Open Chronicles Stress Relief

[Aeyliea]

Night in Alliria.

She had just about had enough of this particular assignment. It didn't matter that she herself was the one that had issued the task; all of the others were off working other jobs. This one paid the most out of the current lot despite the simplicity of the contract. Escort missions tended to be either very tedious or very simplistic, and in this case it was the latter of the two. The white-haired woman glared moodily across the room at her patron, who was busily negotiating some kind of deal or another with some brute of a man seated across from him.

Merchants, she decided, were not the worst to deal with - that honor belonged to nobles, particularly those from important Houses - but they were a close damned second. Wealthy merchants could sometimes be worse, if their ego was to grand or their purse too deep. She blessedly did not deal with the caravan business at all, unlike many other companies such as hers. She was far more specialized in the services she offered, and charged much more for those services than simple caravan work.

Tonight, her charge was the merchant wheedling with the big brute. She had no idea what either party was selling or buying, and had no desire to. All she knew was her client was deathly terrified that someone might try to kill him over past business dealings.

And giving their surroundings, it was...plausible.

The Shallows were at best a deplorable pit of vice and villainy the likes of which she had only ever seen in the cities. There were many reasons she despised the people of so-called civilization, but a place like this exemplified so much of what was wrong. Greed, laziness, and a complete an utter lack of moral compass defined many of the patrons of this dive. it was a place where even residents of the slums and the shallows did not let their guard down. Until they were drunk, at least.

More shouting and yelling from the man across from the merchant, who stoically sat his ground and said nothing.

The sooner this night ended, the better. She knew as soon as she was done babysitting her charge, she would likely be back here to drink some of the profit away, and depending on how wild things got, probably catch and drag some unsuspecting piece of meat home for a good ol' fashioned roll under the blankets. Life for a warrior was too short to be cautious all the time, and she liked to get her pleasure where she could. Which was certainly not here, leaning against a wall in some smoky, foul smelling common room.

At least she was getting some attention from some of the locals. Aeyliea was a well made woman, and she bloody well knew it. She practically preened under male attention, which she gathered about her like a cult following simply by allowing enough flesh to show to hint. Normally, anyway. On the job, it was light leather and chain, soft enough not to chaff but protection enough to slow a blade. She was a well muscled, sculpted masterpiece with a finely honed face, high cheekbones, and eyes so deeply blue that they were nearly grey, like mountains viewed from afar. Her proportions were delightful.

And she knew it. And it had a tendency to make her insufferable, a trait already largely enhanced by a decided no-nonsense approach to life.

She stretched, grinning inwardly at the sparsely occupied tables and the attention it garnered her, and then went back to watching the dog and pony show, the barest hint of irritation displayed on her face.

 

[Grayhorn]

The big buildings place was noisy. What did the humans call them again? Oh right. Cities. They were welcoming places. Grayhorn had never been to this one before. Owl-eerie-awe. Yes that was it. Owleerieawe all together like they were the same word. When he had first arrived covered from head to toe in mud, it had been hot and he needed to cool off, the ones in the shiny tunics of iron with buckets on their heads told him where to go. That was nice of them. He didn't know his way around so directions to where he could go was helpful.

The place Grayhorn was told to go to, repeatedly, was called the Shallows. It was an odd name. He had expected buildings in water but none of them were in the water. Humans were silly creatures, but nice ones. As he had walked down the street many of them had thrown food to him. Rotting fruits, rotting cabbages, spoiled eggs. It would have been a feast if they had not been so enthusiastic and thrown them too hard. All of them ended up breaking on his body near his head. Maybe they were trying to do him a favor and put them in his mouth for him? How considerate.

Covered in mud and rotting food, Grayhorn walked inside of a tavern. The local people were rowdy originally but got quiet when he stepped in. He was having to crouch though because the roof was not really high enough for him. Perhaps they did not see many of his kind? That was always an issue with Grampa's humans. They were always half the height, although rather stocky, when compared to traveling humans from this place. He just gave them a big, tooth filled smile like the kind the furry things called dogs always gave him when he came close. Perhaps he should give them the noise as well? Yes he should. Humans loved dogs.

Grayhorn stood there with his teeth bared, covered in mud and rotting food, and growling at all of those inside the tavern. The bartender eventually yelled at him to stop and to stop blocking the doorway, so the komodi did. He found his way to a spot in the back, the humans were kind enough to make room for him although they did have to spit real badly as he past, and sat down at a table there. No one came to serve him so he just patiently waited.

Aeyliea

 

[Amalia Rosethorn]

Another night, another job. As the situation with Germaine and the shapeshifter wrapped up, she was on a success high. Amalia Rosethorn was now in this horrid place known as The Shallows ruining her best shoes just to get another weighted sack of crowns dropped into her palm. She was warned that she would be faced with other mercenaries for they were meant to protect these scummy merchants. That didn't bother the cryomancer. All who stood in her way now wish they hadn't.

She found herself walking in the tavern behind Grayhorn, who she could barely stand the smell of. The lithe, elegantly armored woman got some looks when she came into the place. Mostly because she was dressed out of turn.

She was dressed rich.

And there were many already whispering about her. Likely aiming to try and take whatever coin she had on her. She couldn't care less. Her eyes whipped immediately to the merchant who was making a sale with another patron of this tavern. A smirk formed over her face.

She'd found her target already.

Yet, it still was going to be problematic. As Aeyliea sat near him, her eyes wandering to anyone who may prove dangerous. Which would be a lot in this place. As Amalia's eyes met Aeyliea's, she smiled at the sellsword and took a seat three tables away, refusing to break eye contact with the white-haired warrior.

 

[Aeyliea]

She paid little heed to the Komodo that came in, although the bastard did smell mightily. Wasn't the first time she had seen their kind, and wouldn't be the last; she found their simplicity refreshing, among the people of the cities. It was, if not unsurprising, refreshing to see that there were some things the cities could not corrupt. The Komodi tended to be the same whether they were out in the open plains or on city streets.

Of course, others in the tavern took greater notice of the large brute. There were some things it just wasn't worth meddling with, and the lizardmen were certainly on the list of things to avoid.

It was the woman in the finery that drew her attention. She reeked of the greed implicit in the dwellers of this place, and the smirk on her face when her eyes fell on the Captain's client, well, that was a rookie slip-up. Aeyliea did not look directly at the woman without making it seem that she was not looking at her. She had been at her work long enough to know not to give any tells until you were ready to do something, and she was not ready to do anything yet.

So. Trouble then. When was the last time she had beat someone senseless? It had been a fair bit, likely a brawl in some similar establishment as this. Every now and again, though, it was entertaining for her to try to do just that with an opponent that was trying to kill her.

She looked towards Amalia, then, and deliberately looked her up and down. The intended effect was probably not what the other woman would have expected, as the savanna horsewarrior lingered a bit longer on the woman's bosom and hips, and when she met her eyes, it was with the warm light of invitation in them. It would not matter, to her, if the woman swung that way or not - Aeyliea did not, truth to tell - but it would be a confusing message when she likely expected that she, an obvious mercenary, would want to fight her.

Not something else that started with f. Keeping a potential threat off balance was a winning tactic, in her mind.