Wings of Fury 2

Caulind's jingling earrings were nothing compared to the jingling of various trinkets as a tall, colorfully-robed Tsavari drifted through behind him, having just entered the bar. They spoke softly to a barmaid, who nodded and went behind the bar, before settling down at the table with the others, not giving an introduction just yet.

However, a few bottles of (affordable) wine were produced and set at the table, along with glasses. The Tsavari filled one for themself before nodding to Caulind, not interrupting the goblin and his friend, who were seemingly busy telling rapt tales of ant-based adventure.

"Help yourselves to a glass. If we're to risk death together, we may as well share drinks."

They reached up to a colorful scarf that covered their lower face and moved it down, revealing their face properly. Two wine red and one purple eye regarded Caulind without much perceivable emotion.

"Terzi. Seamstress and songstress."

She took a sip of wine, clearly eavesdropping on Avag's story with passive interest.

As everyone was babbling, a very large young woman came strolling in. Her dark hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail for the day's proceedings, her tusks were neatly polished, and her lavender tunic had been carefully ironed that morning. The only thing about her that didn't look downright businesslike was the steel shield strapped across her back -- but hey, who could fault a girl for being practical?

She wipes a dot of sweat from her mint-blue forehead. She'd woken up with the sun to finish her ride, get a room at the local inn, unpack, and get all the way over here. It was the sort of day that left one with a strong sense of accomplishment and a comfortable yawn. None of that here, though! It's time to get down to business.

She decides not to bother the goblin chatting up the Tsavari - spoken conversations present a bit of difficulty, after all, and he seems to have QUITE a lot to say. Instead she approaches the Tsavari and her fancy friend. She brings a slightly bent hand toward her chest, sweeps it down her sternum, and moves into a few confident, well-paced hand gestures. Her first two fingers curl around one another in an upright position; then form a circle; then slash a Z in the air. Her fingers close as if to make a fist, except with her thumb crossing her open palm; then her first two fingers curl, uncurl, and recurl around her thumb.

She finishes with a proud smile and a final hand movement - she points to herself, then mimics drawing a sword from her side and gripping it before her with two hands.

[Hello! I am Rozenn. I am a knight.]

She then points to the two, then her forehead, finally spinning her pointer fingers around one another.

[Do you know sign?]

Terzi taps a finger to her snout for a second.

"... Haven't learned this one well enough yet... Let's see..."

Terzi begins to gracefully sign-
-in broken sign.

[Hello! No know sign.]

Terzi started to sign a word, then stopped, thought, started again, then shook her head. She just pantomimed an apologetic bow of her head.

The knights she met were pompous pricks and had refused to tell her.

"--No, I'm quite afraid alcoholic spirits are outside the realm of the fourth song, but if you pray for a blessing there are several gods who may have an interest here--have you considered Saint Remi d'Vin?" The young priest had gotten quite caught up in spiritual advisement, but with the passage of the blue robed elf took notice of the gathering group. "Ah, I do beg your pardon, it seems Sir Henri's group may be arriving. But if you go to this shrine--" After imparting some directions to the man, Guillairme broke away from the bar with a smile and a nod, and made his way over to the table that was seeing so many arrivals.

"Blessings upon this gathering--if I'm not mistaken, you all have come here to answer Sir Henri's call?" So asking, he unrolled the poster. It was indeed a woodcut of a dragon locked in pitched combat with a knight, the advertisement pasted up around the city. "I do hope you've not been waiting long."

Grokzurl rushes through the streets of Marray, occasionally having to stop to ask for directions. Finally he reaches the Salon de l'acier, and comes to a stop just outside the doors. He pauses a moment to catch his breath, looking once more at the poster he'd pulled down only a few minutes ago. This was definitely the right place, though Grok can't be sure whether he's made it on time. He'd only arrived in Marray this morning, and come running for the Salon the moment he'd seen Sir Henri's posting searching for adventurers. The thought of taking on a dragon was exhilarating, though now that he's standing here on the precipice of this grand adventure, he feels a twinge of apprehension.

Annoyed with himself, Grok decides to simply push the doors open and confidently step through!

Right away it's obvious which table he's looking for; with that many weapons on hand this group must surely be preparing for something big! He rushes over, eager to introduce himself, when he realizes that a story is being told. A rather rousing one, at that. Not wanting to be rude, Grok turns his attention to some of the other members of the group for the moment.

"Greetings, friends!" Grok says to no one in particular, offering only a polite wave. "I'm here to join this dragon slaying expedition of yours," he continues. He deftly unstraps his bow from his back, gingerly setting it on the floor next to him. With that out of the way, he pulls up a stool for himself.


"Sorry if I'm late. I haven't been in Marray long, so it took me some time to find this place."

The orc grins and shakes her head to the Tsavari. She pulls a notepad from behind her shield and writes in graceful hand:

"Speaking's fine! I'm mute, not deaf. I can hear you perfectly well, rest assured! I'll keep to this so long as you're around, though. It wouldn't be very nice to leave anyone out of the conversation if they can't understand me."

Once she's confident her new friend has taken a gander at the image, she turns to the two newcomers and continues scrawling.

"Hello to both of you!!! Yes, I am here to help with fighting the dragon. My name is Rozenn af Quillard, and I am a questing knight of Aldenard! Honor and justice are what we're all about. If people need saving, I'll be sure to help keep them safe!"

She then scrawls a quick addition for the lad who's joining them. "You aren't late, I don't think. The rest of us just were early. It's nice to meet you! :)" She takes great effort to make the smiley at the end of her message look as sweet as possible.

Quietly, an older human woman- maybe mid-fifties or so, going by the wrinkles setting into her face- steps into the bar. She wears a rather simple outfit, a smith's apron over a stained undershirt and heavy-duty work pants, with messy salt-and-pepper hair pulled back by a headband and the kind of muscles you only really develop through years of labor and hitting very hot things with hammers. Her golden eyes scan the room and all it's occupants. It wasn't exactly hard to surmise who among them was here for some dragon slaying fun, but she figurs she'd go buy a drink before joining them. And so she does. Sometimes it's just that easy.

Comète approaches the gathered adventurers with a drink in her hand, not visibly armed or armored, and greets them with simply a nod and a smile as she raises her drink to her lips  and listen to the ongoing conversations.

"Not at all." Guillairme answered Grok, mildly. He placed the poster on the table, advertisement face up, to help any other adventurers find their location. As if they couldn't guess.

With his hands free, he looks up briefly in recollection, nods to himself, and produces three signs. <Greetings, honorable knight>.

"Sir Henri has a few matters to address before joining us, and we have the whole night ahead of us, so there is no rush at all. My name is Guillairme, of the Hushed Refrain," he signed part of his introduction, simplifying it as <I am Guy the quiet song>. "Pleased to make your acquaintance."

Grokzurl feels a twinge of pride at the sight of the smiling face on the orc's page. Imagine that, a genuine knight showing him such kindness! She'd even given her drawing tusks...

He bows his head slightly to her. "Thank you," he says softly, before returning his attention to Guillairme.

"Likewise, sir! I'm called Grokzurl."

Zaya, noticing the growing crowd of people around her once-empty table, began pulling her books closer, closing a couple and stacking them up. Wouldn't want that many drinks near her very important book collection. Maybe she should've sat down at a table big enough for this many people to begin with. Oh well. At least the growing mass of people was... interesting? Maybe? Interesting to know that this many people were interested in dragons, or at least with throwing down with dragons.

She held up a hand as Avag's story presumably began to wind down. Or maybe not. You never know. "Hold on, we've... got a lot of people here. Going to say hello, I think? You can pick up the story in a minute. Sorry."

Zaya looked uncertainly at the crowd. "Uh, hi. We're all here for... Sir Henri? Zaya-Viel Madina. Dragon... scholar? I guess. As much as anyone is. Good to meet you all. Hope you're ready. This... sounds like an older dragon. Especially dangerous."

The lady-knight returns the head-bow with a full-body bow! She seems like she's honestly just happy to be here, and maybe super excited to meet all these nice folks.

She makes a quick sign back to Guillairme! She draws her fingertips to her chin and motions her hand outward, a nice and quick thanks for his efforts at including her.

Rozenn's ears prick up at the sound of the approaching lady! She quickly scribbles in her notebook for the lady with the golden eyes. "Hello!!!" She points back to her introduction on the previous page. Rozenn af Quillard, questing knight, dragon, yadda yadda. Then she opens up to a new page!

"Are you here for the dragon too? You seem quite strong!!! :D" She signs it with a little happy face, but this time the mouth's open so you can REALLY see the tusks.

Comète briefly appraises Rozenn, and gives her a nod. "That's right," she states in a kind, gruff yet motherly tone. She doesn't indicate whether or not Rozenn is right about her being here for the dragon, or her being strong. She doesn't really indicate anything else at all, except that she's a bit thirsty, and once again, she immediately rectifies that little issue.

"Well, you're the most excitable knight I think I've met. And certainly the quickest with charcoal."

Terzi smiles slightly, then reaches for a bottle of the wine she'd ordered for the table. She gestures to Zaya's mostly-drank glass of wine.

"Would you like a top off? Preferably while you tell us why an older dragon would be so much more dangerous than a younger one... I'm a scholar myself, but dragons aren't quite my chosen area of study."

"Oh. Yes. Absolutely. Thank you." Zaya pushes her glass in Terzi's direction with a smile. "Interesting drinks in Chunadie. Made out of... what, grapes? Need to figure out how they do that. Maybe I can bring a bottle home. Anyway! You asked about dragons."

Zaya gestures at her pile of books. "Was just reading up on all this. Since. There really won't be time for that once we're out riding across the countryside looking for this dragon. Dragons don't really age like we do. Can't die of old age, for one. Keep getting bigger and stronger forever, too. And they're inherent users of the Second Song - their experience only grows as they age. Breath gets stronger, and they can learn more types. Isn't all fire like the legends like to say. Might have breath that makes plants grow. Might have breath that warps your flesh. Might just blast us with more conventional things, like lightning. Or..." Zaya pauses, eyes flicking to her hands - unevenly discolored an odd purplish tint. "...ice."

She pauses a moment to consider. "Basically. I hope Sir Henri knows what he's doing."

"No battle is certain, least of all one against a beast which, by local accounts, has been setting fields aflame." Guillairme's tone was serious as he took a seat. There were quite a few faces that seemed to be in his age range--and Guillairme had no illusions about his own chances of survival, should he be unlucky enough to go toe to toe with the dragon while it still breathed. "Take heart that Sir Henri is a man of uncommon skill and valor. Gods willing, he will triumph against the cruel beast."

He flashed Zaya a smile. "And I am certain a scholar's insight will lighten this task considerably."

"Are all those tomes about dragons? It's quite a collection," Guillairme marveled. And she was carrying them into battle! Quite a few of these adventurers seemed to be people of means--hopefully they'd bought themselves training of high value as well. It was a dangerous fight Sir Henri was leading them into.

Avag had stopped his story - which had long since moved on from the giant ants, anyway - and now listened in rapt attention as Guillairme described the task ahead, his mouth hanging open in awe. Once Guillairme was done, he grinned wide and sharp again. "Wow!" he exclaimed. "This is going to be something people remember! You're the priest we're here to meet, then?"

He turned to everyone else, seeming to only just realize how crowded the table has become. "Oh, wow, yeah. Didn't see all of you. Looks like we have a real team, here! I've travelled with a party before, but not like this! Oh, right, sorry, I was too caught up in talking about the ants, we still need to do introductions. I'm Avag Belzren! Nice to meet you all!"

Caulind had dialed back slightly as the crowd grew. Now withdrawing into himself but simply, observing.

At least when he wasn't of course talking back to Tezri "Caulind Raithahir. Let's go with... adventurer."

There was an adjusting second as he decided which eyes to look at whilst talking, before attention flickering to the scarves and a bit of light appearing in his gaze. "This is lovely work. Your own? I try to add a little flair to my own attire when possible and keep things presentable but I couldn't pull this off."

His own blue robes did have some simple lines of white-silver thread through them. It turned a deep blue into something like a sketch of a night sky with points of stars filling in empty space between the outlines of branches and leaves. Nothing expertly done but there was evidence he knew enough to maintain his clothing and to admire and wonder at how Tezri had woven her own silks and clothes.

After that there was some entertained interest at the youthful exuberance of the mute Knight, a small hand wave of acknowledgement to the other shorter, scarred orc warrior and a returning nod to the more experienced looking archer. Guillairme seemed to be pulling things together for now and have some knowledge and affiliation with the situation.

Some more elderberry wine was poured as he started humming lightly from the throat, a slow, easy rhythm. Said glass was raised after Avag had spoken and in a comfortable tone spoke himself. "Caulind Raithahir, a pleasure to make your acquaintances and let it remain so throughout this endeavour."

"Caulind! Got it!" said Avag, practically bouncing as he looked around at all the companions. "So many of us! Dragonslaying! Protecting the people! I've been doing adventuring gigs for years, but a job this big, with people this flash, it feels like I'm a bright-eyed newbie again!"

Avag seemed to talk a lot.

"Comète Révolte," she states plainly, and pulls a flyer out of her pocket and sets it on the table. It's an advertisement for a custom armor shop in town, called the Observatoire Metallique. She slides it forward so people can see, then finishes off her drink. "I make armor."

An halfling bungles into Salon de l'acier.

Well, not just any halfling, Chunadie halflings are usually just diminutive, roly-poly humanoids. This halfling looks more like an anthropomorphic chipmunk, a very old and purple one that is. He's got a big ol' hat that also functions as a wearable garden, consequently trailing behind a massive cloud of yellow pollen. Yes, the pollen lingers on the floor.

"Salutations!" He pipes, his voice a high, tinkling pitch. Both of his arms are filled with baggies and baskets of food. He looks around. "Golly-gee, I hope I'm not the only halfling around this place. That would make me feel awkward!"

He sa-shays to the wine counter and gets himself a lil' tall glass of dandelion wine. "I'm Brom! Nice to meet you all!" He calls from the counter.

Not a short time passes, until another halfling enters the tavern space... through the kitchen door. He is holding a puppet in one hand, which waves towards the open door, and laughs. In his other hand, he holds a delicious smelling bowl of rich soup. Jovial 'see you soon!' and 'it was fun!' emanate from inside. As he turns around, you can see that he is smiling. He slings the puppet across his shoulder, and as soon as his hand is freed up, most emotion drains from his face, replaced by pure concentration.

He purposefully strides to the table packed with various people drinking and talking, and  bashfully asks "mayisithere thankee", placing the bowl on the table, getting ready to eat. Gee, Olek wonders what are they talking about. Maybe he could join in the fun, and learn more about this country! Or many other countries, glancing at the wide variety of friendly folks. He has a few weeks of Free Exploration Time before the raid reconvenes after all.

Oh! A fellow halfling! And he brought soup!

Brom sashays to the soup discreetly and takes a big cuppa for himself. BUT IT IS A RUSE.

"Hullo there," Brom greets Holek. "I'm Brom! Nice to meet you!"

"H...holek, hello" mumbles Holek, being dumbfounded by this theft of soup. However, he thinks that food sharing must be a form of greeting here, and this local halfling must have thought he arrived bearing gifts! "Am chef" he says, offering more soup from his bowl to the nearby folks.

"Howareyou... all?" he queries.

Rozenn takes a moment to take notes on everyone's names! Gotta get them written down in the notebook. Lots of people, lots of new things to remember! She takes some notes on their personal details as well.

Once she's done, she scribbles out a sequence of questions, showing them off one by one to her targets. First, to Comète: "Oh!!! I'd love you to take a look at mine, if you ever have the time. I think it's pretty okay, but I had to buy on a budget. First set and all, you know how it is! I bet you make great armor :)"

Once the quiet woman has seen, she brings one to the attention of Terzi! "Thank you, I think! I don't know how the Chunadier knights are, but we of Aldenard hold friendliness as a high part of the chivalric code. Saving people's bodies is nice, but if you're going to keep their spirits high, a smile is absolutely necessary!"

For her third message, she rips a page out and passes it over to the talkative little gobbo. "Hi! You were talking so I didn't want to interrupt. My name is Rozenn! It's wonderful to meet you, Avag Belzren! :D" She passes a similar one to the two halfling entrants, but omits the bit about talking and calls them by their proper names -- or, in the chef's case, 'chef'!

Finally, she'll pass a note to Guillairme! "How well do you actually know Sir Henri??? Has he done this sort of thing before? :O"

Terzi gives Rozenn look of meaningful appraisal when she reads the knight's note about "saving people's bodies", but seems to quickly realize that she means physical protection, and gives a polite nod and smile of her own, turning to Zaya.

"Yes, well, if this dragon breathes fire, then, don't get too burned. I've studied healing, both of the Song and of medicine, but my capabilities have their limits. Burns are... Greatly unpleasant to treat."

She looks to Caulind.

"Yes, my clothes are my own design, but I can't say that I made the cloth. I improved and quilted and accentuated, certainly, but I don't often have the time or equipment to produce my own textiles... Though I do make the occasional silk bracelet and accessories. That one is a trade secret, but I'd be happy to show you my work... But if you'd want to commission clothing, I'd recommend touring the local markets for resources."