The Prancing Pony

[Nightsworn]

OOC: The Prancing Pony is an Inn/Tavern for wayward and weary travelers. The setting is fantasy, so whimsical creatures and races are welcome. I'm hoping to start just a loose, open thread for anyone interested... one that just takes off on it's own, without a specific 'formula'. Perhaps people will sit around and weave tales, or go upstairs to some of the inns many rooms, or even go out adventuring together once they've met. So please come in, grab a chair, have a drink, warm yourself by the fire.

Feel free to join in at anytime, anyone is welcome to pop up in the story line.

 

[Nightsworn]

Ulah Aylows

Ulah had come into the Prancing Pony several hours ago. The place had few patrons when he arrived. He moved sluggishly towards a table in the back and ordered a large ale and some of the Prancing Ponies famous potatoes. Talik's potatotes were a well known meal for several leagues away from this place. It had been a while since he had been here, but nothing seemed to change. Talik was still running the place and Sheila and Tyra the barmaids were as beautiful as ever.

He pondered over the last weeks events while drinking down his tankard. Upon traveling by himself and his wolf he was ambushed by a group of Orcs. He had been taken captive while he was sleeping and the wolf was out hunting. Normally, a Drow Elf Assassin would never be taken alive in such a matter but apparently my sleep was far deeper than usual.
They had taken me captive and beat me several times, apparently for fun. In the several days I had been there I had learned that they were a patrol group for a larger band of Orcs and Goblins. I had been pretty well stripped of all my armor and weapons and hog tied for days while my holders had taken fleeting shots at me with fists and boots. Then as luck would have it the strappings started to tear. The dumb orcs had somehow noticed and retied me with my hands behind my neck. My flowing white hair allowed me to tie in wire strands in my hair. Although, looking almost decorative they had several different means. One night after the orcs had become quite drunk on their latest acquisitions, I was able to free myself from the bindswithout anyone noticeing. I was able to creep to where my supplies were. I slowly and quietly was able to grab my swords. I picked up the swords and was immediately hit with rage. I slaughtered the orcs as they lay. Several were able to get away in their drunken stupor. I looted the corpses for any money and any valuable items. As you can well imagine, not much there but several copper and silver pieces. I quickly dressed and equpped myself. I guessed I was near the Prancing Pony by the ways of the stars. Pain entered my legs as I started to move as the adreneline wore off. My guess is the few orcs that got away will be back to look for me.
So now I sit in the somewhat familiar inn, trying to plot my next move. I still had my mission to finish, for the pay was quite remarkable if I could finish, but I now had to think of the orcs that would be looking for me. I smiled at Tyra as she filled my mug again. I looked up as the door swung open. Immediately, my hands went to the crossbow on my hip........

 

[DeliciousMaiden]

Tyra

Tyra ran a practised eye over the few assembled patrons. All had been quiet so far. The atmosphere was subdued and talk kept to a minimum ... for now ... Her gaze went to Ulah as he approached and rested his tankard upon the bar. Wordlessly Tyra filled it to the brim, a soft smile lighting her face as she watched him sip appreciatively at the cool golden liquid. He was a familar face and yet she did not actually know him. He had been there a couple of hours and had been drinking steadily, although he was by no means drunk. Perhaps the hearty meal had soaked up some of the alcohol.

Glancing again, Tyra saw that his attention had moved to the door. Curious, she followed the direction of his gaze ...


http://www.theinternetdepartmentstore.com/imagesxl/C-439.jpg

 

[Zarai]

The night was dark, no stars shining in the sky. But the moon; the moon was glorious that night. It shone brightly in the black sky, it’s light throwing sparkles down onto the still, glassy surface of the water. The small clearing at the edge of the lake was quiet; nothing seemed to be moving in the midst of it. A small black wolf lay at the edge of the clearing, next to a rather large boulder, upon which leaned a long beautifully carved bow. His yellow eyes glittered as they watched the lake intently. His ears perked once before falling back down as he was rewarded for his vigilance.

The surface of the lake began to move, small bubbles coming to the surface, and finally a shape breaking the water. Droplets flew from her dark, curly hair as she shook her head to clear her eyes. She stood there for a moment surveying the clearing, and apparently finding everything to her liking, began to move towards it, out of the lake. Anyone watching would have thought themselves bewitched. She strode forward, not a care in the world. The water streamed off her lithe body as she exited the lake. Her skin was extremely fair and seemed to glow in the moonlight as water dripped off her. Her breasts were full, her stomach flat, all of her extremely well toned. If one were to look closely, a long jagged scar streaked across her right inner thigh, and another smaller scar lay on her collarbone. Rather than marring her appearance, they seemed somehow to be at home on her fair skin. If one were to look very closely, they might notice the slight tilt to her eyes, and the sharp pointiness of her ears under her hair. She had high, fine cheekbones, and a wide, full smile. Her emerald eyes shone brightly as she reached the beach area.

The wolf watched her unconcerned as she reached over him and grabbed a small leather pack that he had been laying in front of. Smiling, she flicked a drop of water at him and laughed as he managed a small growl before his eyes closed. Pulling a thin blanket from the pack she spread it on the ground near him and sat down, her long legs stretched out before her. Running her fingers through her short locks, she grimaced as she recalled cutting them a few days before. Leaning back on her arms, she glanced up at the moon. “tis a beautiful night isn’t it?”, she said in an oddly lyrical language.

“It’s more beautiful now.” An answer came floating back on the wind, causing the small wolf to jerk his head up and look behind her. The woman however, seemed unconcerned and a tinkling laugh came out of her mouth as she stood. Looking straight to the spot where the tall man walked from the darkness, she smiled, her eyes sparkling with flecks of gold. He was a dark figure as he strode into the clearing. Wearing a long dark cloak, she could still see a long sword strapped to his waist, and a smaller knife hung from a strap on his thigh.

She stood waiting; the fact that she was naked and unarmed seemed not to bother her at all. Her smile growing wider as he grew closer she spoke softly, “I wondered if you would come.”

His eyes seemed troubled and he had trouble speaking for a moment. “You knew that I would. I had to.” His voice broke slightly as he reached her. His arms reached out and gathered her in, crushing her to him, his head lowering as hers turned up. Their lips met in a forceful kiss, her arms snaking around behind him to hold him close. Their tongues danced together for a long moment before he pulled back and looked down into her smiling face. His finger stroked her cheek as he stared at her for a long quiet moment. She merely looked back at him, the smile faltering only once as his eyes searched hers.

He opened his mouth to speak, his eyes seeming strangely wet, but she silenced him with another long kiss. She spoke one word as she began to work at the strap holding the knife on. “Don’t.” Pushing her away, he quickly slid the knife from his leg and the sword from his waist. He tossed them near the edge of the blanket, his cloak landing a moment later on top of them. He turned back towards her just as she reached for him, and she pulled him to the ground next to her.

Another kiss followed, this one longer and more fervent, as his hands began to slide down her side, to her hip. They hovered there for a moment, before one of the moved back up and cupped her breast. She shivered slightly as his fingers ran lightly over her nipples. Her hands began to work on the buttons to his shirt, and before long the rest of his clothes lay in a small pile next to his cloak and weapons. He pushed her from her side to her back, and her back arched, a groan coming from her throat as his mouth closed over her nipple, one of his hands tracing the length of the scar on her leg. She twined her fingers into his hair and held his head close, as her other hand ran down his muscular back, and around to the front of him, feeling him stiffen as her fingers closed around him. He made a noise from deep in his throat and moved his head up to kiss her again. She nibbled on his lip as they kissed and chuckled softly as he made a soft noise of protest when she bit a little harder. As if in response, his hand slipped from her breast down her flat stomach, his fingers toying with her scar again before finally moving to the center of her. Her hips arched up to meet his hand as he began slowly stroking her, moistness covering his hand before long. Smiling he looked down at her, and slowly slid one finger inside her wetness. She moaned and squirmed as he moved his hand back a bit, before replacing it with two fingers this time. Her hand tightened on him and began stroking him more in earnest this time, her hips moving in time with his hand.

Her lips parted slightly and a small gasp came from her when his lips reclaimed her nipple, his tongue playfully flicking out to touch her. His fingers began moving inside her a bit faster as her breath became shorter and she began to squirm under his attention. He watched her face carefully, and the moment that she looked into his eyes, he could feel her spasming around his fingers, growing even moister. He smiled in triumph as he kissed her again. After a moment, she calmed, his fingers still resting inside her, her hand locked around him. Her breath coming in short pants she smiled up at him and sat up, at the same time pushing him down. He looked up at her, saying nothing, his eyes dark with desire. She leaned over him, kissing him again. She took the hand that had been inside her, and slowly sucked his fingers into her mouth, tasting herself on them. She kissed him again, and then her mouth slowly moved down his neck, her tongue leaving moist trails to his chest. She toyed with his nipples for a moment, playfully biting one, and then choking back a soft scream of surprise as his hand slapped her bottom rather sharply. Her eyes met his for moment, and she grinned at the innocent look on his face.

Her mouth continued its wet trail down his chest, onto his stomach, and finally, glancing at him one more time, her tongue flicked out and barely touched the head of his cock. He jerked a bit, and she giggled softly, holding him more tightly this time, as her mouth closed around him. He groaned and grabbed her hair, locking her in place, which was fine, as she had no intention of stopping. Her mouth moved up and down the length of him, her tongue playing and teasing; her teeth running gently over the tip of him from time to time. He shuddered each time she did this, and gathered her hair in his hand tighter. He whispered softly about liking her hair longer, and she nearly faltered, was glad he couldn’t see the small tear in her eye. She brushed it away quickly and began her ministrations again, more seriously this time. Her mouth moving over him like silk, up and down, her hands toying with him as well, squeezing and stroking. He began to stiffen and swell, sounds coming from him all the time now.

When she thought he could handle no more, she pulled away from him, and swung her legs over him, straddling him, hovering above him for a moment, watching him. His eyes were half closed, and his hand reached up to squeeze her breast. She gasped slightly as she lowered herself onto him. His hardness sliding deep inside of her. Setting down on his lap she sat there for a moment catching her breath, before beginning to move on top of him. His hands grasped her hips roughly and began to pull her up and down. She arched her back and threw her head backwards as she rode him, moans of pleasure constantly coming from her mouth. Their pace became urgent as they both felt the other one growing close. She reached behind her at the last moment and fondled him as she let out a scream of pleasure as waves of heat flowed from the middle of her. He grabbed her and held her tight as he exploded inside her, feeling her tighten around him. She fell down limp on his chest, both of them panting slightly as she lay on top of him. They lay that way a long while, before she finally rolled off him, coming to rest on her side. His eyes were closed, but he moaned in pleasure as her mouth closed over him again, cleaning him off. She lay back next to him and all was quiet for awhile.

The night passed far too quickly for them. They spoke in quiet murmurs a long while, took a swim, and then made love again. She finally fell asleep, nestled in his arms just before dawn. As the sun rose, she awoke, and found herself alone. Even the wolf was nowhere to be seen. She stretched languidly, and sat up yawning. Red marks marred her fair skin from his hands. And she ran her fingers over them remembering. Glancing down, her entire body grew still as she saw the flower. A black rose. One of the rarest in this part of the country. In full bloom. Swallowing hard she reached down to pick it up. She sat there motionless for a while, looking out over the lake. Finally she rose and pulled clothes from the pack and dressed. Strapping a small knife to each of her thighs, she grabbed the rather large bow that had been resting against the boulder and slung it over her back. On the edge of the clearing, she glanced back to see if she had forgotten anything. She saw the rose laying where she had left it. Swallowing hard she turned on her heel and left it there. A black rose. Appropriate really. For today was the day she was supposed to die… and her lover of the past few hours… the man who was supposed to kill her.

***********************************************

Kita swung the door open and walked into The Prancing Pony, the wolf having been dismissed long before she came close to the place. Her eyes taking in the room quickly, an eyebrow arched slightly as they slid over the drow. He looked familiar but she couldn't be sure from where she stood. Nodding slightly in his direction since he seemed to be studying her quite intensely, she headed for a table in the corner, away from most of the other people there. Propping her bow behind her, she spoke, her voice sounding like soft music to the barmaid that came her way. Looking around again while she waited for her food and drink, she ran her fingers self-consciously through her newly shortened locks... seemed she was having trouble getting used to them.

Her thoughts drifted to the night before, and a smile crossed her full lips for a brief moment, before being replaced by a look of sad resignment. The next time she saw him might indeed be her last... or his. Forcing a smile to her lips again as her potatoes and ale were set before her, she nodded her thanks and began to eat.

 

[DeliciousMaiden]

OOC:

Hope you didn't mind me just jumping in.
I'll continue to develop my character if she's acceptable.

PM me or let me know here if you want me to change anything or would rather I didn't play ...

*huggs*

DM x

 

[DeliciousMaiden]

Tyra

The young woman was alluring and a stranger to the tavern.
Tyra noticed that Ulah seemed mesmerised and Tyra realised belatedly that she herself had been staring.

Slipping from behind the bar, Tyra made her way over to the secluded corner where the newcomer had taken refuge. With a welcoming smile, Tyra took the order and returned to the bar to set about serving up a portion of the readily available potatoes. Glancing over, once more, Tyra noted that the woman seemed somehow ill at ease. Though she had acknowledged Ulah's attention, she seemed reluctant to engage any of her fellow clients in conversation.

Renowned for her efficiency, Tyra had soon catered for the young woman's thirst and hunger and was headed back to her post after depositing a tankard and a steaming plate of nourishing food before her most recent guest. A smile in acknowledgement of the politely thankful nod of gratitude and Tyra returned to her post, glancing around to check if anyone else was in need of further sustenance, or company.

 

[patrick1]

a wandering minstrel

The grey-haired man enters singing. 'A wandering minstrel I, a thing of shreds, and patches, of ballads, songs, and snatches...'

He glances vaguely at Kita. 'Mm, snatches,' he says to himself wistfully.

He is indeed somewhat shredded and patched. A melange of green cloth, yellow spotted with blue, faded denim, occasional coconut leaves and old copies of the Prancing Times somehow cover his body in a parody of shirt and trousers. A battered dulcimer is strapped to his back

He smiles, toothily, not seeming quite to focus on anyone around him. 'Heel,' he says behind him.

Attached to a cuff at his right wrist is a chain that leads to a leather collar, which in turn is fastened to an elaborate combination of leather, buckles and chains. It's a body harness, only - there's no body inside it.

Tyra, with her ready smile, attends to him. 'Call me Ish,' he says with a flourish. 'Of course, that should've been my first line. Old-ish, wise-ish, sober-ish. Just a fruit juice for me. And a tankard of something powerfully alcoholic for the slave.'

Tyra's smile takes on another aspect as she looks down at the empty body harness. 'Yes, yes,' says the minstrel with a sort of cheerful grumpiness, 'she's imaginary. So far. I'm from a place called Cyberia, you see. There's a lot of our kind up in those clouds - with imaginary slaves.'

Tyra nods, and takes his order, and finally he unstraps his dulcimer and sits down with a rattle of chain and a creak of joint. He tunes a couple of strings. It seems he can indeed play, and his voice, though obviously past its best, is still passable. He continues the minstrel's song:

Are you in sentimental mood?
I'll sigh with you,
Oh, sorrow, sorrow!
On maiden's coldness
do you brood? I'll do so, too--
Oh, sorrow, sorrow!
I'll charm your willing ears
With songs of lovers' fears,
While sympathetic tears
My cheeks bedew--
Oh, sorrow, sorrow!

And then the drinks arrive, and as if embarrassed, he puts his instrument down and sips at his fruit juice - waiting, perhaps, till no-one else is watching before gulping down the brew of his imaginary slave.

 

[Nightsworn]

Ulah Aylows

I sit at the table intaking all I see. I noticed for the first time that Cub was not with me. I wondered if he had made it out of the area or if the worthless orcs had somehow managed to get him. I missed him, for at times I think he is the only friend I have.

The girl who had entered looked vaguely familiar. Had I raped her or maybe killed her lover? Perhaps I had sold her to some one years ago. My mind wandered back in time as I tried to think of her face.

I watched as Tyra moved from patron to patron. It was always a pleasure to watch her move. I wondered briefly if she had been with a man before. Certainly she had for having such a great look and smile not to mention her body. She moved around the tavern almost graciously. I stared at her breasts while drinking down my tankard. Upon noticing my glass was empty, I nodded the cup towards her so that she would refill.

While I waited he watched a jester of some sort walk in. He definitely seemed to be a little off base. He spoke of his slave on a harness. However, the harness was empty. Ulah thought the man to be a nuisance and would probably be better off dead.

I slowly got up from the table, my eyes constantly shifting around the room. My hood somewhat covered my face as I walked around. I stopped at the jester and questioned him.
"You, jester. Which way is it that you came here? By chance was it south via Marisol?"

 

[Zarai]

Kita

With the potatoes and ale settling pleasantly in my stomach, my disposition cheered up somewhat, and I leaned back in my chair, propping my booted foot up on the edge of the chair, so that my chin nearly rested on my knee.

I had watched the drow as he studied my face from time to time and I realized that he was indeed a ghost from the past. Shaking my head, I pushed the thought from my head, tonight was a night for celebrating. By all rights, I should have been dead. But it hadn't happened. He hadn't come back, perhaps he couldn't bring himself to do it. Whatever the reason, I would not complain, though in my heart, I mourned his loss... realizing I'd never have him again in that way most likely.

My eyes slid over the waitress again, Tyra it seems she had told me when she served my food. Very pretty lass, and quite friendly as well, making everyone seem well at ease and quick to smile.

My eyebrow arched slightly when my gaze landed on the old one who was singing. I suppressed a chuckle as I saw him down his 'slave's' drink. Wanting to hear more of his song, I stood and moved out of the corner to a closer table, smiling at him and sitting down, tapping my foot. Watching the drow come up and speak to him, I turned my attention away, not wanting to appear overly interested in their conversation. I wanted no problems. Not tonight.

Waving to Tyra, I smiled brightly as I ordered another ale, leaving extra coin on the table for her friendly service as she brought it for me, my eyes holding hers for a moment, a sparkle in them.

"For your quick smile and wonderful service. 'tis a nice place to spend the evening I should think."

 

[DeliciousMaiden]

Tyra

Tyra's smile broadened as she watched the arrival of the stranger. *Strange* was indeed the word for him: Though used to seeing many types here, Tyra could not help but let her curious gaze run over his eccentric attire and come to rest on the cuff and suspended body harness.

Her chuckle was soft, not derisive as Ish introduced himself.

" ... Just a fruit juice for me. And a tankard of something powerfully alcoholic for the slave."

Tyra blushed as she realised that her expression had betrayed her.

"Yes, yes, she's imaginary. So far. I'm from a place called Cyberia, you see. There's a lot of our kind up in those clouds - with imaginary slaves.'"

Tyra nodded feigning understanding, though in truth she had never heard of this strange land. Promising to bring the drinks over, Tyra turned to prepare the order hearing as the minstrel began to play and sing. His presence would indeed enliven the place if nothing else, Tyra thought as she took up an ale jug and placed it on the tray, topping up a couple of tankards as she made her way between the tables towards the softly crooning man. With economy of movement, Tyra slid the juice before the man and with only the slightest hesitation placed the second drink slightly to the side before the empty leather frame. Her eyes moved downwards briefly, before she tore her eyes away from the imaginary slave and turnes quickly to take up her post behind the bar.

Glancing over into the corner, Tyra saw the young woman had finished her meal and was watching the room as she drank. She too it seemed had noticed the minstrel. Tyra was surprised when she stood and crossed to sit beside him.

Glancing to the opposite side of the room, Tyra saw that Ulah had a full tankard she noted and then realised that he was rising and moving towards the minstrel who had now finished his song and was sat quietly juice in hand. She was sure there would not be trouble, the presence of the female would ensure that. Even as the thoughts passed through her mind, Tyra saw the young woman's eye catch hers and nodded in understanding, moving swiftly to provide the requested beverage. Her eyes ran over the assembled group, content that people had settled down and seemed content to have a good time. If the evening passed without violence or bloodshed, her job would be so much easier.

She accepted the coin gratefully.

"My thanks for your generosity. We try to make this place a haven, a retreat, where one can rest and recharge."

She smiled at the assembled group.

"Might I be of further service to any of you...?"

She glanced at the "slave" and winked at Ulah flirtatiously.
It seemed that it would be a good evening ...

 

[Nightsworn]

Ulah

I watched the man curious for an answer, still not knowing if he was an escaped prisoner with stolen clothes or perhaps someone else.

I noticed the girl grab a closer chair as my hand slipped to the handle of my short sword. She seemed to be be either listening to the minstrel or eavesdropping.

Tyra was speaking and although my mind was not concentrating on her words, her smile seemed to ease my tensions and I winked at her as only a Drow can do.

Suddenly there was a rustling outside, perhaps more patrons were coming in or perhaps someone was coming for me. My grip tightened as I waited for the mans response.

 

[DeliciousMaiden]

Tyra

Tyra saw the hand move to the sword and instictively knew that trouble might follow. Moving slightly, she rested a hand lightly on Ulah's arm and smiled up at him, her petite 5 ft 6 frame dwarfed by his.

"Surely there is nothing that the warmth of fine food, good ale and a lively fire can not soothe ... unless you lack stimulating company..."

Her eyes raised to his, half fliratiously, half appealing.
She hoped that the convivial atmosphere within the tavern would continue ...

 

[Zarai]

I stiffened slightly as his hand dropped to his sword, and my hand dropped to one of the knives strapped to my thigh. My bow wouldn't do much good in these close quarters, not to mention it was still propped against the far wall. I didn't want trouble, but I certainly wouldn't back away if it came my way... perhaps the drow did indeed remember me.

Knowing from Tyra's look that she would do her best to keep blood from being shed, I relaxed somewhat as she put her hand on his arm and spoke to him. Tearing my gaze from them, I looked back to the minstrel and smiled again, sipping my ale, the other hand still resting casually on my knife.

 

[DeliciousMaiden]

Tyra

Tyra glanced around the table and caught the young woman's eyes. It seemed that things could change dramatically here in the blink of an eye. She did not always manage to diffuse the situation, but would always try.

"Minstrel ... another song would lift our spirits ... or perhaps you are a story teller. Share with us the history of your slave and how she comes to submit to You as her Master..."

Tyra kept her voice light, the request tinged with eagerness and curiosity, her hand still laid lightly upon Ulah's arm and a smile in the woman's direction.

 

[DreamGrrl]

Trysteae

The door to the common room opens slowly, the cool and dark of the evening preceding a cloaked figure into the room. A black-gloved hand shuts the door as the figure turns to scan the room from the black depths of its hood.

Purple fabric trails along behind the figure as it moves to the far side of the room and draws a chair against the wall. Yards of purple fabric pool around the chair as the figure settles into it, exposing slender, well-defined legs encased in soft kid boots to the knee. Black leathers, shiny with oil and use, are tucked into the top of the boots. The black-gloved hand lifts, brushing the cloak back to expose a vibrant shirt of woven strips of fabric. Stripes of green and maroon twine up the arm as the hand is lifted high.

The index and middle finger gesture imperiously, indicating that service is needed. The hand continues downwards, tipping back the deep hood.

An elaborate pile of fat, raven-black curls sit atop a heart-shaped face. The pallor of this woman’s skin is almost enough to remind one of the vibrant white the face of the moon itself shines with. Huge, glittering green eyes glide across the room, framed by long sooty lashes. A pert, upturned nose rests above a bow shaped mouth that draws into a slow, lopsided smile.

“Well, well, well. What have we here…” she murmurs softly.

 

[patrick1]

ish the minstrel

Something cold comes in the door with a pale woman and he seems to come awake. Strange. Did somebody say that, or only think it? Sometimes Ish can't tell the difference. People become smudges and he doesn't know if their lips have moved or only their imaginations.

Yet he knows a pretty woman when he sees one. Old goat.

What's that? Ah yes, a song. Lacking money, he had better sing for his supper, hadn't he? What had the sinister one asked him? Or the smiling young woman? Ah - to have her in the harness would be -

Don't be an old fool. Sing you songster. 'Slave, how does that song go?'

His falsetto is not what it was. Still, before it grates on the ears too much, it's a passable soprano. Besides, he can't remember all the words so it won't take long.

'Marisol, marisol,
I found a master in Marisol
He treats a woman like a doll
the master I found in Marisol.

He may seem mad, he may seem dumb
He may mislay his sense of rhythm
But he likes his slave to cum and cum
the master I found in Marisol.'

He peers into the crowd. Someone is laughing. Did he get the words wrong? Should it have been something about soldiers?

Heck, and is the slave's glass empty already? Has he sung enough to merit her a refill? He downs his fruit juice and looks at the serving wench hopefully, playing a little arpeggio on his strings in honour of the curve of her eyebrows.

 

[Nightsworn]

Ulah Aylows

Ulah thinks to himself perhaps the minstrel is indeed an escaped mental prisoner. "So you have come from Marisol? I hear there are orcs about the roads these days is that correct?" He feels the warmth of Tyra's hand on his arm. He thinks perhaps he should not be so exposed in the center of the room. He listens for a response from the minstrel as he takes Tyra by the hand back to where he was sitting. "Fair lass can you fill my glass once again?" He stares at her walking back thinking what a fine catch she would be.
The door creaks open as Ulah watches a robed figure enter and sit down. She takes her hood off and Ulah lumbers in his seat putting the hood fully over her face. Not exactly knowing what to think about the new patron. Thinking that she also looked familiar. Perhaps everyone was starting to look like people form his past and his continued nightmares. The girl was defintely ravishing which made him more upset for not being able to remember if he had known her or not.
Tyra returned with a full tankard and Ulah's face seemed to somehow relax. He thought of the one time he had seen her thigh and the treasure that lay within her skirt when she had slipped in front of him several years ago. She had definitely grown in a fine buxom young lady.
His hand tightened on his short sword again, not being certain of what to make of the lot that had gathered here tonight.

 

[belic]

mescal

A mountain of a man walks into the room. He stands by the doorway as his eyes adjust from the outside. As his eyes become more accustomed to the light, his eyes narrow. He moves his hulking seven foot body across the room. The pommel of his sword sticking up just over his right shoulder. His eyes are locked on one individual. He stops at the table and sits down across from Trysteae.

"Haven't seen you for awhile. Not since you bolted the last time we were called on for a job."

Mescal lays a golden hilted dagger on the table. His eyes lock with Trysteae's. His grin become wider and turns into a smile.

"So what do you say?"

 

[DreamGrrl]

Trysteae

One narrow ebony eyebrow flings upwards. The face remains unlined, even as a smile tugs at the corner of crimson lips.

”To you?” She asks softly, politely, her head tipped to one side.

Her long fingers begin unlacing the ties of one glove. With swift, efficient movements she strips the leather casing off her hand, exposing crimson nails. Her hand flashes across the table and snatches up the dagger. She lifts it high in the flickering light and examines it carefully.

“Well, the answer to you is always no, Mescal. You should know better.” Her tone of voice is teasing, but laced with an iron-edge. She runs a thumb slowly along the glittering edge of the blade.

“Now as to your other question, I’ll certainly think about it.” Soft, tinkling laughter spills through the room as her fist suddenly arcs down, burying the dagger’s blade into the scarred surface of the table.

“Something to drink, my old ... friend?” she murmurs.

She tugs loose the ties to her cloak, letting it drape across the back of her chair. Her narrow shoulders seem disproportionate to the much larger figure that eased through the door earlier. She shakes loose her waist-length curls and tosses them negligently behind her. She gestures imperiously once more, her scarlet-tipped nails glinting in the flickering light.

 

[DeliciousMaiden]

Tyra

”Slave, how does that song go?”

Tyra’s chuckle turns to laughter as the minstrel begins to sing, the strange soprano voice and muddled lyrics uniquely apt.
As the renditions cease, she hears Ulah continue to question, but for now violence seems averted.

"Fair lass can you fill my glass once again?"

Tyra nods and glances down at the minstrel.

”And a drink for you and your … slave Sir … “

She teases lightly before turning to fetch the order, noticing belatedly that a woman had entered whilst her attention was otherwise diverted. Her friendly smile freezes as another newcomer enters: The man is tall, strong and somehow intimidating. With a nervous glance, Tyra returns to the crowded table and sets down the drinks as required: More ale for Ulah, the juice and spirit for the minstrel and an additional drink for the woman seated beside them. With a smile she excuses herself and turns towards the woman’s table, only to note that the man has joined her. The summons is unmistakeable. She cannot avoid crossing over to them and wonders at her sudden instinct to flee. Almost laughing at her strange reaction, Tyra walks over and stands demurely before her new customers.

”How may I be of service…?”

She asks softly, her eyes moving to the man and then quickly back to the woman who beckoned her over.

 

[patrick1]

ish the minstrel

What a kindly wench. He sups a little of the slave's drink. Well, it's bad for slaves to get over-stimulated.

It's bad for masters to be over-stimulated in charge of slaves.

Bah: chance 'd be a fine thing.

Head down, Ish. There's a heavier atmosphere descending on the place. Look inconspicuous and try and think up some names for - what did that bloke call her? - Tyra. He takes another sup of the slave's drink for inspiration, makes sure the dulcimer is safe in case he nods off - for he knows himself well enough to know that's odds-on - and begins to write on a notepad in the corner of his mind.

Tyra...fire, a

Tyra...wire? hirer?

He sneaks a glance at the lass, hurrying about her business, then closes his eyes to concentrate better. Ah yes. Tyra...desire her...that's more like it, Ish.

His breathing becomes a little heavier. He's not asleep, no. Tyra...desire her...with my lyre I...inspire, I...send fire through her...Mmm, mmmm...not asleep, noooooo....Just travelling through magical places. Where the sexy slaves love to hear you snore...

 

[Nightsworn]

Ulah

Thud.

Ulah looked up at the two newcomers wondering what that sound was. There was a gold hilted dagger stuck in the table. Ulah's eyes lit up. Perhaps that dagger tied in with his mission. The inlay of the gilding looked very close to the house insignia he was looking for. He looked in interest at the two peoples actions. They seemed to be partners, either currently or in the past.
Ulah's eyes were not shifting now, they were very intently looking at the table as he strained his ears to hear their conversation.
If only that damn minstrel would shut up.

 

[Zarai]

I relaxed visibly as the drow's attention became focused on the new couple, and when I glanced at them, my brows furrowed slightly as they took in all the details. Noticing Tyra's body language has changed subtly, she keeps a casual gaze in their direction as she drinks, chuckling again at the new song the minstrel chose.

Glancing at the couple as she hears a thud, she stares at the dagger for a moment, her eyes sweeping up to the beautiful woman once again, something in the air causing her to shiver, her arms and flat stomach left bare by the soft, tight brown leather halter she is wearing. Attributing the shiver to that and nothing more, she tears her gaze away and looks to the minstrel, grinning when she sees he is asleep, and resisting the urge to reach over and poke his invisible slave.

 

[DreamGrrl]

Re: Tyra

”How may I be of service…?”

Trysteae lowers her slender eyebrow and turns to beam an altogether too-radiant and too-white smile at the serving girl. She looks almost childish as she rests her chin in her palm and cocks her head.

"Well, I would love a glass of red wine - given you have any. I am sure this establishment is well accomplished enough to boast of such provision." Her smile turned a shade darker. "For my ... friend here," she gestures loosely at Mescal. "Mayhap something hot and fresh to eat - maybe still bloody, I think he likes that - and the biggest cup of the coolest draught on tap."

She sits back, chuckling under her breath as one slender fingertip idly traces the dagger's beautifully wrought handle.

"Mmm. So what, exactly, are you dragging me into this time?"

 

[Nightsworn]

Ulah watched the others in the room to see if they were all looking at the dagger too. The minstrel and his slave had apparently passed out.
The girl's eyes seemed to be transfixed on the dagger as well. Tyra seemed to be her bubbly self not paying too much attention to the jeweled object.
It seemed to me that the dagger was a precious gift given to the ruling family of Xhand, but that was several weeks journey from here. Surely, no one would have the audacity to still such an object, well no one but myself. Snickering, he strained to hear what indeed was planned this time.