And so the story begins...
It is a chilly night in Hochoch under a starry sky, but the fire blazes brightly in the fireplace of the common room of the Tower. The Tower is one of the best inns in Hochoch, not cheap, but it has the finest beer and ales. For this reason, it is favoured by travellers and adventurers. Hochoch, you know, lies in the northwestern corner of the Kingdom of Keoland, astride the major trade road that links the Grand Duchy of Geoff to the southwest with the Gran March to the northeast. This road runs through an extension of the Dim Forest, and was only built less than a decade ago. Dreadful creatures are rumoured to live within the forest, and travellers along the road have to be prepared to fend off attacks by raiding humanoids. For one reason or another, the inn is busy this Freeday night. There is a table of mercenaries drinking heavily in a corner, while several clerics from the local temple of Trithereon sip mead and wine nearby. At another, a group of merchants or traders talk business over dinner. There are a number of individuals in here, as well. Scattered about, here and there, are a dwarf, several men, a couple of elves, and two lady half-elves. One of them is you... Suddenly the door into the common room is flung open with a bang, and the place goes quiet as every looks to the source of the commotion. Standing in the doorway is a man, grossly overweight with dark, greasy hair and an unshaven face. His leather shirt is stained and does not even begin to fit him. His oversized belly hangs out below his shirt and above his grubby pants, revealing his belly button for all of you to see and admire. "Fingus the Bard am I!" he exclaims, revealing a mouth mostly devoid of teeth. "I have great tidings for ye all!" He pauses to wipe his runny nose on his sleeve. "But ye'll have to feed me an' get me drunk, first!" One of those Half-Elven ladies is sitting near the kitchen with a soup bowl and half a biscuit as her meal. There is no mug for ale, wine, or water next to her. She sits quietly occasionally scanning the crowd as if looking for someone. By her dress, she is clearly an adventurer. She's wearing leather breeches, rather than a dress, and a light-colored, man's shirt although she is wearing a nicely crafted bodice over it. She has her leather armor; the boiled, hard-leather curaiss formed for her female torso is sitting on the bench at her right side. On her left side is a travelers pack with a sheaf of arrows (possibly a score) across it. There is no sign of a bow, however. The only weapon that is visible is a longsword in its scabbard that is propped up against the table at her left side. Another half-elven female dressed in travelling leathers looks up and rolls her eyes at this vulgar human who has dared to interrupt her peace and quiet. She wears travelling leathers, has no visible weapons, two small pouches are attached to her belt. She wears three earrings, two in one ear - all have feathers of some type attached. She also has a few feathers attached to small braids in her long dark hair. She could be very attractive but her rough appearance makes it difficult for any males to determine. She returns to her book and glass of wine. A small figure sits alone in the corner wearing a cloak of midnight blue and black. As if painted in that position it's eye's are the only part of it's body that move. Even as the door slams open the figure sits infinitely studying the crowd. An exceedingly ugly dwarf, is sitting alone at a table far from the fire. He is wearing splint mail under a well-traveled cloak. A shield is leaning against the left side of his chair and a war hammer rests against the right. Propped against the wall next to him is a backpack and bedroll, with some minor mining implements attached. On the table in front of him sits a helmet, a bowl of stew and a large tankard of mead. Those who wander near him, and perhaps not-so-near, can detect an unpleasant odor. His right hand slowly moves toward the war hammer resting against his chair. Although he casts an occasional eye to the dark corners of the room, most of his attention now shifts to the mercenaries. A tall man with broad shoulders and a pretty smile, stands up. His blonde hair is shoulder length and he has sparkling green eyes. He is wearing chainmail and a longsword is on his left hip. A few knives are scattered on his belt. "It is customary to earn your supper, even when you have great tidings. Tell a satisfactory tale and I will gladly chip in for your meal. If a glass of ale is what you require to loosen your tongue, let my silver pay for the first one." The man places two silver on the table in front of him. "Innkeeper, a glass of ale for Fingue the Bard." "The name's FinGUS!" he replies, but he takes the ale. "My apologies, Fingus the Bard. I am Tragon the Faithful." "Faithful? I've heard THAT one before!" he wisecracks between gulps of beer, with a grin. A slim female figure rises from one of the darker corners of the room and moves across to where Fingus and the chainwearing man are. Though cloaked in dark clothing, the beautiful young woman is obviously elven. Her long pale golden hair flows over the back of her cloak and her violet eyes seemingly pierce through the shadows of the bar. A closer inspection reveals that she is wearing leather armor, wears a shortsword at her side, and has several daggers tucked in about her waist. Arriving at the table, she looks closely at the two men briefly and says, "I'll gladly pay for the bard's meal up front." She then looks at the bard directly and grins, "It had better be a good one though." "Aye, it shall, be, O-fair elf maiden of Geoff!" he exclaims, and you hear his stomach grumble. The other Half-Elven lady shows no interest in the toothless story-teller after he mentions his price. She goes back to savoring her lukewarm meal. Her attention perks up again as the elven woman offers to pay up for the bard to eat. She idly dips her remaining bit of biscuit in her soup and sucks the liquid mush from the dry bits as she listens to what he has to say... Soon a roast chicken on a platter appears from the kitchen. After the elf pays over a gold piece, it is presented to Fingus, who immediately takes a chair and tucks in. You wait impatiently as he tears into the defenseless bird, tearing off legs and wings and gnawing them down to the bones, before turning his gentle attentions onto the breast meat. After awhile he sits back, eyes the fresh potato and stuffing stains adorning his long suffering shirt, belches, and orders another beer on Tragon's tab. When that too has disappeared down his gullet, he finally announces - "My friends, there's troubles in Orlane!" The mercenaries hear this, utter a collective groan, and turn back to their beers. "Ya bin ripped orf, lady," one of them says to the elf who bought him dinner. "Ever'body knows about th' troubles in Orlane," says a serving wench as she hurries by with a tray of ales for the merchants. The merchants nod. "I think it's the water...it's bad," says one of them. "Orlane...it's too close to the Rushmoors." "I heard that a sorcerer from the Valley of the Mage has moved into the Dim Forest, and is working evil magics on them," says another. "Now wait!" protests Fingus. "Yer stealin' me story! After all, she didn't buy YOU dinner!" He turns to Tragon and the woman. "I just come from Orlane, so I knows exactly what's happenin'! There's a sinister an' mysterious evil at work, there, I say! People go to bed at night, and in the morning...they's gone! Or whole families will disappear, leavin' their dinners half eaten! Sometimes people what's vanished return...not knowin' where they's been in the meantime! Sometimes, they seem...changed...and have fang marks on their necks... A lot of folks are scared...scared enough to pack up and leave the place." "He's right," says one of the clerics, speaking up. "A family came through here just two days ago. They wouldn't say why they'd left...or where they were going." "There's other stories about the area, too," Fingus adds ominously. "Some folks say that a big, many-headed monster has been stealin' children at night! And also, that enormous crocodiles is strayin' out of the marshes, lookin' for food..." He looks about at the crowd. "Yeah, we've heard it all before," says another mercenary. "Any news of the war?" Tragon frowns at the bard, "I think we both have been ripped off." "You sly bastard", whispers the young elven woman. Tragon's frown deepens. "The lady and I payed for your meal and drink dependent on some great tidings. You've told us no more than was already known in the rumors circulating this area. So, earn your meal now or repay the lady and I. And Innkeeper, no more drinks on my tab until I say otherwise." "Well how was I to know what's been told already? I just got to this fair town!" However, going by the steadily growing greenish hue in his pallour, it looks like Tragon may indeed get a refund of sorts... The young elven woman nods to Tragon and directs her gaze to the boisterous bard. "Tell us more....now", she says forcefully. Fingus splutters. "That's all I know about Orlane!" he says indignantly. "If ye want t'learn more ye'll have to go there yerself! Now, all I heard about the war is that there's a great council brewing, hosted by King Belvor hisself!" "Then let the inn and all local towns know that Fingus the Bard is a cheat. Bryana, you were too generous in offering to feed him before he told his story. And I should have never let this bard put another ale on my tab. I sincerely doubt he has the money to pay us back and I don't feel like soiling my hands on his worthless hide." Tragon moves back to his table and sits down. "Care to join me, Bryana? We can console each other on the loss of wealth." Bryana follows Tragon to his table. "No reason to get upset, now..." a calming voice carries just over the din of the crowd. "We don't want to spoil the good mood, nor the good will of our host," says the young Half-Elven lady, sitting near the kitchen as she gestures to the innkeeper who appear to be getting nervous at the situation. She then stood and addressed the Elven woman, and the Human man. "You made a bet with this human, and you lost... Unless he does have more to tell." "Hardly a bet. Any bard who wants to keep eating had better keep his end of the bargain." "I don't like being taken for a fool", replies the violet eyed elven woman. "Beating him for treachery is hardly wise when all the lesson you received in human nature cost you was a few coins." "Beating is quite customary for bards who lie to their customers. However, I'm only out two tankards of ale while this woman is out the cost of a fine meal. And the only thing I want is our money back or for him to keep talking. I never threatened him." "And remember, 'Experience is what you get when you don't get what you want.' This experience has cost you little, and if the 'Mighty Fingue' doesn't produce what you feel he's cost you, then you can harm him far more by spreading word of his treachery than you can with your fist... or worse your blades there. In a month, he will have lost 100 pounds for none would trust him again, even if he actually knew something of worth." "You speak the truth. I suspect the Innkeeper and the rest of the fine folks here will help spread the word." "True", says the violet eyed elven woman with an evil grin. "Come on everyone, stop threatening the poor bard, and let him tell us a tale." After her long speech, the delicately featured woman added, placing a hand to her chest as a way of pointing to herself, "I am Krista. And am sort of a wandering minstrel myself," she pauses and gives a big, beautiful smile, "and once Fingus has given his news and we have all either learned something new, or we have laughed him out of this inn, I will gladly restore the mood of this fine place with music!" "What say you all?" "Ahhhh, a fine angel you is!" exclaims Fingus, slobbering. "I shall make a song of your fine words and beauty! But for now, a song of the war, and King Belvor's heroism!" At this, the mercenaries perk up their ears. And the young Half Elf goes back to her soup, quickly finishing it and using the last of her biscuit to mop up the dregs. She sits back a bit and relaxes as the bard entertains. Fingus unslings his lute and begins to play. Surprisingly, his fingerplay is not half bad, and his voice is a fine tenor. "If you wish to play music to make these people happy, I don't object in the least. But, I still want this bard to live up to his end of the deal." "I say that you are wiser then I", replies the violet eyed elf, "My name is Bryana and I welcome your council and friendship if you shall give it." Turning back to Fingus Bryana gives him a hard look and says, "You should thank her. Her words may have saved your miserable life." Tragon smiles at the elven woman. "I would never have let you kill him, Bryana. Beat him, yes, but not kill him. He wouldn't be able to learn from his mistakes if he was dead." Tragon holds out his hand and flashes a friendly smile. "Tragon the Faithful, at your service." Bryana takes Tragon's hand and shakes it once, saying "Well met Tragon." She seems to want to say more, but instead turns back to the bard and waits for a better story. The small, cloaked figure finds his way over to the two men and the elf maiden. Saying nothing more than "barkeep - the next round is on me." "Thankya, thankya!" says Fingus with another belch. "At least YOU appreciate a good story! I wonder how it'll end..?" The dwarf downs the last of the tankard's contents, then beckons the serving wench. The serving wench takes a beer over to the ugly dwarf, then goes over to the small cloaked figure. "That's 5sp for for his beer, please..." she says to him. Accompanied by a small nod of his head and as pleasant a smile as he can muster, the dwarf raises his tankard of ale toward the small cloaked figure. Paying the barmaid,the small figure finds a seat next to the dwarf. "Names Zendar -- You?" Upon closer inspection 'Zendar' looks to stand just a little over five foot tall, weighing no more than 150 pounds. He holds no weapons that can be seen but the cloak 'in the color of midnight blue and black' hides a great deal. In talking to the dwarf Zendar pulls back his hood revealing His black hair frameing a sharp featured, ratty face dominated by piercing blue eyes. His looks are of those dark, wiry tipes that tend to vaguely remind people of small, vicious rodents. "Krrl" says the dwarf. "And thank yer fer the draught. A body gits thirsty travellin' the roads. And the pockets git a bit empty," he says glumly. Even with a closer look, Zendar can see nothing particularly out of the ordinary about the dwarf sitting in front of him, except perhaps the scars on his face and hands; and, of course, that nose. The typical onlooker wonders: did the gods give him that nose, or has a greatly incompetent healer had a turn at setting a fracture? Krrl's cloak and pack testify to many days in the elements. With only a slight effort, one can identify the scent that permeates the air around the dwarf as a mixture of stale food and sweat. With greater effort, one can distinguish in the pungent mix the sweat of dwarf, horse, and mule. Just as the dwarf and the rat-faced man drain their mugs, Krista scoops them up, "Thank you very much gentlemen, may I take these from you?" It appears that with her help, the serving wench has managed to catch up on all the work that it takes to run a tavern. "I'll have Tara come back to see if you'd like something else..." The Half Elf takes the mugs and heads back and disappears into the kitchen. The bard, Fingus, continues to play, and the mercenaries are now just drunk enough that they start to part with their coppers when he plays a baudy marching tune. They bang on their tables and on the floor in a pathetic attempt to keep time with the bard's tunes. They only succeed in speeding up the tempo until they crash into haphazard applause. And sure enough, after a few moments, the barmaid comes out from the kitchen area, and appraoches Zendar and Krrl to see if they'd like another round. Bryana, meanwhile, frowns and turns to Tragon. "Well..what do you think?", she says with a slight smile, "I'd like to go and see this place for myself. Company would be nice. Care to join me?" A frown momentarily crosses Tragon's face before a smile replaces it. "Yes, I believe I would enjoy that. If I'm to make a name for myself, Orlane is as good a place as any. And you've shown yourself to be a woman who's not afraid to speak for herself." "Shall we leave tomorrow morning?" "That sounds good to me. For now let us enjoy this night for what it has to offer", replies Bryana with a smile. She then turns to he bar and calls out, "Barkeep..two mugs of ale for my friend and I here!" Tragon smiles back and winks. "You are very generous tonight. I promise that you will not be swindled by me." "That's good...people who swindle me often end up dead.", replies Bryana with a smile and wink of her own. Tragon laughs heartily at her joke. "A quick wit as well! I shall enjoy our adventure together. Now, tell me, how do I stay on your good side?" "That's easy.", replies Bryana, "Do your share of the fighting, give me my fair share of the treasure we find, and don't tell me what to do. If you can stick to those simple rules I think we can be friends." Bryana grins widely as looks the man over again. "So tell me Tragon...with a name like Tragon the faithful you've got to be a cleric of sorts...what god do you worship?" Tragon looks wounded. "You mean I have to share the fighting with someone else?" He pauses for a moment and then winks. "Of course, fair share of the treasure is a must. Can't have teamwork if you don't share the rewards. And I'll do my best to not tell you what to do. I do have a problem with keeping my mouth shut, though. So, please don't take any offense. Just remind me to close it from time to time and we'll get along." "I am a follower of St. Cuthbert." He pats his sword. "And I'm definitely not a cleric. I'm a paladin." "And you, my dear Bryana, what is your profession?" "Oh my! A paladin!", Bryana almost falls over laughing. "Do I know how ta pick 'em or what?" Bryana's face goes flush as she regains her composer. She then leans in closer to the paladin and whispers something to him. A quiet exchange follows. Bryana then pushes back from the table and stands. "I'm sorry", she says quietly. She then turns and makes her way to the bar. Sitting on a stool she calls out, "2 more ale down here Barkeep. I need to forget." Tragon gets up from his table and follows her to the bar. He leans over and whispers in her ear. After a few moments, he straightens up and offers his arm to Bryana. Looking abit surprised, Bryana takes the arm that Tragon offers and goes back to his table with him. As the bard begins to make most of the crowd forget what a jackass he is with his stories, Krista listens to the new friendship that is forming between the Paladin of Cuthbert, and the Elven woman... After a little while, the young adventurer picks up her belongings and her bowl, and heads into the kitchen. A moment later she comes back out wearing an apron and begins to aid the serving wench by clearing tables and collecting empty tankards. She has removed her nicely-sleeved traveling shirt and is now wearing only her cotton undershirt, and her bodice on top. Her sleeveless arms arm quite muscular, but still very femininely toned. She seems to be having a wonderful time playing at wench... As soon as he has seated Bryana and then himself he continues an earlier conversation. "Now, I'm quite happy to go adventuring with you to Orlane, but I'm thinking that it might be a good idea to find a magic-user and perhaps a cleric to accompany us. While I'm eager to make my name known throughout the lands as a hero, I'm not foolish enough to think I can do it alone. Or even with the help of a very pretty fighter at my side." Tragon gives Bryana a charming smile. "No, we will need a cleric to heal our wounds and a magic-user to deal with the arcane things we will undoubtedly encounter. Now, some of these folks around us are most definitely adventurers in search of an adventure. So, Bryana, shall we interview some of these fine people to see who will suit our particular style? Or would you rather that we two chance it on our own?" Bryana smiles at the Paladin's subtle style and says, "If this area is as dangerous as folks say I think it would indeed be smart to gather together a band of adventurer's. From what I hear those town's folk could really use some help and I'm sure there will be more then enough treasure to make us all happy. Let us toast Tragon! To the tamming of Orlane!" Bryana raises her mug of ale high in the air. Tragon laughs and raises his own mug. "To the taming of Orlane!" The other half elf slips her book into a pocket and walks over to the two who are sharing toasts and backslapping. "Did I overhear that you were discussing going to Orlane? If you can stand for another's company I would travel with you. My name is Fianna, an acolyte of Aerdrie Faenya, and a prestidigitator of limited skill. I have been staying here in Hochoch contemplating the next leg of my travels and am ready to shake the dust of this town off my boots and be on my way. Orlane seems as interesting a place to go as any. I would not be willing to walk out the door right now however, perhaps in the morning after my meditations, study, and rest." Fianna stands before you and for those of you who are now closer she is a ravishing beauty, the type who could start a fight or sway a man's resolve. Tragon rises from his seat towering over the woman. "Fianna, I am Tragon the Faithful and this is Bryana. We have been talking about needing a magic-user. Please, have a seat." After Fianna has seated herself, Tragon sits down. "Now, we weren't planning on leaving until tomorrow morning as it doesn't seem smart traveling in the dark if you don't have to do so." "Might I ask a few personal questions?" Fianna raises an eyebrow but says, "You may certainly ask." Bryana grins at this and sits back to listen...a mug of ale in hand. Tragon leans over the table motioning for Bryana to join him. Bryana leans foward to listen. Another quiet conversation ensues. Amid the drunken revelry of the mercenaries, a short, stout fellow moves quietly from his chair and makes his way to the table where Tragon is sitting. The barrel-chested fellow wears a worn, brown sackcloth shirt over a coat of mail. In his hand, he carries a crumpled brown-and-green tartan cap and a large, knotted club. He has black hair and reddish cheeks. Blue eyes twinkle gleefully above a rather swollen-looking nose, however, no smile crosses his lips. "Good evening, I believe I heard you mention that you are a follower of the Cudgel, sir," he says, allowing a smile to cross his lips as he humbly addresses Tragon in a deep, almost growling, voice. Bryana looks up at the man when he approaches the table and watches him closely as he talks with Tragon. Tragon looks at the man. "The Cudgel? Oh... You mean St. Cuthbert? I've never heard that nickname before. Yes, sir, I am. The name is Tragon the Faithful and my companion's name is Bryana. And would your name be?" Bryana nods once to the man as Tragon introduces her. The newcomer smiles at Tragon, gives a polite smile and a curt bow to Bryana, and then turns his attention back to Tragon. "I am Talbot Stoutley, a priest of St. Cuthbert, Order of the Chapeaux," he says with an edge of pride in his voice. "I couldn't help but overhear your need of a cleric. I would..." he pauses a bit as if fearing he is being intrusive, but continues, "I would like to volunteer." Tragon smiles at the man. "I am honored to meet you, Talbot. We do need a cleric and a priest of St. Cuthbert would make me very happy. Are you an acolyte or a more powerful priest?" Bryana frowns and quietly says, "oh..that's just great. First a paladin and now a priest. I'm never gonna live this one down." Tragon smiles at Bryana. "And both of St. Cuthbert! You're going to be smothered in common sense." He chuckles. "Does that mean you're for letting Talbot into our group of two?" Bryana looks to Tragon. "I'm for letting anyone come with us as long as they are not working against us. I understand your good intentions in interviewing these folk, but in my experience actions prove louder than words. None of us will know our worth as a team or as an individual until we are faced with our first encounter." Tragon nods. "There is wisdom in that statement. And, frankly, I agree." Bryana then turns to Stoutley and Fianna, "As far as I'm concerned you are both welcome to venture with us. I would be honored to have your company along with my friend Tragon here." Bryana then lifts her mug of ale and says.."Come you two..have a seat with us and enjoy this fine drink. It may be our last for awhile!" Bryana turns and winks at Tragon with a smile...giggling slightly afterwards. "Thank you Bryana for remembering I'm here," says Fianna. To Talbot, "Hail and well met good fellow," Fianna greets Talbot. "Well met, friend," Talbot replies. To Tragon,"I would prefer to leave things just as they are without anymore discussion. My surprise with your direct questions about my ablities really stems from your lack of regard about my beliefs and alignments - that would seem to be the first concern for any Paladin, the company he keeps." Tragon shrugs. "As I explained to Bryana earlier, St. Cuthbert is the patron of common sense, truth and forthrightness. You'll find me atypical of most paladins you've met or heard about. I didn't mean to dismiss your beliefs. The fact is, you're not evil, and while I may follow a good god, you're not required to do so as long as you don't commit evil." Talbot nods in avid support of Tragon's explanation of Cuthbert's sphere. "Bryana can tell you that I'm rather open minded. I hope that you and Talbot will be as well." "As to Bryana's invitation, thank you, I will join you - please let me pay for the next round." "I am just an acolyte," replies Stoutley. He rests his knotted club on the floor, leaning forward on it like a walking cane. He leans not from weariness, but from anticipation. Tragon shakes his head. "It is nothing to be ashamed of. I am a fledgling Paladin as well. In fact, I think Bryana is also just starting out." The door to the common room opens again, and a half-elf walks in. He wears chain mail and is quite festooned with weapons... Looking around the inn he notices a small group gathering at a table. He kind of grimices at the bard playing on the other side of the room. "Hey barkeep don't you know better than to let that bum in here. He is likely to swindle your customers of money. And then you might have to clean up the mess from someone gutting him." Bryana, a beautiful golden-haired female elf dressed in dark clothing, looks up at the elf who just entered as he calls out to the barkeep. As you all look over him he is bristling with weapons. He has a couple daggers on his waist along with a battle axe across his back and in his hands he is carrying a large warhammer. His eyes are what catch you as they are grey with a flash of gold in them. He otherwise looks normal all though you do notice that his pack has a squarish aspect to it. "I would like a mead for myself and I will buy anyone who was swindled by that bard a drink. As I have had that pleasure already." the half elf says grimicing. Bryna gets up from her table and walks over to the half-elf. "Greetings warrior...my name is Bryana...and I'm afraid I share your luck regarding the bard." "Eh, won't yer buy me an' me mate a drink?" Krrl inquires of the newly-arrived traveler. "I ain't been swindled by no bard, but I has kindled some lard. Tain't that clost enough?" Tragon stands up towering over the table and those seated at it."Then you might want to send them this way. My companion and I had the misfortune of believing the bard's claims about great tidings for all." Looking over at the table of people "Well it sounds like I need to buy a couple of drinks." Bryna gets up from her table and walks over to the half-elf. "Greetings warrior...my name is Bryana...and I'm afraid I share your luck regarding the bard." Looking over the lady you can tell he has a few other things on his mind "I believe that we will be hard put to find a tavern that he hasn't pulled this on. As I am sure you can tell he does enjoy his drink and food. And so much the better if it is free. What can I get you. You look like you would enjoy a nice glass of mulled wine and a nice roaring fire to go with it" Thrwyn says with a smile on his face. Bryana smiles back. "Wine and a fire are indeed nice, but I've found that ale and a good fight settles better in my stomach." "Do you mind if I join your little group here? Being as I am buying some of the drinks." Thrwyn asks of Tragon "The name is Thrwyn Koeler" tells Thrwyn to the group. Tragon holds out an arm. "Tragon the Faithful. And, please, have a seat and join us. Bryana bought the bard dinner and I bought him the drinks." "It is good to meet you Tragon. You look like a good type to have around in a tight situation." states Thrwyn as he grasps Tragon's arm. Tragon laughs. "I was thinking the same thing. You've got the look of a fighter about you. Right? And before you have to ask, I'm a paladin of St. Cuthbert." "What can I get you to drink?" asks Thrwyn. "Another tankard of ale will be fine. Thank you." Turning back to Bryana, "And you never did tell me what you would like." Tragon chuckles. "I know what I'm hoping to hear!" Bryana sets her ale down and glares at Tragon briefly before turning to Thrwayn. "I am what you see before you, Thrwyn. A beautiful defenseless female elf." Her violet eyes seem to meet the fighter's in challenge. "Ahhh a beautiful and defenseless woman. Not the kind I usally take to but..." Thrwyn says smiling. "So what has that dumb bard been telling you. He does usally have a way of stating the obvious but it is sometimes fun to find out if he is telling the truth." Shouting to the barkeep, "I need a mug of ale for my new friend here and a mug of mead for myself. If the lady ever decideds what she wants put that on my tab also." Tragon chuckles, but manages not to comment. Bryana looks to Tragon and then back to Thrwyn. With a grin she says, "This is gonna be interesting..." and sits back down in her chair at the table. Tragon looks at Bryana, chuckles and winks. "Indeed, fair lady. What makes you think we'll play the game?" Brana grins back at the paladin. "You'll play...the same game all men play...You'll see." Bryana then chuckles to herself and takes yet another drink of her ale. Tragon laughs and slaps the table. "Bryana, I like you. I really like you. And you may actually be worth the aggravation of playing the game. We shall see." The stocky fellow in sackcloth smiles and nods his head politely. "Is a pleasure to make yer acquaintance, Thrwyn," his voice is friendly, but his eyes survey Thrwyn suspiciously, "I am Talbot Stoutley." Stoutley has leaned his bronzewood club against the wall, but he still clutches his tartan hat tightly in his left hand. Fianna makes note of the innuendo floating across the table and rolls her eyes. "If we're going to Orlane in the morning then I need to study and prepare myself for the trip. What time will we meet to leave?" Once she finds out she exchanges pleasantries and heads to her room. "It looks like you have one that doesn't like men Targon. We might have to change her opinion." Thrwyn says smiling. Tragon's smile leaves his face. "That's not a nice thing to say, Thrwyn. Apologize to the lady, please." Bryana watches the exchange closely..a smile upon her face. "We will leave at sunrise. It will take sometime to get to Orlane." "Sunrise to go to Orlane. Hmmmm? That sounds like an interesting place. Do you mind if I join you?" Thrwyn asks. "Perhaps. I alone do not make the decision. The others have a vote as well." Bryana stands and turns to Thrywn with her mug in her hand. "Why of course you can come my well armored friend! Here..toast with me both of you...(she looks to Tragon and then to Thrwyn)..To the taming of Oralne!! "Bryana slams her mug of ale against the other two's and then takes a mighty gulp...draining the mug dry. Afterwards she turns to the barkeep.."Barkeep..More ale over here! My friends and I are thirsty!!!" "Have a good night, Fianna."