Gonna give it a lil try- RP

3 Mirtul- 1370 DR

On the shores of the Moonsea, a city with many colored roofs stood vigilantly, as the city itself, having been since before the Dale Reckoning, had done for many years. The different districts in the vigilant city each had their own color roof, depending on their function within the city. It had stood that way for a thousand years. In particular the red roofs were found in the adventurers district. In that district was a tavern called the Berserker's Festhall.

It was a couple days after the festival of Greengrass. Most of the locals had blown their meager savings during the holiday, and were still recovering before their next day off. The tavern was somewhat quiet, but not really, as it continued to live up to its name. Some adventurers had congregated here after arriving in town, some after getting their reward, to drink and to celebrate, and in some cases to get into fistfights. Given the chaotic nature of the place, there were usually armed guards from the Diamond Legion in the bar itself, mostly on duty, ready to step in if anything got too rough. They were not generally messed with as well due to their habit of parading troublemakers through the streets, sometimes without their hands or their heads.

The rowdy attitude of the tavern, then, took a goodnatured bent, and for that, Teroc, the Bartender/Owner, was grateful. He looked like a barbarian, probably because he was, although he was a bit older than most barbarians one would see. He was still huge, although it was safe to assume that he had even more muscles as a younger man. His hair was white, and half of his face was covered in some sort of indecipherable tattoo. He regularly ran, competed in, and won contests of strength with the patrons, and was beneficent enough to let them have an ale to soothe their wounded pride, half price.

Ian Annatar sat in at a table in the tavern staring at his meager meal and sighed. It had been two months since he had fled Thay. He had been moving day and night, and this was as far as he had gotten. He knew he should keep going, but he was tired. He had arrived in time for the Greengrass festival. While it had lightened his mood a bit, when your short on coin festivals aren't as fun as advertised. Still, the festival was over, and it was time to make some decisions.

Procampur, actually most of the Vast, had a reputation for being adventurer friendly. Adventurer? A word he never really associated with himself. Still with few traditional skills, and no master, the young spellcaster knew he would have to reevaluate his career options. Master Armidius had often spoken quite fondly of his old adventuring days. At least until his murder. When he closed his eyes he could still see the spell duel. He had always assumed that his old master had power, but he had no idea how much! It hadn't been enough though.

Ian's thoughts drifted back to the present. As he sipped his ale, hoping to make it last as long as he could, he scanned the room. He had no idea how to go about being an 'adventurer'. He had consulted the cards this morning, and they had led him here to the Berserkers Festhall. That is 'if' he had read them right. The cards could be tricky at times.

The mage was not the only patron there that day. Tristian Bailey sat in his usual spot, as he had for the past few months since his proposal to one of the young noble women was rebuffed. Teroc would tease him every time he went to refill his stein, hoping to ease his misery, but probably prolonging it instead.

There were a dwarf and a sea elf having good-natured, lively conversation around a table near the bar. The dwarf, completely covered in armor, never took of his helmet, even when he drank. He just poured the ale right through the eye slot for his full helm, making one imagine that it was a little too big. He wore the holy symbol of Grumbar while the sea elf wore the holy symbol of Istishia. She had turquoise hair and light blue skin, wearing very little, and not noticing the stares of other patrons. Her trident was propped against the table, with the tines pointing down but that did not make it look any less menacing.

Near the open area often used for contests and concerts was a large table with what seemed to be a small class of Diamond Legion soldiers talking with a Lady who did not seem in any way to be more than ordinary. She was lecturing them about the proper way to catch a pickpocket, and exactly what to look for when watching crowds for them. With them at the table was a rather ugly but clean brown haired man with a determined and intelligent look about him wearing studded leather armor, with two daggers strapped to each thigh.

Alone at the bar was an odd looking Halfling with a katana, wearing strange red armor. He wore his hair in a topknot and it was long, straight, black and was obviously well taken care of. He nursed his pint, looking rather depressed.

Finally there was a man sitting near the door who was dressed very strangely. He kind of looked like a half elf, but then again, he did not exactly look human or elven. The most interesting thing that caught the eye about him was that he had a very small black something about the size of a copper piece that normally floated above and around his head. It looked like a hole that simply ate the air as it floated through it. The smoke from the fireplace and candles swirled toward it throughout the entire room, albeit very slowly. The other odd thing is that the man would order drinks, and the spot would descend into the glass, suck out all the liquid at a regular drinking pace, and then resume its orbit around the man’s head. Evidently he had been coming for quite some time, because Teroc served his drinks, and never took a second look at the strange apparition.

As Lady Ta’Marilyn Ahnalisa Amerilliss Mour set foot on the docks at Procamper many thoughts filled her head. It had been nearly 5 years since she had left for life as an acolyte in the temple of Sune in Daerlun. 3 years ago she had been called by the goddess herself to serve as a noble warrior and uphold the cause of love and beauty throughout the land of Faerun. Now she was setting foot in her hometown once again. Her training as a Paladin was over and she even had a faithful squire accompanying her now. Her mentor at the temple had told her she was ready to spread her wings and defend the causes of the goddess throughout the rest of the world and so Lady Ta’Marilyn decided what better place to start than in her hometown of Procamper.

Procamper was known for its heavy traffic of adventurers and as Lady Ta’Marilyn had received no specific quest from the goddess herself, she figured it to be well to go to a place where she may be able to do some good, or hear of a place where some fair maiden (or man) may require her assistance. And, of course, it did not hurt to visit the family while she was in town, and there was that chance that she might have to run into that certain someone…

The young paladin quickly dismissed the very thought from her head. She shook out her wavy auburn tresses and directed her squire, Daisy, to the location of the best Inn in town. Now that she was ashore her first priority was to wash and dress in clean clothes before doing anything else. As much as she took pride in her armor and other traveling garb she was ready to shed the weight and show off some of her more complimentary features. The sapphire gown and silver cloak do just the trick. She told Daisy of her choice in garments hoping that the outfit she wanted wasn’t buried to deeply in the packs her faithful horse, Diana, carried.

Lady Ta’Marilyn’s snow white mount snorted impatiently, as if ready to be off on dry land again. Narcissus, the beautiful Lipizzaner was quite spirited at times but Lady Ta’Marilyn loved her for it and hoped that the horse would never be completely broken of that spirit. As she swung her leg over Narcissus’ back she could not help but get excited to be in the wondrous city of Procamper once again!

The Weary Prince was a lavish and expensive inn, run by the portly Grwr Cullough. A pleasant man, but his eyes gleamed most brightly when the gold coins were placed into his meaty palm.

Daisy saw to it that the horses were stabled and would be brushed and fed by one of the more competent stable boys, then heaved her lady’s luggage up three flights of stairs to their room. Her blonde ringlets hung heavy with perspiration once she was finally able unpack the necessary items. Lady Ta’Marilyn was in her bath, scrubbing away the dirt from their short sea voyage, while the halfling hung up the sapphire gown and the silver cape, smoothing out the wrinkles of the road.

One of the services that had been included in the room fee, was an attendant who would heat water for the baths, but the halfling waved the young woman away brusquely. She alone knew exactly at what temperature the lady liked her bath, and she wasn’t about to let some servant muck up her mistress’ first experience back home!

Daisy Underbough had met her lady almost three years ago now, while on a shopping expedition. Her family was from Seaspring, a small riverside village just west of Daerlun, and Daisy would occasionally make a run to the ‘big city’ for any supplies they might need. She was in a tavern having a modest meal when Lady Ta’Marilyn walked in. The halfling had never seen such a radiant woman in all her born days, and she had almost choked on her turnip! Introduction was out of the question though. Humans usually didn’t even realize she was there, let alone that she was a full grown halfling and not some child with large piteous brown eyes. Humans had a tendency to see only what they wanted to see, but Daisy was usually able to see the truth of someone upon meeting them. When one of the inebriated men from the tavern approached the lady’s table, the halfling saw the trouble before it occurred. Though the paladin-in-training looked as if she was perfectly capable of defending herself, Daisy didn’t feel that she should have to! She had gotten up from her seat and moved toward the man, but not soon enough. In his stupor he had knocked over her glass of wine all over her gown! The woman was stunned and horrified, and the halfling was furious. She hopped up onto one of the chairs at the lady’s table, and then onto the table itself. “You drunken LOUT!” She screamed into his face as stared stupidly at what he probably thought was a seven-year-old girl. “You have RUINED the lady’s dress!” Then with a strength that no seven-year-old could muster, the halfling had slapped him so hard across the face that he fell backwards.

After that first meeting, Daisy made frequent trips into Daerlun to visit Ta’Marilyn. When the lady’s training was finished and she was ready to head out to adventure, the halfling could not bear to be forever parted from her good friend, and decided to leave hearth and home to follow the woman she had come to respect and love so deeply.

The paladin had completed her bath and after helping her get dressed, Daisy went to clean up a bit herself as the lady spent her usual fussing time in front of the mirror. She washed herself up and put on a set of practical traveling clothes, then set about polishing Ta’Marilyn’s armor while she finished fixing her hair.

On the way to the inn, the lady had mentioned visiting a tavern she knew of called the Berzerker’s Festhall. The halfling thought it sounded like nothing more than a heap of trouble, but she kept her opinion to herself. After all, this was Ta’Marilyn’s hometown. The contented sigh issued by the paladin was Daisy’s cue. She sapphire gown was one of the lady’s favorites. The one she wore when she wished to make the best first impression. It hugged every curve just enough to be enticing without being indecent, though the neckline plunged a bit too deeply by the squire’s thinking, but again, she kept her opinion to herself. “You look ravishing as always!” Daisy smiled affectionately and climbed up to stand on the bed so she could reach her lady’s hair. Tucking a stem of tiny white yarrow flowers behind Ta’Marilyn’s ear, she hugged her neck. “Should I ready the horses, m’lady?”

The dwarf sat atop a barrel nearly as tall as he was, the tight splint mail sagging his body like a large sack of potatoes. In fact, the way in which his hips rested so far to the front of the improvised seat made it so his head turned at an awkwardly uncomfortable angle while leaning against the stone-washed building. A pair of bandoliers lined with crossbow bolts criss-crossed his chest. Broad legs dangled lazily a good two feet from the ground, swaying a bit side-to-side with the noticeable breeze coming in off the water. Thick, bushy black eyebrows shaded eyes the color of midnight within deep sockets that flanked a wide, flat nose. Very little skin presented itself for viewing beyond the nose, high cheekbones, and a small triangular wedge of forehead sneaking out between hair that fell to either side like draping curtains, but what could be seen was weathered and tough from exposure to sun and wind. A long, shaggy beard--the crowning achievement of any dwarf!--cascaded like a sable waterfall the length of his torso, or would when he stood, but currently it fell away to the left of his body and down along the barrel. Bronze and silver rings decorated the trophy beard, as well as a single strap of green-dyed leather that bunched a central portion of it.

Slouching as he was, his breathing took on a loud, rhythmic pattern comparable to snoring, which caused most passers-by to believe the dwarf asleep. Those dark, sunken eyes saw clear and sharp the happenings about him, however, including the small, makeshift table--comprised of a wide, flat board set up on a couple barrels much like the one he currently planted himself upon--across the way. Behind it lounged a tall, lanky weasel of a man whose face sported a pointed nose, jutting chin, and beady eyes. A skin-tight leather cap covered his bald head, and he eagerly watched the elderly man concentrating on the trio of walnut shells spaced evenly apart on the table while nervously ringing his hand. The old one reached down at one of the shells, prompting a subtle grin from the weasel, which, subsequently, halted the wrinkled hand. Hesitantly, the hand shifted to the middle walnut shell, and the sly grin vanished. It finished progressing down to the table, then, and lifted the shell, revealing nothing beneath. Quickly, the weasel scooped up the two copper pieces laying on the table's edge, though his countenance expressed only sympathy for his player.

As the elderly fellow's head slumped forward, his shoulders drooping down in despair, the dwarf hopped off his barrel-seat, snatched up the magnificent crossbow propped between it and the wall, and marched purposefully across the thoroughfair. He grasped the old one's arm before the man could meander away defeated; at the same instant, the weasel noted him, and chirped, "Greetings, friend! Care t' try your luck at--"

The sudden appearance of a downward slicing axehead silenced the weasel's blathering, and found him leaping backward, as his board caved at the middle, walnut shells jumping.

"Foul beast!" the affronted cried. "What's the meaning of this?"

"Quiet yer tongue!" the dwarf shouted back in a grizzled tenor, thrusting the head of the hand axe menacingly toward the weasel's chest. Those bushy black eyebrows closed together like colliding storm fronts; that weathered face turned beat red with sudden rage. "Lucky I ain't carvin' ye up fer fish bait, ye damned rodent! This 'ere place used t' be respect'ble afore the likes o' yer kind showed up! Used t' be me kin could mine this whole damned area without puttin' up with th' likes o' ye! We let one o' ye bast'rds in outta th' kindness o' our hearts, an' like damned rodents ye just kep' comin'! Worse 'an orcs, ye be!

"Well, I got no choice but t' put up with yer stinkin' smell now, but I ain't gotta roll o'er while ye cheat yer own folk outta hard earned wages." he stepped forward, lifting the axehead up to tarry inches from the weasel's terrified visage. "Ye'll give back what ye took from this poor fella, an' then some if ye know what's good fer ye. Then ye'll turn tail an' run, fast as yer long rat legs'll take ye, outta this city. I catch ye connin' folk again, I'll kill ye afore ye e'en know I'm there," he finished, patting the crossbow hooked to his belt.

With as much haste as the weasel could muster, he groped in his pouch and tossed a handful of copper coins onto the ground at the old man's feet. "You're a crazy damned dwarf!" he bellowed, turning about, and fleeing into the alley behnd him.

"Jus' keep runnin'!" the dwarf commanded after him. With a steady stream of grumbling curses, the dwarf slid the axe back into its proper loop at his hip.

"Thank you, kind dwarf," the elderly fellow praised, collecting the copper at his feet. "I'm in your debt, sir."

A gruff face took in the sight of the man kneeling in the dirt, and proclaimed loudly, "Bah! But yer damned right ye are! Ain't that copper hard 'nough t' get without ye handin' it o'er t' one such as 'im? Get some wits 'bout ye, man!"

With that, he turned his back on the thankful fellow and stormed away, deciding right then and there that he'd make his way to the Berserker's Festhall in the Adventurer's District for an ale. He sure as hells earned it this day!

As suddenly as he started away, the dwarf stopped. Doing an about face, he glared at the old man he'd just helped and spat a disgruntled:

"An' yer welcome!"

Ian scanned the tavern. He didn't know what he was looking for. He certainly didn't wish to make a fool out of himself. He knew he needed to find allies. Preferably allies with a line toward treasure, or money of some sort. As he looked over the motley group that had formed in the tavern, he came to the conclusion that adventurers were insane.

He saw two priests of some sort. He wasn't well versed in many of the minor gods, but they're symbols seemed familiar. They would be trustworthy he imagined, he started to head towards them when the dwarf poured an ale down the eye hole of his helmet, and his companion didn't blink an eye. The man in the corner seemed interesting, but he also seemed a mage of some sort. He didn't wear the red robes of his homeland, and Red wizards rarely used agents who were not red wizards.. but he still felt uncomfortable approaching him.

The woman instructing the group? She seemed to be law enforcment of some sort. Should be safe. However she didn't seem the 'adventurer' type. More the local guard type. Besides, he didn't know what the local opinons were on murder.

His mind flashed back to the spell duel again. Rarely a day went by when he didn't get brought back there. He never actually saw his master fall, he had been blinded by whatever spell the Red Wizard had cast to do the deed, but he felt the power. There was a blast of light and wind and Ian had been thrown to the ground. It wasn't all the Red's power either. Whatever else happened in that light, Master Armidius had responded in kind. When his vision had finally cleared, he saw the broken corpse of his master and friend.

The Red wizard didn't have much left himself. He was staggering around in a haze. Ian must have gasped or made a noise of some sort, for the Red turned suddently and saw him. As he started casting a spell toward the apprentice, Ian reacted instintively. He raised his staff and cast the simplest offensive spell he knew.

At that moment Ian knew he was going to die. There was no feasable way for him to defeat a Red Wizard of Thay. After the spell duel he had just witnessed? Well if he was going to die, he was going out on his terms. Grasping his staff in one hand he pointed at his enemy. If the mage had any defenses left at all, it would be for nothing. He felt the part of his spirit that was locked in his staff rejoin him. The runes he had spent months carving started to glow. He only had access to a small amount of energy, but he refused to adhere to his limitations. He focused and as the spell tried to go off, he held it. He forced more and more of his energy into it. The runes went from a dull glow to a bright light. The thought crossed his mind, 'If the wizard didn't kill him, odds were good he may end up doing it himself'. Still he pushed more power into it. Whether it was the light of the wand, or his head was starting to swim, he could barely see his target when he finally let the spell loose.

What should have been one bolt of pure magical energy was in reality five. They flew unerringly to his target. As Ian had prayed, they did not disipate or bounce of the wizards protections. They burned five holes straight through his chest. As the wizard died, Ian had passed out himself, wondering who that wizard was and what he had wanted?

Still, Self defense or not, he had still killed a man. He knew the penalty for killing a Red Wizard in Thay. One of many reasons he was no longer IN Thay. He didn't trust the law enforcement. Not yet. Giving the room one more look he dismissed the current occupants. Those that didn't seem outright insane, seemed a little too experienced. He didn't intend to join with people just to load their horses. There had to be someone in this town he inexperineced enough that he may still be able to impress with his meager skills.

Maybe he was being to picky. He looked at his cards again and doubted. They told him this was the place he should go, and the people he was looking for would be here. Perhaps he should leave it to chance. The very next person that walked in this tavern, he would approach.

What a joy it was to be clean again. Cleanliness was truly next to godliness! Lady Ta’Marilyn smiled affectionately at her doting squire as Daisy tucked the flowers behind her ear. “Yes, I do look rather lovely, don’t I, Squire.” She cast another glance at her reflection in the mirror as she smoothed the front of her most beloved dress. Her large violet eyes shown brightly under the cover of dark brown lashes, her skin was radiantly translucent and her lips full and pleasantly pink, as were her cheeks. For a second she thought that she spied a brown dot just to the right of her nose but on closer inspection it was just an imperfection in the glass. Lady Ta’Marilyn sighed in relief. Thankfully Sune had chosen to bless her with clear skin but being outside for extended periods of time always made her concerned about freckles.

“Hand me my scabbard, Squire,” Lady Ta’Marilyn said as she adjusted the beautifully wrought necklace around her neck. The amethyst gem that matched the hue of her eyes dangled just low enough to draw attention to one of her many good features. As Daisy handed her the scabbard she put it one. It was made of fine tan leather and on the right hip, opposite her falchion was a beautiful broach which bore the face of a beautiful lady with wild, fiery red hair. The face was carved out of ivory and the hair encrusted with rubies and garnet.

“Now ‘tis time to ready the horses, Squire, and we shall be off to Berzerker’s Festhall. What adventure awaits us there, I wonder?” As Lady Ta’Marilyn flipped her hair over her shoulder she thought to herself, I do hope that it is clean.

It did not take long to find the adventurer’s tavern. Though she had never been inside the establishment before Lady Ta’Marilyn had seen it once or twice in passing. It was nothing like what she was used to but for some odd reason she had not been able to shake the thought of going here from her mind. Maybe our Lady, Sune, has a reason for me to come here, she thought to herself as she crossed the threshold behind Daisy. She stood there for a moment, head held high, as she let her eyes adjust to the dim light of the tavern. She then scanned the place as she waltzed slowly into the room. Everything and almost everyone seemed very commonplace to Lady Ta’Marilyn, though she took notice of the beautiful sea elf priestess near the bar. She smiled slightly at yet another reminder that she was home again. It was then that she saw him, Tristan Bailey, one of the boys she knew from her childhood. There father’s had often met over a glass of fine wine and discussed the family businesses of trade and magic. Two different worlds and yet they had so much camaraderie between them, if only their children had been so well behaved. Lady Ta’Marilyn could still remember the day when she was but seven when Tristan and her cousin, Marciano, made plans to attend the spring festival. She had begged and begged to go with them knowing full well that if Tristan had not been there, Marciano would have let her come in a flash, but it was to no avail. Tristan was annoyed with her and told her that if she didn’t stop whining, not only would her behead all of her dolls but he would lock her in the closet of the scary bedroom in the east wing. Lady Ta’Marilyn had thought he was only bluffing until she found herself being dragged away by his own hands to the east wing and thrown into the dark closet where she yelled and cried till her voice was horse. It had seemed like hours until one of the maids had found her since she had missed her dinner. When she had gotten back to her room there were all her dolls strewn across her bed headless. Tristan had been a horrid boy.

But that was long past and forgiven. They were only children at the time and had behaved as children, but now it was time to behave like adults. Lady Ta’Marilyn waltzed over to where her old friend sat and greeted him with a kindly hello. “Greetings Tristan Bailey. So wonderful to see you again!”

There came a look over the face of Tristan Bailey that looked like a combination of a half dozen extreme emotions. First there was confusion, probably brought out by an unhealthy amount of drink. Then awe at the wondrous beauty before him, the likes of which either he had never seen before, or he had, and was amazed it was this close. After that, came recognition, as the soggy-brained individual made the connection in his brain of who this actually was. Then there was a look of what can merely be described as lust, which quickly waned into a look of horror. At that point, it must have been too much for him to handle all at once, for he promptly rolled his eyes and fainted.

Lady Ta'Marilyn was shocked, though she did not show it on her face. She was indeed embarrassed at her friends behavior toward her until she noticed the nearly empty mug of ale on the table. She bent over Tristan and instantly smelled the pungent odor of one who has had to much to drink.

"Squire," she said calmly, trying not to draw to much more attention to the situation, "alert the proprietor that we have a man in distress and bring me a cold cup of water."

Daisy sighed inwardly. If she had a copper for every young man who fainted after being spoken to by Lady Ta'Marilyn, she'd be able to buy her OWN horse by now!

'He's not in distress, he's overcome with beauty and ale! A combination which only EVER results in making a fool of one's self in public. You want me to get you a cup of water for him then? How about I just bean him over the head with my wineskin? You shouldn't be seen speaking with drunken sods of this sort anyhow. You're a LADY, and a representative of all that is true and lovely in this world!' The squire decided to keep that opinion to herself as well.

"Of course, m'lady," she said, bowing, and hurried over to speak to the brute of a man she referred to as the proprietor.

She hopped up onto a bar stool, and addressed the barbarian loudly enough for most of the people in the tavern to hear.

"I am Daisy, squire to the most magnificent Lady Ta'Marilyn Ahnalisa Amerilliss Mour, Holy Paladin of Our Lady of Love, defender of Beauty and Virtue! It seems this poor fellow at the bar is another of many who have been overcome by her obvious charms. If I could be allowed a glass of chilled water to bring to my lady, she would douse the man and again rouse him to his sensibilities!"

*sorry people. this was Ben. I forgot to switch profiles.

When the squire made her announcement, the whole bar, which had their attention drawn to the newcomers, laughed. It was not a cruel laughter, but it was quite obvious that the whole situation was being taken perhaps a little too seriously.

Teroc had already fetched the wake-up bucket when he saw Tristan go down. As Daisy was speaking, he had already stepped out from behind the bar and was coming their way. At six foot six and a whopping three hundred and twenty pounds, he moved surprisingly deftly, and without a sound. He arrived on scene less than a beat after the short speech was ended, and as the men laughed he offered apology for them. His voice sounded like the grating of stone on stone, and was intimidating whether Teroc wanted to be or not.

"Don't take that badly M'lady." He said with as much polish and etiquette as a person born under the open sky could muster. "It's commonly said here that 'glass is for ale, water comes in a bucket'. So I brought the bucket here intending to use it, but if you would rather have the honors, I will leave it right here, although I don't know what you want with this one, no other lady wants anything to do with him either. If you be wanting anything to drink, just shout. If I hear ya, I will bring it by."

With that, the barkeep left the bucket on the table next to Daisy and walked calmly and quietly back to his post as most of the rest of the bar turned their attention back to whatever they had been focusing on before. One halfling ronin, though, gave more attention to the newcomers than with his drink. It seemed that someone in this bar had finally caught his attention.

The dwarf nodded a greeting to members of the Diamond Legion standing guard at the Adventurers' District gate, and sauntered on past. Though not an official citizen of the city (what true dwarf would be?), he spent a great deal of time within its poorly-constructed walls to be recognized readily for admittance at the specific districts he tended to frequent. Aptly named for its primary inhabitants, the Adventurers' District fostered its fair share of taverns, armorers, weaponsmiths, weapon trainers, and other such enterprises which adventurers in general believed themselves worthy to exploit for a profit. Do to the great influx of coin flooding into the city from their own kind, most made better than average earnings, too. Hells, the dwarf had considered setting up shop as a crossbow trainer himself one day! Procampur remained a relatively clean and orderly place, despite it being a human city, and, perhaps, if he could root out some of these blasted lessers who sought to lie and cheat their way through life, there might one day be a spot for him to settle down for a bit. Thinking back to the coward he'd dealt with just a short time ago, the sharpshooter doubted there'd be time for that any time soon, however.

He grumbled loudly at the stupidity of humanity as he drove his way physically through the streets, shouldering the rat pack out of the way until finally reaching his destination: The Berserker's Festhall. Teroc boasted a stronger ale than most, if you knew him well enough, so this had become the dwarf's tankard of choice. He practically punched open the door to the grand drinking hall, and bellowed at the top of his lungs, "I been cleanin' out rats from this osquip den all damned mornin', Teroc! Time's come t' purge the rodents from me mem'ry all together! Give me a mug o' yer best, damn ye, an' stop makin' a thirsty dwarf wait fer 'is life's blood!"

He stomped right past everyone, bowling through any that might stand in his path, seeking the tender of the all-important ale!

Teroc talked over her, as all humans did, not only because of her stature but because of the company she kept. Daisy was nigh invisible when standing next to Lady Ta'Marilyn, and she preferred it that way. When no one pays you any heed, it's much easier to observe things that people would otherwise try to hide from folks of 'importance'. For instance, the way one of those Diamond Legion soldiers was inappropriately and unabashedly ogling the paladin. She fantasized briefly of putting out his eyes with the darts she carried at her belt, but knowing that would only bring trouble to her lady, decided against it.

Taking a peek at the filthsome bucket that was plopped down in front of her, the squire knew her lady wouldn't DARE touch the thing for fear of disease or worse! She made sure Ta'Marilyn was far enough away not to get wet, before she hefted the thing with both hands and dumped it over Tristan Bailey's head with maybe just a little giggle for good measure.

Tristan gasped and sputtered, and Daisy hopped off the stool and stepped aside with a bow to allow the lady to speak again to the louse if she wished.

Just then the dwarf burst through the door, full of bluster and bravado, as many dwarves she had met were, and she sighed inwardly again, wondering if there wasn't another tavern with a more savory patronage.

As soon as he made the decision to approach the next person who came through the doors, they opened. As a pretty young girl and her little sister walked in and approached her boyfriend, Ian's head dropped to the table in disappointment.Finally, he simply decided that he had made a mistake and was in the wrong place. He determined to finish his ale and leave this place behind him.

Suddenly the little girl stood up on and addressed the barkeep. Something about her composure caused him to study her a bit more. She claimed to be a squire of whom he had guessed was her older sister. 'Ta'Marilyn Ahnalisa Amerilliss Mour' he mouthed the words a couple of times in astonishment. He had spells with fewer command words, and were easier to pronounce. She also proclaimed that the lady was a Paladin! She didn't look like any paladin he had ever heard of, but she did carry a sword. Perhaps the 'next person to walk through the door' wasn't such a disaster after all.

He stood up, dusted some of the dirt off his coat and made his way over to the ladies. As he got closer he watched the younger one dump the bucket of water on the drunk man. There was 'something' about her. He wasn't sure what it was, she looked about 7 or 8 years old, but acted much older. He had the same feeling when Master Armidius used to test him with Illusions. 'Something' was off and his curiosity demanded him to solve the puzzle. Then he noticed that she was barefoot, and something clicked. He smiled a little to himself. He hadn't much experience with halflings, but he was fairly certain this was one.

The magus walked over toward the two ladies, when he heard the dwarf burst into the tavern. He seemed upset about something, but with dwarves it was hard to tell. At least this one seemed a bit more stereotypical. Glancing back at the other dwarf in the tavern still drinking through his helmets he just shook his head. He wasn't sure how to approach a paladin. Especially one that looked like that. He probably should speak to her assistant, squire, servant, whatever the official term was. However he had decided to talk to the next person through the door, and that was Lady Ta'Marilyn Ahnalisa Amerilliss Mour. He quickly decided on a compromise.

"Good afternoon Ladies," he addressed them both at once. " I'd like to introduce myself. My name is Ian Annatar."

”No, now listen...! ” The opposing guard cut her off again in his own quick paced voice, serving up arguments with the speed of lightning, leaving no room in between the sentences for arguments. Kara tossed her arms out from her sides in an exaggerated gesture to plow into his steam of words, “What do you expect us to do Thomas?!” she argued. “If the Landlord says the owner took his chickens, then this is where we go. If this closes down your favorite hangout, then that is not my problem.”

She turned her head quickly from the small group of guards, as a sign of closing, glancing at the innkeeper and giving the rest of the room a scan, testing if her words would even survive mere seconds in their own power. Thomas swiftly resumed his relentless defense of the innkeeper, stoutly, with all fear of reprimands blanked from his mind.

‘What a hole’. Already as the thought had entered her mind, her eyes fell on the exquisite woman who strode into the tavern as if it had been a festive hall for the high bloods. Lavish in dress and with a child in front of her. Who would bring children to a locale such as this?

“…And he still has half the henhouse left!!”, Thomas voice cut into her observations.

“Thomas, you’re gonna have to pipe down cause there’s kids here. We don’t want to make a scene, gods know there are many that wouldn’t like it. We haven’t even started emptying out this place and already someone is fainting over by... that place.” She pointed loosely in the direction of the door. “I don’t care if he stole one or a hundred chickens, you go back there, and you haul that six…eight… whatever(!) foot keeper over here, understood?”

She rested back against a vacant chair with an expectant look and waited as Thomas seemed to slowly resign to the fate that was the line of authority. With an indignant sniffle he began to make his way towards the innkeeper, nearly tripping over the appraising short one who was trying to aid the baffled man on the floor.

Hired hands, they were the worst. All morals and no brains. What would they do the day they actually had to slay someone? She’d have to ask the Alaric for a lot that wouldn’t fall over if there wasn’t any beer left.

The commotion that the young paladin had hoped to avoid was erupting all around her. Why could people not be more civilized, she could not understand. Life outside the temple was going to take some getting used to, that was for sure. She stood up as her faithful squire doused her old friend in cold water in hopes to sober him up. She was about to speak with him again when she was addressed by another, a very plain man, with short back hair and a well trimmed beard.

"Good afternoon Ladies, I'd like to introduce myself. My name is Ian Annatar."

As Lady Ta'Marilyn looked up she found that she was looking him right in the eyes. As their eyes met his cheeks started to blush and his gaze faltered. He seemed to be rather a weak man...but who was she to judge at first appearances?

"Greetings, Ian Annatar. I am Lady Ta'Marilyn Ahnalisa Amerilliss Mour, Paladin of Our Lady Firehair, the goddess Sune, in all her glorious beauty. I see that you are eager to speak with me so I ask that you would excuse me but a moment."

With that she turned her attentions back on the soggy Tristan, propping himself up in the puddle on the floor. "Old friend," she said with concern, "I pray that you would go home and clean yourself. Then may we meet again during more fortunate circumstances." And with that she took her leave of him.

Turning back to Ian she said, "Squire, this man, Ian Annatar wishes to speak with us."

As he heard the dwarf shouting Teroc instinctively reached for the big mugs, and for the beechwood keg. Filling the mug to ensure the proper amount of head, he was sliding the ale down the bar into the space where Kiln would sit, for the precise moment at which he would sit down. He then filled another and walked down to where he was at and replaced the mug as soon as Kiln had finished the first.

"Good to see you Kiln. I was beginning to think it would be slow, but you walked in and doubled my business. Don't you dare worry, I will keep 'em coming."

Tristan brushed the water from his eyes with his hands. He looked at himself and found truth in the Lady's words. He was a mess. He got up and sped out of the tavern without a word. He had already made the situation as bad as it could be for him. How embarrassed he would be if anyone else had heard of what happened. He needed to clean up, sober up, and be a man that would someday be worthy of a woman like her. He had much to do.

Kiln chugged the first down within a heartbeat's time, and slid the mug across the bar for the tender while accepting the second gladly. "Always 'appy t' oblige ye, lad," he grinned, white suds splattered down his sable beard. The dwarf tossed a thick, stubby thumb over his shoulder to indicate those behind him. "Nay got th' same rabble 's always traipsin' 'bout, eh? Some things don't change, though! Damned rodents don't know 'nough t' get outta a workin' dwarf's way!" With that, Kiln guffawed to near full expenditure of the air in his lungs.

Suprised, Daisy spun around on her heel when Ian addressed them, and she cursed herself silently for not noticing the man's approach.

The dark blue coat he wore reeked of the road, and the tightness around his eyes told the story of a man who was no stranger to anxiety. By the look of him, he hadn't had a good meal in many days. As the squire looked him over, she noticed the ebony walking stick he carried. It was a few inches taller than herself, and polished with such care that she felt if she got closer she might just see her reflection. It seemed strange that a man wearing such road-weary clothes would take such good care of a stick, and Daisy was just about to step a bit closer to get a better look at it when the paladin spoke at her.

"Squire, this man, Ian Annatar wishes to speak with us."

'No, m'lady, he doesn't wish to speak with 'us', he wishes to speak with the vision of beauty that stands before him, but he is obviously too bashful to address you alone. He probably wants a gold piece to buy a few good meals to fill his empty belly, and since it is obvious you are of noble blood, and a female, he probably believes that you, with your soft woman's heart, will give handouts to all poor men in need!' Daisy kept that opinion to herself.

Climbing up onto a stool so the poor man wouldn't strain his neck looking down at her, the halfling sat with a huff and wiggled her toes at him before speaking.

"Good afternoon sir, I am Daisy Underbough, squire to the Lady Ta'Marilyn here, with whom you are no doubt already smitten. It will be easier on your constitution to address your questions to me, and I shall pass them on to my lady if you so choose. If you somehow are able to garner my lady's favor, she may choose to speak with you directly."

She fiddled with her fingernails, looking down at them a bit as she spoke, as if she had delivered this line a hundred or more times.

After concluding the recitation, Daisy turned her cherubic face up at him and smiled disarmingly. "So! What can the lady help you with, my good sir?"

Teroc saw Thomas coming with his tail between his legs. "Will it just be the ale, or will you be wanting some food for the crew as well?" He set six mugs down, holding three handles in each hand.

If you somehow are able to garner my lady's favor, she may choose to speak with you directly.

He raised one eyebrow at that. This was going to be an interesting conversation. It appeared that he was correct in his thoughts that he should address the squire, but she seemed to believe he was merely some smitten fool. A look around the tavern explained why. She was quite beautiful and the stares from the rest of the patrons here indicated that she was probably quite used to smitten fools approaching her. Well fool he may be, but he wasn't about to let a pretty face rob him of all his reason.

What could he remember about Paladins? They could detect Evil Intent. No danger there. Could they detect lies? He didn't think so. Regardless he would have to watch what he said carefully. Try to control the situation. That's what mages do isn't it? 'Play the Game' as Master Armidius used to say. Never let them know exactly 'what' your capable of.

"Greetings Lady Daisy," he addressed the halfling with a stiff bow. "If you would be so kind as to inform the Lady Ta'Marilyn Ahnalisa Amerilliss Mour..." he said with perfect pronunciation, "that I have it on good authority that there is an adventure in both your futures and that I would like to offer my services."

The squire's mouth dropped open slightly in surprise as the man spoke her lady's name. It had taken her months to get that just right! Anyone with such impressive articulation must be watched carefully...

She looked up at him with a bit more suspicion that she had before. "My name is Daisy, and I am not a Lady. By addressing me as such, you are casting a shadow upon those of truly noble birth, and I would thank you not to insult the LADY Ta'Marilyn so!" The halfling sniffed at him and arched an eyebrow as she continued. "I'm not sure how you claim to know m'lady's future, but if there is to be adventure in her future, that is her choice alone to make."

"Now then..." She folded her hands neatly in her lap and kicked her dangling legs in the air a bit. "Perhaps you can tell me what 'services' you would be able to provide the lady!"

Daisy figured this aught to be good! This fellow had managed to deliver one of the more interesting pick up lines she'd yet to hear, and she always did appreciate creativity!