, his hands withdrawing before resting on his belt. "No need to apologize."

His gaze would shift to those others that began to mill about them, his voice raising so they could all hear. "Nothing to see here, so disperse." He would bark it out as a command and sure enough the people began to depart, not wanting to incur the warriors wrath.

His gaze would then flit about to see if he could identify what had been harassing the young lady. So, he kept vigil while her, Raul, and Elias could finish their talk.

Kaltain Raul Renaut Elias Dorven
 

Raul Renaut

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"Not all injuries are visible." says the warrior, with well-tempered concern.

Ah.

„I’m all right..“ comes her haunted response, sending a quake through Raul's heart, and the warrior soothes her as he brings her to her feet, sends away the ogling crowd. Raul rises as well, and offers, for lack of anything worthful, a clean square of cloth from his pack to her.

"I see, and I am glad to hear you are alright, my lady. Please, call out if I am needed, I won't be far."

He turns and rejoins the older gentleman, a haze of newly bred confusion clouding his mind, as the smog. Had his ridiculous summations been correct, or had he only made himself aware of something already happening around him? The cause of true ill forces, or a city-wide suffering of Soldier's Sorrow that he'd incidentally chosen to avoid, like the fool he is.

In his absorption, he forgets momentarily that he is standing in front of the gentleman. Lips moving in silent prayer, staring off somewhere between Oban and Kiva as though a mounted stag's head, glass-eyed.

When he finally catches up to himself, his sight hones in on the older gentleman, and an ashamed flush rises on his face.

"My apologies, sir. I'm not sure what caught me. I am Raul Renaut, a monk and advocate. May I learn of you?"

Elias Dorven Kaltain Stryfe Tal'deneshaar (Hurrah, my muse! Cross thy fingers I won't have anything to edit after I get some sleep.)
 
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Elias Dorven

Elbion Professor
Elbion College
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Elias kept one eye on the woman and the stranger who'd come to help her. The situation appeared to have calmed for the moment, but how peculiar. Both looked to be unique, albeit in different ways. He'd have to speak to them and see if he could find out exactly how.

Still, he kept his attention on the newcomer, Raul. He smiled and set a hand on his heart. "Of course, I am Elias Dorven, a Professor of the College of Elbion. It's an honor to meet you. What brings you to the city?" He already had a feeling he'd come for altruistic reasons, judging by his behavior. But perhaps there was a reason he chose Elbion specifically.

Raul Renaut Stryfe Tal'deneshaar Kaltain
 
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Kaltain

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She smiled warmly but embarrassed, "I thank you for such aide." she'd tell the men who'd surrounded her. She nodded as the fancy dressed one made way to speak to the other man that watched the events unfold.

She'd looked to the older gentleman, "My apologies, a friend had given me an item to help prevent against such outbursts, I suffer from an illness of sorts." she'd say quietly, she wasn't whispering she herself it would seem was just a rather demure woman. "I am Kaltain, Daughter of the Merchant Mayfield, and you are kind Ser?" She'd ask the older man who had assisted her. She found it rather odd that a warrior with the same eyes of the first knight had come to her rescue had now done the same, even uttering similar words. How peculiar?

Elias Dorven
Raul Renaut
Al'qadim Zulfiqar
 
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Al'qadim Zulfiqar

The Warden
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The aged warrior would nod his thanks to the other gentlemen that had helped with the unfortunate event. With the crowd dispersed and the young woman alright, he would relax some.

Something he did note, was that there were some thoughts behind the young woman's eyes. "I am no Ser. In your tongue, my name is Zulfiqar Al'qadim. I am a mercenary that has reached hopefully the end of the line. You are well met Kaltain Mayfield. Do you need help finding where your father is?"

Kaltain Raul Renaut Elias Dorven
 

Raul Renaut

Advocate for Religion
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"Of course, I am Elias Dorven, a Professor of the College of Elbion. It's an honor to meet you. What brings you to the city?" the gentleman replies.

"It is an honour to meet you as well. I needed somewhere to stay while going West. I thought surely there would be plenty of help wanted in the city. I was more right than I had expected..." He glances over his shoulder again.

In that short second, his ear catching "Mayfield" and "Zulfiqar" from the others, Dorven gasps. Raul turns back quickly, eyes wide. The professor smiles and holds up his hand placatingly.

"It is nothing, simply a lesson I must give as soon as I finish my walk of the city. I wish you a good day and safe travels, and thank you again for what you are doing." He places his palm over his heart again and bows slightly.

"Ah. Safe travels, sir." He gives a bow in return to the man, watching silently as he walks away.

I aught to have asked where I might find him.

He shakes of his head firmly, readjusting his chaperon, and inhales slowly. Then turns around with a calm expression worked onto his face.

"Is there anything I may do for either of you?"

Kaltain Al'qadim Zulfiqar (Goodbye, Pen Name, we miss you, and will welcome you should you return.)
 
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Qiven had been searching for a place to sleep in this town for hours. He knew that he could, at any point, sleep on the floor or in some fleabitten bunkhouse, but he had been sleeping like that for months. The beds of moss from his home village were far more inviting that termite-infested wooden planks, or bedbug-ravaged straw rushes, or cobblestone alleys so cold that it penetrated his fur and froze his bones. He was tired. He was tired and he needed somewhere marginally nicer to stay tonight.

The wealthier parts of town would give him no quarter-- he was odd and untrustworthy to them. That happens when you are eight feet tall, filthy, and quite foreign. The middling parts of town were a little more open, but they tossed only enough coin to him to fill his belly for the night. The last ditch he had was hoping he could earn a spot to sleep here, in the poorer parts of the city, as the less fortunate quite fortunately were not ones to judge. Perhaps he would not get coin for somewhere nice, but maybe, he thought, he could earn a spot in someone's hovel for a night, get himself bathed, and get a nice spot of sleep. That was the hope, anyway. So far in his search, it looked like cobblestone would be his bed tonight.

As he passed through the streets, Qiven spotted a crowd that was slowly dispersing. Using his height, he peered over the crowd to find out what it was about. A man had been giving out food and coin. The man was colorfully dressed in a garb that looked quite comfortable. Ah, a man of good taste... Qiven began his approach to the man, hoping he could win himself a prize from such a generous soul. Whether that be food, quarter, coin or friendship, that wasn't his concern. No matter the result, it would be a gift.

He stood in front of Raul Renaut, hunching his shoulders and bending his knees some to make his height just a little less of a spectacle. Qiven was not at his most presentable. The original color of his ruffled silk shirt was hard to discern, as it was grey-brown from filth now. His copper hair, greased from such long travel without a bath, was braided back and weaved with flowers to disguise the oiliness. The lute strapped to his back was in relatively good shape, actually, save for a string that had snapped and sprung off wildly, swaying as he moved.

Qiven smiled awkwardly, fangs flashing. Summoning what limited knowledge of the Common language he had, he spoke-- accent smooth, thick, and sweet like molasses: "Good after-noon! What goodness you bring!"
 
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