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(OOC: This is a cliche high fantasy adventure RP, just for fun. Medieval-flavored, so no guns and such.)

The town of Barderby sits nestled in a valley between two mountains that scrape the sky. The trade road that snakes along the valley's bottom, a popular way through the mountains, is currently bustling with a wide variety of folk. Farmers from the nearby foothills are heading home after a day of selling their produce in Barderby's markers, and passersby the comfort of the town for a night's refuge. The village is a peaceful one, though that may not last long, for the shadow of Lord Azerang has begun to creep across the valley.

Like all good towns, Barderby has a tavern: the Shivering Shark. Currently the evening crowd has it packed to the gills. Torchlight dances out of the windows and onto the crossroads the tavern sits at, and every time the door swings open music and laughter and the clinking of tankards can be heard. Bustling servers carry drinks to the thirsty patrons while a pair of bards entertain in the corner, one with her voice and stomping boots and the other with a hammer dulcimer.

At once of the tables near the center of the room sits a lone man poring over a map. A huge tower shield leans against the table beside him. He aimlessly scratches his boyish nose with the tip of an inky quill, leaving a black smudge. He doesn't seem to notice. No one else sits at his table, although the tavern is quite full--there aren't many other seats available.

A girl about the same age as the man entered the tavern as she heard her favorite ballad being played before the two person act switched to a new song. The girl's name was Lyra, she wasn't of much substance but almost anyone who heard her voice or heard her play the violin she carried with her suddenly found themselves entranced but her. She wandered around trying to find a seat after purchasing some stew for her dinner.

"Pardon me sir, would it be alright with you if I sat with you here?" she would ask the man at the map strewn table. She wore an earthy green dress that spiraled around her hourglass figure, a brown leather corset that kept everything below the waist in like was the custom these days and simple flats on her feet. Her hair was the color of the moon on a cold night, her voice soft but clear and her eyes like two crystal blue lakes. She gave a small smile the the man as if begging him not to make her sit at the table next to him that was currently plagued by a bunch of rowdy drunkards.

The door opened but the frame shook when the large Trollkin knocked her head against it. She recoiled and rubbed her head and growled. She was not a woman or troll of many words. So even the door was safe from insults or any kind of wrath. her grey eyes opened and scanned the now silent room. Silence followed her through out town. Most have not seen someone her size, let alone someone of her species that did not cause trouble but silence was more than welcome. Fridgja tiptoed very carefully around the patrons, trying to avoid smacking anyone with her tail or tripping over tables, and people made sure to not get tripped on.

"Sorry."

The blue skinned woman found her seat at the bar and pushed it aside so that she may sit on her knees to reach the bar. "Mead please. Meat too." She waited very patiently for her food but in the mean time, she pulled out her pouch of money and spilled it on the counter. Those grey eyes narrowed on the precious coins and finger hovered over each. "One, two, three..."

Ivian doesn't hear the young woman talking to him at first. Only when he pauses to take a drink out of his goblet does he see her. His eyes cut to the rowdy table beside them and he returns the girl's smile, though it doesn't reach his eyes. He sweeps the map out of the way and gestures for her to sit. "Please join me," he says in a surprisingly soft voice. "I am Ivian..." After a moment, as if he forgot, he adds, "Ser Ivian of Northshield."

The entrance of the huge blue-skinned woman draws his eye, and he loosens his sword in its scabbard, though he doesn't draw it. This is a strange land to the young knight, with strange ways and even stranger creatures.

Abelith was perched on the roof of the tavern, having climbed up the side. She had a lantern next to her and was reading out of a large thick book. She would've been inside, had the noise not been too much for her sensitive ears. Hell, she was having the hardest time staying on top of the tavern. "Why do these places have to be so noisy?"She asked herself. She huffed, setting her book on the roof, pages down to keep it open. She climbed down using nearly everything as a foot/hand hold. She held her ears flat against her neck, to block out some of the noise. She poked her head through the door looking around. "COULD YOU PLEASE BE QUIET? I'M TRYING TO READ AND IT'S TOO NOISY! THANK YOU!"She shouted, before recoiling through the door and climbing back up to the roof. Had she been in her Swarm's cavern the place firstly wouldn't have been too loud to begin with, and the instant she requested they be quiet the place would've been dead silent for the rest of the night. Unfortunately this wasn't her cavern.

Along the dim lit streets a stony blue-grey bull terrier with an odd smattering of feathers, skittered from one side of the road to the other sniffing at the edges of buildings and plants. A ways behind him followed a limping elf that looked perhaps more aged than he was. In light orange robes he tried to keep up with his dog with a suspicious scowl on his face.

"Symeon." He said, only to be ignored by the canine "Symeon!" the irritation in his voice rose as the dog approached the rowdy tavern that had been audible from the other side of town. The terrier quickly approached Abelith in the doorway and stared up at her with a wagging tail, smacking the wall loudly with the wedge of feathers that clustered at the tip of his tail.

The elf arrived shortly after, out of breath and certainly not in a good mood "Apologies if my dog is harassing you- Symeon!" he hissed at the canine who looked back at him and inched into a cowering position, ears folding back and tail lowering.

"Dog?"Abelith asked. Dogs weren't found in her Cavern, and she somehow had managed to not see a single dog since she left. "What's a dog?"She asked with a confused look on her face. She quickly scrambled to the roof, before hanging down over the entrance, upside down, flipping through a book she had. It seemed to be a journal of some kind, a very fancy looking one. "Uh... nope... don't have anything in my book about a 'Dog'."She said, flipping through the pages.

Lyra let out a quick sigh of relief, "Thank you ser." she said gratefully. She watched, suddenly curious, as the map he had was hastily pushed aside for her to sit. She sat and placed her food neatly in front of her. "It is a pleasure to meet you Ser Ivian of Northshield. I am Lyra of Fells, my apologies from drawing your attention from your map. It was very kind of you to do so however." Lyra complimented. There was a faint voice calling out from somewhere above, but what it had said was lost in all the noise of the tavern.

"Not many men around these parts practice that kind of chivalry..." She said before trailing off, she too had noticed the Ice Troll walk in. But she also noticed when Ivian placed his hand upon his sword to loosen it should things turn ugly, Lyra would place her hand on his and mouth 'watch' while motioning for him to look closer.

The troll was just paying for her meal, no harm no foul. She was acting like a respectable troll and should be treated as such. Lyra then turned and proceeded to eat her stew as if nothing was amiss, upon others seeing this action from Lyra, one by one others did the same by getting on with their own business. She then pulled a small leather bound scroll with many pages rolled up within, she unlaced it and rolled it out before turning to a marked section. Upon all the pages were lines of musical notes in various arrangements and upon each page a different title. Though to the untrained eye this would all look like gibberish, to a trained eye it would look like music, but to an expert's eye it was something greater.

"Apologies. You are new around here, aren't you?" Lyra asked between one of her bites of steaming stew after she had begun eating.

Ivian waves away Lyra's thanks, though when she mentions his map his eyes stray to it again, and he opens it for her to see. It seems to be a map of the valley with a few lines marked in red, though it isn't clear what they represent. When her hand settles on his, it wouldn't be hard for her to feel how mangled the skin is, as if they went through a sausage grinder up to the elbows.

Ivian rubs his nose, unwittingly spreading the ink smudge. He glances at the commotion at the tavern's door with a furrowed brow, shoulders tense. He tries to not let his paranoia get to him and forces them to relax. He looks back to Lyra and catches a glimpse of her sheet music, but has no idea what it is. "Ah, yes," he says, running a thumb around the rim of his goblet. "I'm from Taraga. I was sent here to..." He trails off, eyeing her sidelong, paranoia stirring again. "... well, on a quest."

Meanwhile, the streets outside empty in a matter of moments, and it doesn't take long to figure out why. The thunder of marching sabatons fills Barderby's main trade road. A small squadron of men in black full-plate armor with greathelms is approaching the tavern. One flies a banner: an indigo dragon with red eyes on a black field, the sigil of Lord Azerang. There are only five, but they seem to fill the entire street. The squadron comes to a halt before the tavern. Their leader, distinguished by an indigo cloak flowing from the backs of his pauldrons, growls at Jaspur and Abelith in the doorway. "Get out of the way, knaves!"

"Knave? I'm Royalty!"Abelith said angrily. "I guess this place is much different from the caverns I guess..."She thought to herself. Unfortunately she didn't have any actual weapons on her. She learned how to fence when she was young, but her sword wasn't on her, she'd left it the cottage she was staying in. But she was easily capable of letting out a very loud ear splitting shriek if she had too.

Lyra looks upon the map, she recognised a few of the landmarks indicated there on but the rest of it was completely foreign to her, she merely smiled and nodded out of courtesy to show respect to this gentleman. His hand felt familiar to her, not that she had felt the hand in question before but that it reminded her of another's hand she had once held. In that moment she felt a twinge of sadness but quickly pushed it aside and out of mind.

She laughed a little when he had smeared the ink over his nose, she licked a corner of a napkin and scratched her nose to indicate his skin was blemished by the ink. "Do you mind if I...?" she began, this really reminded her of her old companion - but this one was a happy memory brought to the surface. If Ivian agreed she would, but if he didn't she would let him do it himself.

"Taraga..." Lyra repeated, 'Guess that is another place I should go to someday.' she thought to herself, she was currently making a traveling list for future destinations. "I'm on a quest myself, I may not look like it but mine is of a more... academic background." Lyra said as if trying to find the right wording to use, she didn't know this man well enough yet to divulge everything at once. "Maybe we could travel together a ways, at least till our paths split." She offered before blowing on the stew in her wooden spoon.

Lyra had noticed Ivian's paranoia before but had initially dismissed it as being shy, but he didn't seem shy - not exactly anyway, he was more guarded than anything else. Lyra tried to sense what was troubling him, that was when she heard heavy thundering thuds upon the ground rapidly approaching before stopping pretty close to the tavern. "Do you hear hoofbeats?" Lyra asked as if unsure what had arrived.

The large ears on the woman swiveled around picking up the various noises in the tavern, the yelling from someone outside, the whimpering of a near by dog, and the conversation near by. Her crooked nose wrinkled in frustration as she tried to focus even more on remembering the order that numbers and counting came in. She huffed a cold puff of mist through her nose as she started over again, just a little bit louder. "One. Two. Three. Four." The man and woman beside her certainly did not help her concentration.

It was the thundering of hoof beats that made the troll stand up to hear better, forgetting that the ceiling was very near by. Thump! She growled while rubbing the back of her thick skull. "Loud men come. Just when I thought I found a place they wouldn't go." She growled. The furry end of her tail fluffed up considerably betraying her stoic attitude. "Forget the food." Fridgja grabbed the coins off the counter and placed them back into the bag.

Symeon had heard the men in advance and by the time they were upon them, Jaspur was watching and weighing the situation up. A dilemma played out in his mind. He could only imagine they were here to take prisoners, cause harm...whichever. If he were wrong he could cope with having that on his conscience, but not if he had been right and not done anything. It wasn't good. He glanced quickly to Abe and then to the armor clad giants in front of him.

"Of course" he said with a fake smile "Let me get the door for you, my lords." he said and opened the door, stepping in ahead of them with his dog at his heels...unfortunately for Abelith he slammed the door shut and within moments from handle and lock to the wall the door started changing into the stone of the walls around it, sealing itself with Jaspur pressing his hands against it. He looked to the windows, but they were small and would be hard for the men outside to get through...he could focus on them once the door was done "Symeon. Prepare the patrons."

His dog turned away and darted between the tables "Armored men, weapons, prepare! Does not look good! Danger!" he barked as he leapt between the tables, one of which being the one Ivian and Lyra were sat at, and he passed very close to Fridja with his announcements...one might have had time to marvel that the dog was talking in any other situation.

"I--wha?" Ivian pulls his fingers away from his face and sees the black smear on them. His cheeks flush pink and he stammers for a moment. "No, no, it's fine..." He licks his thumb and rubs at the ink blot, only serving to spread it around on his nose further. "You're welcome to travel with me, but it may not always be safe..." He trails off with a frown. He does hear the marching, and then the trouble erupts at the door.

One of the guards raises a gauntlet to strike Abelith, but the elf magicking the door attracts his attention before he lets it fly. Their leader lets out a roar of rage. "Stop! In the name of Lord Azerang!" It doesn't take long for one of them to pull out his mace and begin clobbering the stone wall where the door had just been. If Abelith is still nearby, one of the guards would attempt to shove her out of the way, and hard. "Get the elf!"

Ivian flies to his feet, sword leaping into his hand. He stares at the feathery dog that runs up to him and begins barking warnings--literally. "Shh, be quiet," he says. "What on earth are you doing?"

Panic erupts in the tavern. Tables and chairs flip as the patrons scatter in all directions, and screaming fills the room. Some claw at the windows and others search desperately for the door that had vanished. Others yet swarm the kitchens or the stairs that lead up to the inn's rooms--anything to get out of the warpath of angry Azerang guards. Azerang guards weren't nice even on a good day, and when they were angry... well, they might decide it easier to torch the whole tavern than to actually seek out the one responsible.

There is one table of men--the rowdy drunks sitting next to Lyra and Ivian--that has a different idea. Cracking their knuckles, they begin to close in on Jaspur. "Come on," one of them growls. "Let's have it easy. They'll pay a nice sum if I... make you cooperate."

The drunks trying to circle Jaspur catch Ivian's eye. Azerang's men wouldn't let the elf live after that stunt. What's done is done, Ivian thinks. That kind of guts could be useful. He slides his left arm into his shield's enarmes and hefts it. "Be careful," he tells Lyra. "This is going to be messy." With that, he charges towards the backs of one of the men and bashes him with the shield. He's so drunk that he tips over easily and can't find his way back up.

"Alright," he calls to Jaspur. "What's the plan?!"

With the sudden slamming of the door, pounding of a mace on stone, the panic and screams that erput from the tavern, and the pain caused by it all, Abelith let out a very loud, very shrill shriek. It was high pitched enough to crack the windows. The world around her might aswell have been as clear as day now. The soundwaves bouncing off of everything illuminated the world in her eyes. She could see everything in perfect detail thanks to her sonar sense. She could see the dents and scratches in the soldiers' armor, the bark on the trees, the pebbles on the grounds, everything. She soon became overloaded thanks to her scream. Her feet lost their grip on the roof of the tavern and she fell to the ground. All she could hear was ringing, sharp painful ringing, and all she could 'see' was pure white.

Things were not going well for the troll. Her bad day went as far back as before crack of dawn that day. People wouldn't make her a new sword, sell her food, waved their weapons at her and yelled, and she finally felt like she had found a haven free of weapon waving and screaming- She was horribly wrong.

The feathered dog barking at her, only confirmed her fears of more soldiers. They were in the town she was in before and they made that place unbearable, so she made the decision to leave as quickly as she could. her long legs carried her through the panicking crowd, almost tripping on some. "AAAUGH! GET OFF MY FOOT!" One man yelled at her. Okay almost avoided tripping on or stepping on people. Her grey eyes landed on the stone wall. There was a door there. "What happened to the-" She stared at the elf. "What did you do? Make another door!"

She was not so foolish to attack the elf as the drunks were. She needed a way out and could not knock through stone buildings without having one collapse on her. All it took was for one of the drunks to step on her tail, to provoke her to swinging at one. One swing was all it took to send a man several feet away from her, Ivian, and Jaspur. "Errr. Too hard." Then there was shrieking, that nearly crippled the ice troll. She curled up into the smallest ball that she could manage and covered her ears.

Lyra had laughed even harder when Ivian had "tried" to take care of the smudge himself, he really was like her old companion. "Thank you ser, it will be nice no longer having to be alone on my trip for once." She replied before being interrupted again, this time by a feathered dog yapping warnings. When it passed the table Lyra's food somehow flew into the air from all the confusion, most of it ending up stuck to the ceiling while some of it landed on her leather corset. "Bugger..." she cursed as she drew a scrap of cloth from a nearby table to clean herself. She would be busy with this while Ivian bolted toward the elf and while the troll tossed a man across the room, she was oblivious to it all until a loud shrieking sound echoed throughout the establishment from nearby.

"Bloody...!" Lyra exclaimed as the noise seemed to cripple everyone who heard it, everyone but herself. She was used to loud noises - this one was not different, sure it was loud and painful but she could deal with this. Lyra got up and her sheet music began to hover in mid-air, much to the shock of others nearby. Lyra was upset, she was having such a wonderful evening up till all this ruckus had began. She put her instrument to her neck, balanced it with her chin and readied her bow - then she drew a long note.

The sound echoed in the room and to the outside, it was soft and sweet and had a soothing quality to it. It would dull any pain felt and calm the most troubled of spirits... For now at least. When the note died away and silence returned all eyes seemed to hover towards her. "Now would everyone relax? You, elf, what is going on out there?" Lyra asked Jaspur while pointing her bow at him.

Poor Symeon suddenly was having to avoid being trampled. He darted between foot and table but was still kicked a few times. As he resurfaced nearer to Jaspur he noticed the circling drunks and was in front of his master within seconds, maw peeled back to bare every last one of his teeth in a threatening growl.

Through all this Jaspur stared at the chaos and even those approaching with a very deadpan expression, one could only assume he was internally rolling his eyes. He stood with his back to the wall, but felt the banging on it from the other side. His arm came forwards and he slammed an elbow hard back into the wall...bizarrely the wall moved with his arm and the stone suddenly shot back and then returned to its original state, if successful it would have punched straight into the gut and chest of the one banging on the doorway, maybe even launched him backwards.

He opened his mouth to speak to Ivian but the note that played caught his attention and he peered over in Lyra's direction. Looking between both her and Ivian, looking grumpy as if someone had simply spilled his tea he huffed "Large men, dark armor, sporting a symbol. Didn't exactly look like they were here for a taste of the local ale." he said and glanced back "They'll either come through the roof, burn down the roof or try to break the wall down like idiots. Either way, I can make us another door if there is not already a back door." he explained calmly "But it's your call. Thought you might like some time to prepare."

[Ooc: jeezy creezy that dice roll hit hard.]

Abelith wasn't able to hear the note played, still being overwhelmed by the scream she'd let out. By now her vision had returned to normal, but her ears still rang, and they were still in incredible pain. Thankfully Abelith was able to crawl back up to the roof, in part due to her scream disorienting he soldiers, and in part because the stone just punched one of them in the gut, drawing the others' attention.

Ivian yelps and covers his ears as Abelith's piercing shriek splits the tavern. His ears aren't as sensitive as the bat woman's, nor the trollkin's, but the sound is jarring nonetheless. The drunks and guards outside think so as well--all of them stagger from the sound. The guard right in front of the door is hurled backwards into one of his companions, and both go flying several yards away. The man's breastplate is caved in completely. The man beneath him stirs and groans, but he does not.

When Lyra's note swirls through the air in the wake of the shriek, a stillness cuts through the chaos. Between that and Symeon's snapping, slavering jaws, the drunks closing in on Jaspur change their minds. They fall away and head towards the kitchens in the back.

Meanwhile, the guards outside are reforming. Their leader snarls orders to the two remaining able-bodied men, though only Abelith would be able to see what they were commanded to do. The two guards draw the massive broadswords on their backs and shift in front of their leader, who brings his hands together in front of his face. A strange purple light begins to glow between them as he mutters words in an unknown language.

Ivian rolls his shield to adjust his heavy shield with a grimace. "They're soldiers of Lord Azerang," Ivian explains. "And you've just made an enemy of them." The young knight glances back towards the kitchens, where people are still scrambling for escape. There are enough of them gone that there must be a door somewhere. "We can't get these people out of here fast enough. I think our only option is to distract the guards ourselves. Make a door!" Ivian positions himself between Jaspur and the stone wall, hefting his shield to cover the both of them. He glances back to both the Trollkin and Lyra. "Miss... Lyra? Can you see if she's hurt?"