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The inn was a noisy place.
It really was a noisy place, like any traditional inn in the middle of a small village should be. It carried the noise of tired men and weary farmers, drunken storytellers and drinking peasants. Waitresses drifted through the room, clearing out tables and retrieving empty tankards, always sidestepping patrons who were quite too out of it to keep themselves upright, and quickly telling the barkeep to sort out the mess.

It wasn't a bad tavern. It had a pretty good reputation, in comparison to the darker inns and covens of bandits. There were no murders, no truly bad barfights. The barkeep even left some pistachios in the bar. No one really ever touched them. The barkeep's apperitives were an... acquired taste.

And so it was that the woman in red heard the noise of the inn grow even louder, possibly into a racket, as the redheaded bard on the other side of the table tested his lute's strings.

"Baen, in case you haven't realized, we are getting ready for a massive expedition. Maybe you've heard of it? ...Somewhere?"
"Oh, do calm down, darling. I'm a ministrel, I play songs for a living."
"No you aren't. And no you don't."
"Look, we're only waiting for the adventurers. You know they'll come like a moth to a fire after we put up those notice boards. They always do, the fools. Besides. this place deserves some music."
"And I deserve some quiet. If you say anything about singing the song of your people, I'll kill you."
The ministrel grinned maliciously at her words, picking up his lute and walking up to the barman, where he gave him a few quiet words.

Marchesa leaned backwards in her chair, annoyed but amused. This time, she had put a stop to all the pretenses of, well, normality that she normally carried when travelling through the towns: instead of dressing like a merchant, a healer, a commoner, the Other was wearing elegant crimson travelling clothes, with apparently occult but actually useless* red symbols carved around the sleeves. A red gold choker adorned her neck, with a ruby at the center. Let them be wary. Peasants always had an innate superstition in relation to anything that had to do with magic, alchemical or otherwise.

She had been reading a book. Actually, had been reading many books, scrolls and papers, all stacked up on the table. The small table itself was empty, except for the witch herself and the recently departed ministrel. A favour from the barkeep, so to speak.

The bard, also dressed in bright clothes, was already sitting atop a barrel that served as his stage, a lute in his hands. To his credit, Marchesa's partner in crime did play well, a lively tune fit to match the audience of the inn.

She turned her attention back to the map that lay on the table before her, books, assorted scrolls, and tankards on either side, using a feather and an inkwell to scribble small notes on the paper.

*Well, one had to put on a show for the peasants. They were actually ancient hieroglyphs. She wasn't feeling very inspired that day.

A light, musical laughter rang through the din of the inn. At a table not too far from the two Others, a young, tan woman with auburn hair sat, three tankards set in front of her on the table. She hadn't paid for any of them herself, though she easily could have, but was freely drinking their contents. Contrary to Marchesa's solitude, this young woman's table was crowded by four men, each of then trying to draw her attention away from their rivals and get the girl to focus on him.

"Tell me who did that ter ya," one of them said, indicating the burn the covered the girl's left eye. "I'll pummel 'im fer ya."

"I'll make him wish he'd never been born," said another, flexing his muscles in a show of strength.

The girl laughed again, patting the second man's arm. "No need, boys. But I am quite flattered by your concern."

The other men quickly voiced their own concern. The girl smiled brightly at each of them, but she was growing bored. She'd been at the inn for hours, and these men were becoming much too drunk to continue to be any fun. Her eyes roamed the room, looking for someone else of interest, not quite ready to go up to her room for the night.

Suddenly, she heard the strums of a lute, and her eyes snapped to the bard on the barrel. Her smile widened.

"Oh good, some music!" she said, standing and parting the men around her with a wave of her hand. She worked her way through the crowd to a small space a bit closer to the minstrel and began to dance on her own, laughing gayly and flashing smiles at the bard as she spun around.

Annani was uncertain why she had come. When something troubled her it was usually best to quickly leave. This time it felt somehow that simply fleeing would not be so easy. And so despite her better judgement, the priestess followed.

Upon entering and walking through the inn, the woman turned more than a few heads. Her skin was dark, far darker than was typical in this part of the world. Her attire was both brightly colored and maybe more revealing than was entirely appropriate, though she considered it perfectly suitable. Even her hair was unnaturally fiery bright and her eyes and the orb hovering in the top of her staff seemed to have a sort of golden glow. Despite all the bright, gay colors there was something unapproachable about the woman. Despite the glow there was a deadness in her eyes, and her utter lack of expression announced clearly that she did not wish to be bothered.

Annani walked through the room far less oblivious to everything going on than she appeared, for she hardly even looked present in the world. She sat, she accepted water, and she stared across the room and its occupants.

"Well, I don't really feel like getting eaten by whatever is running through those woods, and I doubt you do too. I have food we can share. Shall we travel together for our own safety's sake?"

He remembered speaking these words to his two travelling companions. The next few days on the road were very much uneventful, though. Not even a sign of aberrations in woods. It was all very much disappointing, to be honest, but what can you do? He was still alive, though perhaps a bit grouchy. His travelling companions weren't exactly what he'd have preferred. The Elf he walked with was starting to get grouchy and the woman smelled as though something had crawled inside her and died. And bloody hell, no one liked his 1 am tales of knighthood!

The sight of the village swelled up emotions of relief deep within the Dwarf."Well, it was nice travelling with you lot, but I think it's high time this here feller gets an ale in his gut." He spoke to his group from atop his brown long haired pony called Skiddel. Now that the village was in sight, surely no evil monsters would pop out of nowhere to drag Valder into the depths of madness."Until we meet again." With that, he strutted his pony for the inn, leaving the Elodar and Isabelle behind in the dust.

Once Skiddel was stored in the stables, the heavily armoured Dwarf made his way to inn, slamming the door open and witnessing how full it was. He raised his voice for a moment."A gold coin for the stable boy who can give my darling Skiddel food, water and a good brushing. My poor lass has been walking for far too long!" As soon as he saw a couple of people leave for the stables, Valder would look around. A few peculiar figures were sitting here, it seemed. Annani stood out like a sore thumb to Valder. He'd never been to those blasted lands where the sun fries you alive, so he is unfamiliar with its people, let alone its magic users. He ignored the bard and took a seat by the counter."Some of your finest ale, not the watered down crap. I need a stiff drink."

Through the trip with the chatty and sometimes vile dwarf and the strange-but-cheery woman, Elodar had spoken perhaps a handful of words. The elf had mostly listened, mostly unperturbed, but occasionally impatient with the endless chatter.

He hadn't expected the dwarf to ride off before they had actually reached town, but he couldn't claim to be surprised. He watched the dwarf go, but maintained pace with Isabelle. He was in no rush himself, and he felt no particular reason to abandon his other travelling companion just because buildings stood ahead of them. Of course, if she announced an intention to leave as well, he wouldn't pursue her, either.

Yester quickly walks up to the dwarf with a big mug of Sesilies old ale and leaves it at the counter. "That'll be two silver, thank you." Naturally she was annoyed by him calling their standard ale watered down crap, mostly because she helped brewing it, and also partly because that watered down crap was the only thing she could handle without getting dead hammered, but the youth put on a smile and kept it to herself. She'd gotten into some fights with visitors when first shifting to working outside the kitchen, but she'd quickly learned that smashing somebody's nose bloody wasn't the most business friendly decision. In fact she was by now pretty adept at pretending to be happy with serving drinks, if she had to say so herself.

Not that she hated her job or anything. Occasional entertainers, like a lively looking bard on one of the mead barrels, often brightened the evening, and some rather attractive looking faces could from time to time be found in the drunken crowd . Not to mention that being a waitress gave her a good excuse to chat with said faces. In fact, a rather exotic looking woman at the opposite end of the inn had caught her eye... Sadly she didn't look like one for chit chat, she had an air of solitude to her.

Isabelle, unlike Valder, was riding on a surprisingly large goat."So, once we get to town what do you think we should do?"Isabelle asked. "I mean, I really don't have any plans on what to do here."Isabelle said as she and Elodar arrived into town. Once in town she hopped off the goat, patting it on the head. "Are you hungry by chance?"She asked Elodar as the two walked through the town.

"Have you heard? She's here, the blade mistress, The Blue Witch" Whispers began from the corner of the tavern of a blue witch, She was cruel, menacing even. Rumors of her relishing the blood of her victims, killing families and living by the code of the Black Veil.

The night beyond the barn was quiet, the occasional cricket here and there. Skylar approached the tavern doors, the music and laughter emanated from inside. It was slightly comforting, though people hated to be around her... Maybe it was the cloak...

She pulled the hood of the cloak so that it covered her face, she was afraid of people sometimes... They called her the blue witch. She pushed open the tavern doors and stepped inside.

Some of the folks stopped to stare at her, weary of her strange and mysterious demeanor. She was used to it. Sky approached the bar but kept her head down so that her face wasn't showing "some bread and ale for a traveler miss" she asked the barkeep with a quiet tone of voice, then sat at a table by herself.

**she's not actually meant to be scary, just rumors **

Baen, who had asked for something to drink from the innkeeper minutes before, sipped his ale thoughtfully, still sitting crosslegged atop the barrel, the lute lying on his lap. Well, the rumours that surrounded the new arrival certainly were impressive. Very tongue-in-cheek. The woman did make a nice entrance, he'd have to give her that.

His amused glance met his companion's own stare. Well, this witch in blue certainly seemed powerful, even if he doubted she thirsted for blood and killed families on a day-to-day basis. Baen certainly hadn't heard of the Black Veil. But he could sense the magical aura around her. Hmm. Maybe she could be usedful.

Shrugging, he put his flagon on another barrel and struck up a new tune.

The tune was a lively song, more appropriate for a tavern than the darker one that Baen had in mind. But no, that wouldn't do. Ominous melodies weren't very popular. As he played the song, the bard examined the patrons of the inn. Some were idiots. Some where useless. Some where interesting. Some had power. The exotic woman, the fiery warmth of her aura betraying the cold of her eyes. The rather attractive darling with the burnt eye.
Mages. Witches. Huh. They all seemed to have a thing for fire, apparently.
Baen liked that. A grin curled around the handsome redheaded bard's lips. He was sure to talk to them once he finished his songs.

And speaking of witches, Baen could see Marchesa wave at one of the more attractive waitresses, smiling. "Is there any wine in this fine establishment?" There was something off about the waitress, too, Baen thought to himself as continued to play his lute.

The new tune made Brit's smile widen. She continued to dance, ignoring the attempts of her four suitors to join her. She worked her way through the crowd, closer to the bard, trying to catch his eye. He was rather handsome, as far as bards went, and there was something else about him, some strong power she could sense.

Her fingertips let out a soft glow before she reeled her magic in. In another setting, she would have allowed herself to get lost in the music and begin making flames dance deftly around her form, but the tavern was much too crowded and the people much too wary of magic for her to allow herself to show off in this manner. So she simply continued to dance in the small space that was forming around her as patrons moved out of her way.

Gazes were always like mosquitoes. They followed her always. They were annoying buzzes that came and went, landing and leaving and so tempting to slap. Through decades she had learned to accept it but she still did not like it. And some of those who looked her way were no doubt people whom she would soon have to deal with, but for as long as she could Annani would merely observe.

Her expression did not change but her gaze shot to a dancing woman when she sensed a familiar magic, and her eyes hardened. Another...? No, another pretender. Another leftover. Another mere torch, irresponsible and prone to whimsy. Surely the dark-skinned woman's face did not move, yet surely she glared.

Valder grabbed his mug and drank it down almost instantly, placing the empty mug back on the counter."Ahh, just what I needed." He said as he took six silver coins from his pouch."Give me two more, lass. My backside's sore from sitting on my pony's back the whole time. I need to numb that feeling." He smirked. For a change no one seemed to be paying him a lot of attention. Perhaps this is because of all the loud people and the obvious magic users in this place. The Dwarf couldn't say he really minded. Now was not the time to be proclaiming tales of grandeur to the people. Now he needed to relax. And as much as he didn't want to admit it, the Bard's soothing tracks did work getting his mind to a calmer state.

Isabelle nodded. "So where do you think a good place to eat might be?"She asked, before a musical tune caught her attention. She looked in the direction the music was and grinned. "Oh! Let's go eat there! They've got music and I think I see Valder's tiny horse!"Isabelle said happily, grabbing Elodar's arm and dragging him over to the tavern.

[oops]

Oop: I think this rp's closed bro. I'm not positive so you might wanna pm Loren.

Sky sat at the bar besides Valder. Her hood shading her face from everyone as she sat there, patiently. When her food and drink arrived she looked at it, took a deep breath, gently caressed the bread in her hand, pressed it between her palms a little to flatten it and make it more chewy before taking a bite. If you listened close enough, past the music and the laughter you can hear her belly grumble like she hadn't eaten in her life.

A few more bites into her bread, she gently placed it back on her plate and took a sip of her ale... What a combo... Bread and ale...

Less than halfway through her meal she burped by accident, loud enough for Valder to hear and maybe some of the folks around her "excuse me" she murmured, placing her hand over her own mouth...

The music was soothing and the atmosphere was nice and calming but that didn't mean there weren't a few rowdy folks in there. She sensed the power. Most of the folks in the tavern possessed some sort of magic, less likely however to have the same sort as her. She looked over her shoulder at the dancing lady, the bard and the woman at the table. She took note of the barkeep and the dwarf, they were interesting characters to say the least, the dwarf made her smile... but just a little, that's a hard thing to do.

The elf was only just scanning the area when the excitable girl decided and dragged him along with her. He half stumbled when she pulled, but quickly fell in step; no real reason not to after all. They could share a final meal, and then Elodar figured he'd be on his way. Sure, there were unpleasant things out in the wilds, but "Blue Jay" was quiet adept at going unnoticed.

He winced when the door was flung open and they barreled in. Even with the pair he'd been travelling with, he hadn't quite been prepared for a noisy inn. Elodar retrieved his hand from the girl and looked around the crowd. Many danced to a bard's tune. The bard himself was watched by a rather dissatisfied-looking woman - perhaps a lover irritated by the attention he received from other women? Another, even more intimidating female sat away from most, looking like she might have been a walking pyre; she made him a little extra wary. There was the dwarf who had abandoned them just a little earlier, and by him a blue-cloaked figure that also made the elf wary. Blue was not the cheapest of colors, but one who was rich should be able to maintain their finery better - what, then, was the story here?

But it was only for food and drink that he'd come. He would enjoy a meal, and then he could be off. At least, that was the plan.

For a second Yesters smile towards the Dwarf turned genuine. She really liked the image that came to mind of the short, but robust looking man riding a small horse, and he seemed to appreciate their old ale. But she didn't stay at the counter for long. After the shorter man had paid her she quickly went back to the kitchen and got two more mugs of ale which she again handed to the dwarf.

Shortly after however she noticed that a rather sharp and elegant looking woman occupying one of the corner tables seemed to have tried calling out to her, and shifted her attention. But the lively music and sound of drunken guests was simply too loud, and drowned most of the womans words. The young waitress hurried over to her and apologetically asked "Afraid I didn't quite catch that miss. Were you ordering something?"

The woman raised her eyes from the map she had been studying again, one hand still resting on the piece of paper and the other placing the quill she had been writing with on the ink bottle.

The inn was growing louder, motivated by the uplifting song of the bard who she shared the quest with. Marchesa could spot a sorceress of some sort dancing to Baen's tune, with magical energy flickering from her fingertips. And there were others. A woman who belonged to the sun. An elf with blue hair and a witch with blue clothes. A dwarf. Someone rotten who did not like to show her true face. And so forth.

Baen himself was grinning like a madman as he played and meeting eyes with the dancing sorceress. Idiot bard. She thought with a slight shade of affection. I need something to drink. And besides, what better than waitresses and tavern wenches to spread rumours of adventurers in a tavern?

Smiling warmly, the woman glanced at the waitress, making a mental note of the ever so slightly pointed ears that she carried. Must there always be elves and half elves everywhere I look? It wasn't that Marchesa didn't like elves. Well, she didn't like elves, but there was no point showing it, was there? A part of her found them offensive, that was all. They were, however, quite useful.

Marchesa spoke again, grinning a very white grin. "Yes, actually. Do you have any elderberry wine?" She asked, her voice slightly melodious in the background music of the inn.

Brit returned the bard's grin, thrilled to have caught his attention. She danced for a moment longer before seizing a chair that another patron had just vacated and setting it down next to the bard's barrel. Collapsing into it, she let out another laugh, just as musical as the one before if a little breathy from her dancing.

Now sitting, she could see that the inn had filled up even more. There were some quite interesting characters seated at the bar, but they didn't hold her attention for long. She leaned forward on the side of the bard's barrel as she sat in her chair, grinning up at him.

"Might I ask your name, Sir Bard?" she said over the din of his music and the conversation around them. Her words and body language clearly betrayed her flirtatious nature, as well as her confidence. "Someone with a talent such as yours must have carved out quite the reputation for himself."