1395 (IC, Historical, Closed)

[Snefaldia]

OOC/Signup thread here. TG me for applications.

March, 1395, the Hagfish Tavern, Taxilha

The great heavy drops of rain had just begun to fall, heralding the arrival of a massive storm, and the dirty Hagfish Tavern, jammed between tenements and warehouses like a cobblestone wall had become the welcome refuge of the denizens of Taxilha’s southern docks. Drunk fishermen grumbling over the day’s catch, sailors jabbering in foreign tongues, out-of-work traders who lost their cargoes or their payments, and the rest of the frayed tapestry of the Port City’s underclass packed themselves in to drink away the rain.

The low, rough beams of the tavern may have provided refuge to the less fortunate, but the little watering hole served other purposes. The Hagfish’s proprietor, a one-eyed Allashan outcaste by the name of Salgash, had a troublesome past and an affinity for the dark purple wine of his home city of Korsahad as well as the less savory trades that proliferated in the trade metropolis. His connections in the underworld made him both a dead man in his Fehrdani-speaking homeland and a good man to know if you ever had a problem you needed to take care of without much scrutiny. In truth it was the latter half of this business that netted him the most benefit. Many locals wondered what, exactly, Salgash did with all his ill-gotten gains; a piece of advice here, a reference there, and the occasional slip-tip in the kidneys all cost money, but the overweight Allashan was never well-dressed and usually barely washed. But his wine was good, and they weren't paying for his company so the locals agreed not to ask questions.

The heavy wood door swung in, and out of the rain another refugee appeared, a mid-sized man clad in grey robes with a wide-brimmed galero like the kind worn in the northern hills. The keen observer (and there were a few in the tavern already, to be sure) would catch his leather boots studded with steel and the hint of gauntlets under the dirty travelling robes, the sign of a soldier or someone with military background. He chose a seat at a small table (really just a plank dowels fitted to the base) just a little out of the main bustle of the small establishment, and settled back, pushing his wide-brimmed hat to the back of his head, framing his fair skin and dark brown hair like a grey felt halo.

One-eyed Salgash heaved his big bulk over with two brass pitchers and a clay cup, tossing the cup down on the table and grunting in heavily-accented Tausite. “Strong or weak?”

“Strong.” The northerner replied in similarly accented Fehrdani. The bulky tavernmaster seemed not to notice, pouring first crimson liquor into the cup and then a dash of water, just enough to top it off. The northerner absently rolled a silver coin over his knuckles, pulling the cup closer.

“Keep your goods hidden if you want to keep them, northerner.” Salgash said in hushed Fehrdani. “Dead bodies hurt business.”

The silver coin disappeared. “And you do good business, don’t you Salgash? At least, that’s what they tell me.”

“Depends who they are, that they know enough to tell you my name.” He replied with a smirk crawling like a worm over his wide, unshaven face. “You’re a long way from home, northerner, but you speak my tongue well so I’ll do you a favor and let you have this first drink on the house.”

The traveler nodded his thanks, the silver coin disappearing into his robes. “I’m glad you’re the man I’m looking for. I’ve come quite a way, looking for Salgash.” The smile disappeared and the man’s hand tightened around the metal wine pitcher. “Speaking my tongue so well…”

“Keep calm.” The northerner said, raising his hands. “I’m no bounty hunter. The Shaykh of Qufyna couldn’t pay anyone enough to take that job, by Atân’s Spear! Now, here. The silver piece is yours if you give me some information and then keep your mouth shut.”

The dark-skinned Allashan nodded, relaxing the grip on the pitcher. “What do you need?”

“Some companions, looking for work and willing to travel.”

The same gross smile slithered over Salgash’s face, and his one good eye glistened. “That I can help you with. And that's good for another drink, too.” He said, snatching the silver piece into his hand. With a dirty chuckle, he refilled the northerner’s cup and heaved away to the sound of thunder and rain pummeling the roof and muddy streets. For his part, the northerner smiled, and leaned back in his chair, adjusting his hat and sipping the strong wine of the eastern desert, and waited.

[Knootoss]

Hagfish Tavern, Taxilha

Mud-caked boots bashed against a creaky wooden door, announcing the arrival of Hidde Hiddeszoon. Short and sturdy, he was energetic and well-fed, the life in these distant lands having been kind to him. Although his dirty white shirt and messy blonde hair were soaked by the rain, the Frisian mercenary was bright-eyed and loud.

"I bid my humble self welcome to your fine establishment!" he said in a greeting to the one-eyed outcast, butchering of the Tausite language with he best of intentions, as usual. Grinning, he found himself looking around at the other patrons.

((Short, I know, but I thought I'd kick off with a post!))

[Snefaldia]

For a fat man, the proprietor moved quickly, throwing his bulk between the Frisian and the nearest table. "Khidda, you drunken whoreson, unless you want to find yourself floating by the pier you'd better have the three catties of copper you owe me." he hissed through his scruffy beard, mangling the man's name. "It was a good tip I gave you for that Arsenal transport in December, and I don't want people to think I give my advice for free, do I?" he said quietly, leaning in and putting his huge hand on the younger man's shoulder, with just enough pressure to indicate his displeasure.

[Knootoss]

"Don't worry, good man. It is all taken care of. Would I show up in this place without a copperpiece or two to pay you what you're owed?" The Frisian spoke boisterously, though his winning smile could not hide the fact that he had, in fact, showed up without the promised money before. He lowered his voice to a conspirational whisper, blue eyes glancing from left to right before he continued: "I got me a fine necklace for a lady, the prettiest pearls you've ever seen. It is going to fetch silver. In fact, I'd already have it if this city had more Jews to take on credit."

Thinking that this explanation might not yet satisfy the one-eyed information broker, he reached into his pocket and produced a necklace that sewed together four beautiful but very small pearls. He held the necklace in his dirty palm, but closed his fingers around it before Salgash could try to grab at it.

[Snefaldia]

His fingers clicked impulsively, but Salgash controlled himself and with another foul grin shifted himself to put his arm around Hidde's shoulder, pushing him forcefully towards an open chair. He barked in his native language and a scrawny-looking assistant rushed over, taking the wine pitchers from his hand as he forced the Frisian to sit before heaving his own bulk into a chair. He wiped his lips on a dirty rag thrust into his wide cloth belt before training his eye and the other, empty, socket on the younger pirate.

"Now, my old son, I know when you're trying to pull one over on me. But the Great Gods of Kand have put it in my heart for some reason to take a liking to you, and don't I know you've done well for me in the past? It's a pretty necklace you've shown me, and they may even be Memdër pearls from these waters around here, could catch a pretty penny if I ask the right people. I always get you a good price, whether it's a dented bronze chalice or a copper tael."

He barked for his assistant, who threw down two cups, pouring more water than wine into Hidde's before scurrying away. Salgash downed his cup of thick red liquid in a gulp, spitting on the floor. "Now here's a thing, Khidda my old son. You hand over those little pearls and I'll just forget about the catties you owed me from that job. There's a fellow here who's paying well for free men like yourself looking to travel. Why, he's even just paid me in Sringi silver just to ask around!" he said. "It's a measure of my trust, my old son, that I'm even thinking of recommending you. In fact, you're only second in my mind after Ɖum-nŏ-gën- and he owes me more than you do. So why don't you toss me those little pretties, and I consider the catties as lost income."

[Knootoss]

"Those pearls be worth more than three coppers and a good word" the Frisian replied good-naturedly. He picked up the watered-down wine and chugged it back as if it was pure water, pulling a bit of a face as he looked at the corpulent native. The mention of Sringi silver had caught the pirates' attention, the glint in his eyes betrayed that much. But... he wasn't going to sell his hard work for less than he could, by giving the idea that he was dependent on the offer. He spread his legs a bit, looked for another pitcher of wine, and took on a relaxed pose.

[Snefaldia]

Salgash's slimy grin turned into a wicked frown. "Interest, my old son. And the Jews in this city don't take your fingers when theirs isn't repaid. Try knotting a mainsail with a stump, Khidda." he growled, dropping his hand to his belt. Instead of his knife, he felt the outline of the silver piece and came up with an idea. He lifted it slowly from his waist and held it in front of his empty eye-socket, flipping it over in his fingers.

The silver piece was about an inch and a half in diameter, with the central image of a hawk superimposed over a smooth triskelion- the image of the House of Wagasanali, Kings of Isaärdlang. Small markings in the Sringi karakish script circled the edge, and the piece was still shiny, indicating it was a recent mint.

"Now wouldn't you like to see more like this? Do me my little favor, and I'll do you yours."

From his corner, the northerner nursed his wine and watched Salgash and the Frisian carefully, noting the anger that was constantly passing over the fat Allashan's face and the almost brash disregard the younger man had for him. Salgash he knew, the Frisian he didn't- he was built like a Sringi, but his hair and features reminded him of the Neeri. Probably a foreign sailor. he thought, concealing his amusement and disgustas Salgash brandished the silver piece. Fat idiot tells me to keep low, and he shows off like a Bajeong Prince one his golden shitter... well, go on you sand-sucking adulterer, you've got a job to do and I can always make you pay for it later.

[Knootoss]

"Alright. I'm listening." The tone of the Frisian was almost distracted now. Hidde's eyes followed the silver coin, just like a cat might follow the movements of a ball of yarn. His left hand, not his good one but nonetheless the hand not presently engaged with clutching the pearl necklace, lifted some as he looked for a chance to grab a hold of the pretty little piece of silver. The royal script and the foreign-looking lettering went completely over his head, and he did not care. Silver was silver, and he expected a fixed price after everything was measured and done.

[Snefaldia]

"He's a northerner, Sring Issa. Where, I've no idea- can't read the coin, but I recall this here image, and if I remember it's from Isaardlang, where the Great Teacher came through, so they say." the Allashan barkeep shrugged. "By looks of him he's a soldier, or at least trained to kill."

Keeping his eyes forward, he put the silver piece back. "Over there, in the corner." he said without moving. "Big wide hat, like northerners wear. Tells me he knows I'm the man to ask, says he's looking for men looking for work and willing to travel. We know what that means, don't we Khidda my old son?" he said, licking his lips and grinning. "But if I say so, don't look like any man of fortune I've ever met from the Sringi hills, and the Great Gods know they come through the city, but if he carries new silvers like this just to buy my connections I wager he has more than that and a big job lookin' to be done, something a young man like yourself might do. A man doesn't throw around enough silver to buy a year's harvest in Dayan if he doesn't have connections."

[Nalaya]

Ashkhen sighed as she ducked into the tavern, soaked to the bone from riding from dawn to dusk in the rain. She picked her way through the crowd of drinking locals to the bar. She wasn't an imposing figure despite her confident bearing and swordsman's grace. Water ran off her armor and dripped from her soaked side-coat, sword tapping lightly against her right cuisse. Along with her arming sword and shield, she wielded a bastard sword that was slung across her back. The symbol of her order, a green cross of thorns on white cloth, was still easily visible.

"A drink, please," she said in lightly accented Tausite before setting down a strangely marked silver coin. She spoke very well for a foreigner, but her accent remained. This place was a far cry from the mountains and river valleys of her home. Ash still wasn't certain of her feelings for the country, nor was this barman's smile putting her at ease. "Ale if you have it."

[Knootoss]

"I suppose I can go and hear what he has to say..." Hidde pondered, even as he slid the necklace back into a pocket of his pants. This was a deliberate gesture. He was going to go along with Salgash's suggestion, but he wasn't going to make a trade before he knew he'd get something out of the deal. He liked Salgash, and even trusted him to a degree. But why tempt fate? The Frisian was just about to make another comment, as part of their witty repartee, but then noticed the new arrival.

The sight of Ashkhen was an unusual one, and Hiddes face showed surprised. He was not used to seeing women dressed up in armour. Even if a few two women had accompanied the Likedeelers on his trip across the seas, none of those had anything resembling the grace and poise of a soldier. And besides, every man knew it was bad luck to have women on a ship. The idea that a woman might actually be part of some fighting religious order was preposterous. Preposterous... and probably dangerous. No-one would carry around so much weaponry without knowing how to use it, or so Hidde had come to understand. He chuckled and addressed the proprietor:

"Looks like you're in trouble, friend. If she's what I think she is, those brewing nuns have found out you water their wine..."

[Snefaldia]

"You're a master on the water, Khidda, but an idiot with wine." Salgash said dismissively, heaving his bulk up and shouting in Fehrdani at his unhappy-looking assistant. "You keep your seat, my old son, and we'll keep talking about those little pearls. Don't be scared of her my old son, i'll make sure she doesn't bite you." he said with a filthy little laugh before snatching the wine pitchers out of the skinny man's hands and rolling over to the table Ashken had chosen.

With his good eye, he glared down at her, muttering in his accented Tausite. "You'll be covering up your weapons, lady, before I serve you. Makes the customers nervous. Must be a foreigner to wander around so armed- no constables giving you trouble at the docks?"

[Nalaya]

"No, they did not trouble me. I explained that I meant no harm. I cannot conceal them, but if you prefer, I can peace-bond them," Ashkhen said with a slight shrug, hands up in an appeasing gesture. She was trying to communicate nonverbally that she intended no harm. "I will not draw my arms here, freedman, I swear it. I will understand if that does not satisfy you--my coin and I could go elsewhere."

She covered the silver coin with her hand. It was small, perhaps the diameter of a woman's ring, and roughly stamped. The metal was not quite as rare in the mines of her homeland, and her few remaining bits had been a parting gift from a local lord and member of her order.

[The Altani Confederacy]

The wooden door to the tavern creaked again, as another traveler entered silently. If it weren't for the noise of the door, many of the tavern's patrons might not have even noticed his arrival.

Rainwater streamed from the top of his iron helmet as he removed it. The traveler shook his head slightly, flicking a few stray raindrops from his long, untied black hair. He was a wiry man, with a solid frame and tanned complexion that marked him as someone familiar with long days and nights spent outdoors.

He walked with a measured pace to the bar, his eyes quickly analyzing and observing the positions of everyone in the tavern. The leather of his armor creaked slightly as he sat down, one hand always remaining near his sabre. He glanced briefly at Ashkhen, before turning back towards the barman and tapping a small silver coin of his own on the top of the bar. "When you've served her, bring me an ale next," he said in Tausite, his voice slightly hoarse. The new arrival turned back towards the rest of the tavern, calmly sizing up the surroundings with an almost challenging look on his boyish face.

[Snefaldia]

Salgash eyed the coin hungrily, muttering in his own language before shrugging his massive shoulders. "For that silver, you're welcome to sit and drink as you are."

Before dropping down a cup and pouring, he cast a glance at the northerner, who met his gaze without flinching. Licking his lips, he returned his attention to the foreign woman. She was certainly dressed strangely, with icons he'd never seen, though maybe some of the Sringi had some like them in the East.

"You are a stranger here." he said with dumb flatness. "I am Salgash, and I know these docks well. You're new in the Port City, and you couldn't have come from anywhere but the sea. Well-dressed, well-armed... This isn't the sort of watering hole people like you normally frequent, least of all women. Maybe Salgash can find what you're looking for, or find you some work. If you're handy with those weapons I can find someone who'll pay well..."

He poured a thick red stream into the clay cup, spattering some on the rough-hewn table as his attention was caught by the newcomer, sopping wet in the heavy rain. His good eye bulged at the sight of yet another piece of silver. "By the Great Gods of Kand, my luck has finally come up!" he cried in his muddled tongue before barking at his assistant to open another jar of wine. "Stranger, I serve only wine here, but that silver you can stay until morning."

[Nalaya]

"People like me?" She smiled slightly. "We find ourselves in many places, wherever we are needed."

"I am searching. For what, I am not certain, but I felt a call to the east and so I have come," Ashkhen said, letting him have the coin. It was her last silver, but it was worth it for warm feeling of a drink running down her throat and shaking the chill away from her heart. "It would depend on the manner of work. I am not a mercenary by trade...and methinks your work might bring me to strange places."

She watched Salgash for a moment, watching him serve the other man. "What news is there of this land?"

[Snefaldia]

Salgash took the piece and made a quick nick in it with his knife, satisfying himself before putting it into his wide cloth belt. "My work is other's work, and people pay me for wine and information, not news. Lately, a lot of strangers coming through, some of them staying on. I'm no Taxilhan, though I've been here long enough to know their language. Many colonists coming down the river from the north- way up in Thiestilm, the big nobles struck some deal with them to fill the city out again after that big fire..."

He stopped rambling and wiped his sweaty head with a rag, muttering in his native tongue again. Having a woman here was unusual, and he was off his game- dealing with rogues like the Frisian Hidde and the river-rat Ɖum-nŏ-gën was more his speed, drunk and angry, good in a fight, easy to argue with over a cut purse or four measly pearls. This woman had a different air about her, he could tell right off the bat, and if there was anything he'd learned in Taxilha it was how to gauge people. She almost reminded him of life in Qufyna...

He shook his head. "Not news, advice instead. Now see, by the Great Gods of Kand, I'll be a kind man, only they know why. For that silver piece, I'll give you advice- there's a man sitting in the corner, with a great big galero, real quiet. You want some help, you talk to him. Great Gods help me, I don't know why, but you seem right for what he's paid me."

He grunted and wheeled away, turning back to the stranger who asked for ale.

[Nalaya]

Ashkhen bowed her head slightly. "I am grateful for your assistance," she said politely. She went over to the table indicated and touched the back of an empty chair. "I was told you might have work for someone with my skills. May I have a seat?"

[The Altani Confederacy]

A boisterous laugh escaped from the stranger at the barman's reaction, at both the silver and the woman. "That sounds like a good enough deal to me," he said. "Wine will serve my purpose just as well as ale. I just got here, and I have but two plans right now - drink, and sleep." The stranger took a deep drink from the clay cup the barman handed him. He eyed the barman over the cup, one eyebrow raised. "One can always add to their plans, though. I couldn't help overhearing what you said about the man in the corner. What's the story there?"

[Emlyn Cuch]

Dafydd ap Egberd rode into the street, wet and tired. He tugged at the rope trailing behind him every couple of minutes to make sure the following horse was still there. It always was. He drew up near the tavern and tied up the two animals.

It was still raining. It had just started to, but it was heavy and Dafydd was soaked. He hated the rain; he hated any kind of water. The terrain everywhere would be flooding with streams and torrents.

He pushed into the tavern with the rainwater still running off him and his boots squishing. He hadn't any money but the tavern was free momentary shelter, if they didn't mind loitering.

[Snefaldia]

After eyeing the newcomer with suspicion, Salgash turned his attention back to the fellow who had asked for ale. "You make a habit of eavesdropping you'll make enemies quick here." he said with a frown. "But you've got silver, and the look of the horsemen of the north about you, and one of them save my life once so I say I've got a soft spot for them weird-eyed wanderers."

He poured another cup for the man, waving the newcomer to another table and barking again at his assistant to hop to the cups. "You I can tell right off has the life on horseback." he said, scrutinizing the man's face with his good eye. "Still young, huh. Well, I'm not the customer here." he murmured to himself. "I'm just the middleman here. You're looking for work of some kind, off the sweat of your brow and the speed of your hand, go talk to the man in the hat. You may have a young face and some swagger to boot, but he'll be the judge of your worth, by the Great Gods of Kand."

At his table, the northerner watched with interest the conversation between Salgash and Ashkhen, and when she rose and journeyed over, and he gestured for her to take the seat across from him, secretly pleased at her initiative. The boisterous young man with the pearls would still be arguing over some price with the Allashan, and here was someone brand-new and taking chances. Rapping his gauntlet on the table, he decided to move in quickly.

"Who was the last man you killed?" he said matter-of-factly. "Tell me about him, or you can get up right now."

[Greenlandic People]

Hagfish Tavern

“It’s called ‘Ship, Captain, and Crew’,” the stranger explained, clicking the dice back and forth in his right hand. “You have three rolls of five dice to try and get a six, a five, and a four; person who has the highest score at the end of the round wins the pot.” He folded his arms and scanned the crowd of locals congregated around his table. “Any takers?”

A reedy-looking gentleman suddenly stepped forward from the mob to the accolades of his peers; he gave the Greenlander a suspicious glare as he lowered himself into a seat. “How does it work?” he said cautiously.

The foreigner merely blinked for a few moments, his face blank. “What do you mean, ‘how does it work’?” he demanded incredulously. He lifted his palm and rattled the playing pieces obnoxiously in the man’s face. “They’re dice – don’t you Indians know what dice are!?”

The local cocked his head sideways – it was his turn to be confused, it seemed. “Did you say ‘Indians’?”

The stranger stopped fooling with the dice – his eyes went wide in alarm. “Isn’t…aren’t we in Takshashila?”

“Taxilha,” the man corrected sternly, his suspicion slowly turning to impatience.

“Ah,” the Greenlander managed, displaying a remarkable lack of concern at being utterly lost. “Well whatever, let’s play. Throw something down on the table and I’ll match it.”

The local shrugged and retrieved a single piece of metal. The stranger held it up to his face for a moment, scrutinizing it with narrowed eyes. “Alright,” he decided, tossing it back onto the table. With a small sigh he reached and unclasped his buckler, chucking the round slab of leather atop the coin. His other hand tossed the challenger a second bundle of dice. “Let’s do it.”

Both men adopted postures of comical intensity, shaking their fists in erratic patterns through the air. A tin smile flashed across the Greenlander’s lips, and then with a mighty exhale the two duelists cast their instruments upon the weathered tabletop.

“Ha!” the stranger bellowed, the excitement thrusting him to his feet. “Six, three-three, four, and five!” He folded his arms and gave his opponent an intolerably smug look. “Thanks for playing.”

“We go again!” the other protested, already reaching to remove his coat from his shoulders. He tossed the garment atop the pile and reached for his dice; the foreigner shrugged and lobbed his helm onto the stack.

A similar display, the same result – the Greenlander beat the air in elation as he shot another perfect strait – the local looked at his collection of ones and twos in despair. It would be a cold spring.

“Well boys, this has been fun, but,” the stranger began as he began to scoop up his winnings, “I think I should probably take my leave. Remember, ‘Ship, Captain, and Crew’ – tell it to your friends.”

A hand suddenly reached out and grabbed the Greenlander’s dice – the interloper swirled the pieces around in his palm, looking at them with deep suspicion.

“Hey!” the stranger barked, suddenly appearing quite nervous. “Let’s not touch the merchandise folks-“

The dice were cast out onto the table, cartwheeling into yet another perfect strait. The same man scooped them up and repeated the miracle again…and again…and again.

The local gave his opponent a look that was somewhere between triumphant and disgusted. “Methinks these dice of yours are a little dishonest, friend.” The atmosphere seemed to shift in a second; the awe and mirth of the crowd turned to shock and outrage.

The Greenlander sensed his time on the stage was up; he gave a nervous chuckle as he began to back away. “Well, that’s all for today! Maybe I’ll see you guys aro-“

He let out a sharp exhale as his backpedaling directed him right into the shoulder of an especially large and brutish-looking patron. “I know a game we can play,” the giant said dangerously. “How about ‘beat the ever-loving shit out of this smartass’?”

The first punch was well thrown, but the thug never stood a chance – he didn’t know it, but he was hopelessly outclassed. The Greenlander deftly stepped to the side, grabbed the assailant’s wrist and – with a tremendous wind-up – pounded the other to the ground. He looked at his prostate opponent and sniffed. "I win."

Silence descended across the entire tavern – the crowd morphed and reformed around the unconscious brute. His cronies and sycophants acted quickly, scooping up his unconscious body and carting it hurriedly back out the front door.

The stranger scanned his gaze across the stunned patrons, his countenance slowly regaining its usual cold impassiveness. Their attention was irritating him. “What?” he growled at last, looking as if he half-expected another fight.

[Nalaya]

"My first night in port, there was an armed man forcing his attentions on a young lady in a back alley," Ashkhen said calmly, measuring up the man as she spoke. "I believe he may have been a city guard off duty--he was not a bad hand with his sword. Unfortunately, he refused my offer to leave peaceably. I broke his neck with the edge of my shield. To draw my blade on such a man would have dishonored the steel." She frowned slightly, recalling other details. "He had some manner of veteran's sigil, perhaps from the army. I escorted the young lady to a local healer's after seeing to the worst of her injuries myself."

She sipped at the strange foreign liquid, quietly reflecting on the battle. Her only regret was that she had not reached the scene sooner, perhaps to have prevented the whole business. "It was not a field of war, as you might have been hoping. But I act where I am needed. Ah, how remiss of me. I am Knight-Captain Ashkhen Zmroukhd, at your service." She made a small sign of polite greeting with her fingers. "New to the region, as you can guess."

[The Altani Confederacy]

The stranger watched the uproar caused by the pale foreigner with interest. A loud laugh escaped his lips as he watched the big man dismantle his opponent with almost casual ease; he was clearly amused by the brief scuffle.

When it was over, he turned back to Salgash. Another brief chuckle escaped his lips at Salgash's warning about eavesdropping. "I tend to make enemies wherever I go, no matter what I do. If one of my kin saved you once, though, I'm guessing you're not one of them. Thanks for the tip. And keep the wine coming," he said, flashing Salgash a grin.

Grasping the clay cup, the horseman stood up and walked over to the table Salgash had pointed out without hesitation. "Is this a private conversation, or can I join you?" he said brashly.

[Emlyn Cuch]

Dafydd moved out of the way of the door and spoke to the man behind the bar counter in a terribly accented version of Old Sring, all the meanwhile dripping and gesturing at the tavern door.

"I left a couple of horses out there, do you know of any place I could put them up for the night? How long do you suppose the rain will last?"

He stood there wringing out his light riding clothes and being acutely self-conscience, as any traveler in a foreign land usually is when he knows he's speaking the language incorrectly. He stared at the woman in the tavern; he had never seen a woman in warrior's armor before and he had never seen one in a tavern drinking, either.