The last rays of the the sun escape over the horizon, and a figure in long, burgundy colored robes and edged with gold walks into the Shady Corners, looking over a map. The person is hooded, with a long orange beak extending from his cowl. Sashes are wrapped around his waist, one of green, with red and gold sashes on top of the it. He is protected by a silver pauldrons, which are edged with copper, and bear a strange symbol. As he walks over to the bar, one could hear the sound of a chain shirt jingling with his steps. Once within the building fully, a long bastard sword is reveled across is back, its blade covered by a black scabbard, but a circular red crystal lays on the joining of the blade to the handle, and the quillons sprout from ether side. He seats himself at the bar, and in a thick accent, speaks to the barkeep: "Excusa meh, Iz zees ze town of Jaztrey?"
"No, I do vome here villingly. There hiis....somevahn I am looking vor." The man moves his hood off the rest of his face, and the beak continues back to reveal a feathered head. There are blues and greens, with long swordfeathers coming from the middle of his forehead, swooping back over the back. Black eyes look at the urodeq. "Vell, two people. One Angori, on a Gnome."
"A shame they should end you here..." Katri replied. The woman took in his features, face remaining easily empty of emotion. Lightly, her fingertips drummed at the wooden top of the table before her as she continued, "Who is it that you seek? There is a chance, albeit slimmer than it once was, that I might aid you."
"This." She said with a certain tone of disdain in her considered words, "Is not my home and will never be such. I know of Zwey, but I have not seen him for a little time now."
Taking a drink from her flask, she paused to think. From her bag, she pulled a small book and flipped through it. "No, I do not believe I know the one you called Beiro. As for this place? It is a den of misfortune and an adventurers' haven for those foolish enough to wish for such idiotic things as false glory among a crowd of fools. If I knew why I could not stay away from this damned place? I would alter it and leave. Armies, undead, liches, Immortals... This is a cursed land."
Syra walks into the tavern and heads straight for the bar, she orders a Rum. Noticing Katri and an unfamiliar face she makes her way over. "Hello Katri" Her vice was low and her eyes were pinned on the unfamiliar face, she watched the Ixifar with caution before speaking again "I don't believe we have met. Who might you be?"
The ixifar chuckles, "Vis land sounds like a challange. I vine place vor one to test thier passion, to grow thier powva. Vhy vould you vish to flee such a place? To live avay, growing veak and old, let peace take you. Vat is not living!" The Ixifar shakes his head, "Vank you vor you information, I will continues vy search tomorrow. But vor vow, I vill sit, and drink!"
The Ixifar turns to the elf, and a look of shock come over his face. "My dear, vat has happend to your eye. Have you zought a zhaman? Oghk, how do you zleep at night, you poor woman."
Syra eyed the Ixifar as he talked about her eye and being a 'poor woman' her mouth pursed into a thin line as she glared at the man who just insulted her. "What has happened to my eye is none of your business. You aren't very good at making a good first impression" She took a sip from her drink then continued "Who or what is it that you search for?"
Nasher shoved his way through the door, shoving his way past a poor drunken farmer that had been wobbling by the door. He walked inbeween the people of the group and reached over the bar, helping himself. "Hey Pidgeon, you's gots a things sticking out your face," the goblin made sure to point out, verbally and physically. He got very close to poking the beak. He decied better and instead popped the bottle and took a long drink of his bottle, still standing in the center of the group.
"Captain, " The Uordeqi woman nodded with a smirk.
A slow, cold smile settled on her face when she turned back to the Ixifar, "When you can fight for your own home against your own home because you live within a hive of murderous theives and slavers, then speak of truly living. Never knowing who might betray you next, who you may find yourself facing in a battle, be it of wits or power... That is living. That is my home. Or was, and will be once more, one day. That is neither growing weak and soft, or running away and hiding. Not everyone grows their power by the sword and brute strength, oh feathered one."
She turned her own feather quill over in her hands, a pale violet light pulsing around it breifly before it withered away to nothing and the nib rusted to uselessness. Dusting off her hands she chuckled, "Some of us prefer more subtle arts."
"I am zimply vorried! Iz it an old vound at least? Anyvays, I seach for Zvey and Beiro." The Ixifar eyes the volitle elf, "Vor anger is vick, this is good, let it guide you to victory."
The Ixifar was interupted by the goblin, "Vat iz zis 'pidgeon' you zpeak of? There are not birds on my beak, gobin."
Turning from the bar, he address the Urodeq, "I know ze life of which you speak. Vy people are hunted as zlaves, taken vy the Nox. Ve are persucuted by the vollowers of Lemesin, vor our vays of freedom zeem to infurate vem on zome level. Here at least it zeems zat you are all plauged vy zome unknown evil, that can be zimply eraticated. Here, you victory can fuel your povwa, zo you may claim vater victorys vor you and your brothers and zisters."
The soft sound of tinkling coins could be heard from afar, steadily going louder, as Adrivvi approaches the tavern from the woods, gracefully hopping up the stairs and inside, the sound of her coins only growing in volume. Her large, lilac eyes surveyed the room at large, taking note of the current occupants. A soft scowl twisted her large lips as she set eyes on the bothersome elf chit from earlier, though she quickly dismissed her from her mind when her eyes took in the sight of another Ixifar.
She walked across the room, coins tinkling with every sway of her hips, until she'd approached the group at the bar. Upon hearing mention of the Nox, and the taking of Ixifar as slaves, she happened to miss a step, faltering for just a moment as her blood ran cold. She couldn't help but to check her right arm, to make sure that the bracelets were there to cover the numbers burned into her golden skin. No, no, you couldn't see them. No one knew. Adrivvi reminded herself to breathe, and walked on as if nothing had happened. "Hullo." Her greeting was lackluster, to say the least, one hand propped on her hip as she shifted her weight, the sound of her belt not ceasing it's noise. Curiosity might have driven her to inspect the new Ixifar, but the more time she spent in Jastrey, the more her patience lessened, and thus her manners fell short of what they might have been.
Nasher watched as another Ixifar walked into the tavern and towards the group. He looked down at his half of loaf of bread left. "Here yous go Bluejay. Has some Nashers crumbs of eats." He continued to spread more crumbs around the feet of the group. He made sure to drop a larger chunk at the new Ixifars feet. He didn't want to show favoritism, afterall.
The feathers stand on the head of the Ixifar, "Vu have made a very grave mistake goblin. I hope vu dont enjoy zleep, for vu will never vind peace in it again."
The Ixi's head feathers relax, and he returns his gaze to the Elf, "Vu vere called Captain, of a ship I azume? I zaw no docks walking into ze town." The ixifar's feathers droop, "It iz dizheartening to hear Brother Zvey is dead, I vill use his memory in battle to fuel me. I must vind Beiro then, zo their mother vill not kill me outright. Tovanda is very tempermental, even for angori. Vat is your name elf? I am called Ozan."
At the noise of the other Ixifar walking in, Ozan turns to face the door, to see the source of the noise. "And 'hullo' to you, my most noisy of sisters."
"I am Captain Syra Bloodbrand of the Crimson Corsairs, our docks are in a well hidden place." The Captain gave a soft grin. "I do not know of this other person you speak of but if I do see him I will send them your way." Syra's eyes grew wide as the Ixifar spoke his name, she was suddenly taken back to the smoky cabin 'Syra... Ozan...Pirates...Blood' the words filled her head. The elf closed her eyes and rubbed her hand across her face as if trying to calm her head. She then opened her eyes and looked at Ozan "Ozan? You are Ozan? I have heard of you."
Ozan raises a feathered eyebrow, "How have vu heard ov me, I have vonly just vome to town? Vat is this phrase you speak? I vink that eye needs some insvection vy healer.
The glances at the goblin, "Vu still here? Allow me to elavorate. FLEE FOR YOUR LIFE GOVLIN! Those vho insult me and my kind are prone to showing up gutted in the ztreetz for ze real beyords to veast upon, stinging vor entrials across ze gravel"
The disgusting goblin was spreading breadcrumbs, she noticed, which at first made her lips twitch towards a snarl just a bit, until he put the largest amount of all at her own feet. A growl lept into her throat before she could stop it and she punted the bread back in the Goblin's face. "Do. Not." The words came out dangerously soft, albeit between clenched teeth.
Adrivvi flicked a glance towards the elf from earlier. "Ozan?" Her eyebrows lifted up. "Didn't Tathar say his name...?" She'd been more than a little frustrated that day, mostly due to Syra's attitude, so her memory wasn't entirely perfect. But she remembered him rambling about blood and numbers, and saying the name Ozan.
The goblin cocked his his head slightly as he proccessed hat the ixifar said, disbelief that she'd order him as he did her the honor of offering food. His eyebrows furrowed into an angry scowl. He smashed a large handful of crumbs in his hands. He then stared into the ixifars eyes daringly as he tossed the crumbs at her feet. "Coo. Coo," the goblin said stifling his anger.
Syra stared at Ozan for a moment before speaking again and ignoring the Ixifar girl "I have heard your name before, I spoke to Tathar he doesn't remember much from that day but he spoke your name, and quite a few other things." Dark energy rushed through Syra's body, she took a step back from Ozan. "I don't need to see a healer, my eye is fine!" Her voice was stern as she snapped at Ozan. The Captain took another long sip from her drink, then pressed her hand to her face once more trying to calm her head.
A snarl twisted her lips and darkened her violet eyes, and she crossed her arms in front of her to prevent herself from doing anything she'd regret. "Stop, you disgusting slime." She bit the words out from behind clenched teeth.
Syra, ever the typical up her own ass annoyance, refused to acknowledge the few words she'd offered the chit. Rolling her own eyes, she flicked her gaze back towards the new Ixifar. "Pay her temper no heed, brother, she's not worth her water." The barest of smirks tilted her lips, a sparkle in her eyes.
"I'm kind ov avraid not to. I mean vu no harm Miss. But I must seek vis Tathar out, maybe he van help me vind Beiro. Tomorrow, ov course, ze trip here vas long, excitement vas few and var between. I hav vound find fellows, save the govlin" Returning his gaze to the goblin, and then to the other Ixifar.
"Vat is vor name, and vhy do vu hold voranger inside? Let it flow through you, empower your blow to the this pile of refuse. The victory vay be small, but definatly vetter than allowing him to continue to draw breath..." Ozan stand up form the bar, and draws his blade from his back, and a flash of red light starting from the crystal in the crossguard flows dont the weapon, illuminating runes along the length of the blade. "Unless, vu do not have ze ztomac for it."
"I do not know where you will find him, you may have a better chance in his cabin. I can take you there tomorrow if you would like" Syra's voice was low and dark as she spoke to Ozan. Once more Syra pressed her scared hand to her temple as the energy continued to rush through her body a pained look crossed her face. "If you will excuse me, I must sit down." The Captain walked over to the nearest seat and sat down.
Nasher's eyebrow twitched and he cocked his head even further, giving both the ixifars a look of crazed anger. Suddenly, without warning, the goblin began laughing loudly and uncontrollably. "Woodpecker thinks he can sices the Nasher into pieces!! HAHAHAHA! Maybe he more of a Vultures! HAHAHAHA!" the goblin settled his laugh before dropping the bread at the ixifar's feet. "Nasher not affeared of you's Vulture. Nasher see scarier," he said as he turned away. He began laughing again at the ixifars attempt at a threat as he walkedout the door, bottle of mead in hand.
Above the taverngoers and other shouting individuals, a weary eyed Cail sat perched on a rafter, feathers ruffling due to having been rudely awoken by the loud noises. Growing to about an Angori's size he jumps from his hidden spot and lands with a crash in the middle of everyone leaving deep gouges in the floorboards.
He stood straight, his head swiveling to look at each individual in the Shady Corners, lingering on both The newcomer and Katri for a longer moment than the rest. Closing his eyes and sighing heavily.
"I really wish I could say this more politely, but i'll just put it straight forward: Can we please keep the arguing and shouting to a minimum? Some of us have had a rough night."
Adrivvi listened to his rant about letting your rage out, rather then holding it in, her lips tilting into a frown of distaste. She didn't know how to feel about it--yes, the Ixifar believed action was always the proper choice, and it was what she had been taught growing up. But hadn't action lead her to life as a slave once? It would forever cloud her judgement in life. Rather than answer him, she simply pursed her lips as he drew his weapon, one eyebrow lifting at the color of his blade. "That...is abnormal." Careful words, as she was want to be.
And then, as if the situation wasn't odd enough, the owl man flew down and grew to a size that made her take a step to the side. Both brows shot up this time, at his request for peace. "Wouldn't an owl find more peace in the woods then in a tavern?"
Seeing the goblin leave, Ozan puts the point of his sword into the ground, and rests his hand on the pommel, before addressing the Ixifar. "It iz an old veapon, Passed down through the Gurkhas for many years. The glow is my emotion, my magic, if you will, flowing down it, ready to strike my foes dead. Now vat vas your name?
The Giant bird swooping down from the rafters took Ozan by suprise. " By ze Traveler, vat is dis? Giant owls? Zat zpeak? Vho are you, my hopeful friend?"
Syra glanced over to where Cail had landed in the crowd. "Sorry for waking you Cail." a worried look crossed her face. Once again a pain struck her but this time lower in her stomach, Syra clenched and the pain could be seen by anyone playing close attention. She took another sip from her drink and sat quietly.
Cail opened his eyes and flicked his gaze to Adrivvi, blue eyes not blinking. "Well I suppose they would have, but seeing as I was already passed out in here, it made sense just to spend the night."
Before adressing the new Ixifar his gaze settled upon Syra, saw her clench her stomach and took note before saying, "It's not a problem. Let's just keep it down for a while, shall we?"
Cail also winced as the newcomer spoke, the pounding in his head growing. Swiveling his head to look at the Ixifar, he gave him an unwavering stare as well. "I am Cail a Druid of Jastrey. No mere Owl, but a Treant in Avian form. Who, might I ask, are you?"
She shook her head at the weapon. "A sword glowing red makes me think quite terrible things, brother, you might want to work on which emotions fuel your sword." She debated his question, aware that she could continue to ignore it as if it hadn't been spoken, but even more aware that Ozan had already demonstrated terrible temper control--as she did on several occasions--and would likely only demand the information the more she withheld it. Not wanting to deal with that, she simply rolled her violet eyes and sighed. "I am Adrivvi." No more, no less, did she give him then what he had asked.
The large owl eyes focused on her made her anxious, causing her to squirm just a bit, though the coins at her hips sounded the action. "Passing out in the tavern...tch, what have you been doing?" She couldn't help it, her words were almost always out of her mouth before she could think and even the owl's unwavering stare couldn't keep her from that.
"I am Ozan Zanlisi, of ze Gurkhas. Pleazed to meet you, but I must ask, vat is a treant?"
Letting his emotions cool, the sword returns to its natural steel color. "Vhy vould I do that? Fury, anger, and Rage. These are emotions most fit for my blade. I vut my shame, my regrets here, let it vorge my edges, harden my zteel. Vhus, I can vuse my other emotions, in more....pleasent zituvations."
"I'll let you use your imagination, Adrivvi," said Cail without looking at her, his voice calm and quiet. Speaking to Ozan he said, "Treant's are treefolk. Sentient trees, if you will. Also, you're related to Zwey huh? He was a good man. Foolish sometimes, but a good man. Now, if you'll excuse me I think i'll be leaving so you all can have your discussion to yourselves again." With those words he shrunk to a small size and flew out an open window.
She lifted her eyebrows at his allusion to more pleaseant things but otherwise didn't comment on it. "If your fury is all that fuels your blade, you will quickly find yourself without it." A simple shrug of her small shoulders, and that was all she would say on the topic. She listened to Cail shrug off her question and allowed it to pass, she didn't know the Druid well enough to inquire further, and she wasn't entirely certain that she wanted to know.
"I did know Zvey, ve did zome growing up togther. Vhen his mother created ze Gurkhas, we both joined. Zince his last name vas already Gurkha, he zimply uzed dat. Ve vere battle brothers, and little Beiro follows us around, moslty poking his brother in the ass vith a svord. I just hope to bring the little bastard home."
Syra watched carefully as Cail left and Leo arrived. She then glanced at Adrivvi then to Ozan. "Sounds interesting, though I still do not know who this Beiro is." Once more she clenched and pain crossed her face and her voice was still shaky "I must be on my, if you need me I can be found in the Pirates Den by the lake" Syra stood on her feet and started to head for the door. After passing a few tables she groaned in pain and fell over. Catching herself on the edge of the table with her forearm she then rested her head against the table, a moment passed and she stood up straight once more and exited the tavern.
The sound of a squeaking cart can be heard outside the tavern, though it is much overshadowed by a raucous and quite off-key tune. It isn't too long before the singer enters the tavern.
In stumbles a gnome, his rosy cheeks blushed even further from his very visible intoxication.
"....My thooooooooooughts are on fire and my life buuuuuuuurns
Like a cold, hard wiiiiiind on a bit-*HIC*-itter sojourn
Dezends from the heav'ns and hoOoOowls to return!!!
'Mbracing the land in a long winter nocturne......"
As he sings, he swings a broad tri-cornered hat and an empty bottle of ale, and as the doors close behind him,the ground around his abandoned cart is noticeably littered with similar bottles.
Her eyebrows lifted up slightly when he mentioned knowing Zwey--she hadn't known the Angori particularly well, although he had been...kind to her, in his own overbearing way. "Good luck with that..." She was just about to make her own departure when the elf chit excused herself, stumbling and falling as she left. Unable to help herself, a loud laugh burst out of her, caught in the air for a moment, then died to a childish giggle, which she covered with two fingers over her lips. "Hehe...ahem...heh...I should be going as well. Best of luck to you, Ozan, in your attempts to find your other friend." She inclined her head ever so slightly to the other Ixifar, smiled briefly at the others present, then turned to make her way out, the sound of tinkling coins following her as she left.
Ozan noticed the drunken gnome stumbling into the bar. "Zat had vetter not be who I think it is....oh, vy ze Traveler, Tovanda is going to have my feathers." The Ixifar walks over to the drunken gnome, confirming his fears. "Little Biero, vhy in all the 7 roads are you in zuch a ztate, I just hear about Zvey, and yes I am fine. Oh, vat vould vor mother think?"
Looking back at the Bar, he spots the horn. Walking over in an apprent calm manner, his sword, dragging on the floor, held in one hand behind him, betrays his true emotion. It glows red. "Iz dat vat I think it is? Zwey's horn? Vu have some explaining to do....."
"Fine, I was given this horn by orders from Zwey himself. It allows me to talk to him." Leofrick put the horn on his side. "But where are my manners, my name is Leofrick von Engirburgh, General of the Mercenary Core of the Galimaufry. Zwey believed that the fates had something else planned for him, so he ended his life short and left us without a direction." Leofrick pulled out a flask out of his pouch and took a long swig.
The ixifar's black eyes narrow, and he reaches for the horn. Touching it, they widen, and the ixifar shethes his blade. "I vill be taking this, Zank vu vor keeping it this long. Tovanda will be glad to have it back. Zvey had good faith in hiz men." With that, the Ixifar pockets the horn, and walks towards the gnome. "Return home, Tovanda vill want to see at least von ov her zons." Ozan looks at Leofrick, "Come, take me to ze guild hall." He then walks out of the the Shady Corner.
"That is correct. You are in Jastrey." An Uordeqi accent, quite thick, flowed through slow, deliberately spoken words. Violet eyes surveyed the Ixifar from the nearest corner. "I pity you if it is this place you willingly come to."