a lady in a bar - Shadowblade!

[Anonymous]

Elishe considered the information a few folk kept telling him, mostly inadvertently in the form of stories, and found that it really seemed to be an answer to a very pressing concern of Lady Anne's (and her entire household, really). He grinned boldly, arms flailing and windmilling in an overly dramatic fashion as he told some exciting bit of a story.

"So then this guy I know din't believe me an in his underwear..." He leaned in close to his new friends and then all five of them dissolved into a barking fit of laughter.

Anne sighed, eyes rolling discretely as she heard some of Elishe's story. Gently and absently she stroked the side of her foot down the strong back of the dog lying at her feet. Her hands slid along the deep burgundy skirt of her dress, almost compulsively brushing off nonexistent dirt. It was her simplest dress, burgundy with light gold accents. She realized, however, she needed to put the dress away. Today was her wardrobe's last hurrah, so do speak.

Elishe stretched and rolled his shoulders, paling around with the four brawny men. They were nice folk, rough with booming, vulgar laughter. Elishe found it a refreshing switch from the polite constraint of the Ivers Hall. He was really enjoying running away and going into hiding, to be honest. Hell, the details of all the trouble completely eluded Elishe's finer sense. He thought Lady Anne was being paranoid.

"Well, my good men, I've got to get goin', ya?" His accent was thick as he stood, hands stroking down his narrow chest and scratching lightly. He canted his head, finding the Mr. Marcos he'd been told about so delightfully. He strolled about the room, approaching Lady Anne and the dog she was ever so fond of. He leaned down politely, his voice taking a more 'inside voice' and merely allowing it to be drowned out by the laughter and heated debates the tavern seemed to foster. He nodded his head as made a reply, turned and meandered to Marcos' table, snatching out a chair across from him and flopping into it.

"Hello," he quipped. Elishe was friendly in the way you imagine a dog would be. Genuinely good-natured with an undeniable warmth to his manner and voice. "I heard about ya from those good gents over a ways," he stretched out his rough, broad hand casually towards the other table, "an I was wonderin' if ya were interested in a job, ya?"

Elishe leaned back in the chair, glancing back at the Lady. She was sitting, relaxed but the closed off expression on her face told Elishe only that was either bored or thinking deeply. Although, sometimes, those two things went hand in hand. She looked so odd, sitting in her pretty dress in the middle of the tavern, her darker skin quite nice against the color of it and her curly dark brown hair bundled up at the back of her head.

The fairly meek way she was sitting was entirely a display. Not intentional, but definitely misleading. It was a wonder anyone wasn't hassling her. Unless she'd put a sort of spell on herself? It was always too hard to tell, what with how quick she was with those sort of things. Especially these days.

[Anonymous]

Marcos turned his attention from the fireplace to the man who'd addressed him. He obviously wasn't from around here, but then again, neither was Marcos. The accent, though, was decidedly different from what he'd heard in the past. He nodded in greeting to the man who had been excitedly telling a story half-way across the tavern only a few moments before.

Granted, he hadn't really been paying attention to the story itself, only that a story had been occupying the minds of the mercenaries whose company he'd just left. THAT adventure certainly wasn't the most pleasant he'd been on. The others that had escorted the trade caravan were dirty, loud, uncouth, and barely skilled enough to do their jobs, but Marcos wasn't about to tell anyone that. He preferred to keep his mouth shut about such things, and let the mercs go on thinking they were the best thing since tempered steel.

The exchange of words and glances between the man and the finely dressed young woman were far from unnoticed. Observing and noting his surroundings was something that he was quite good at, and taking note of what those around him were doing was something at which he was just as well suited.

Marcos glanced from Elishe to Anne before he returned his gaze to the one addressing him. Whoever she was, this wasn't about hiring him for some simple task. If that was what she was after, the mercs would've already gotten the job and left. No, this was something more, and that fact... intrigued him. It was rare for someone to search him out for a job. It had only happened once, when a noble had offered him an enormous amount of money to Shape a very complicated and delicate piece of jewelry for an anniversary gift to his wife. The job had gone very well, and the money had kept him on the road for over a year as he travelled from place to place.

From the looks of things, this wasn't going to be anywhere near as simple a job. It certainly didn't look like any Shaping was involved, anyway. His mind made up, the corners of his mouth curled up into a slight, but warm smile.

"Please, invite the young woman over so that we can discuss the job. Perhaps it's best that introductions wait until all the parties involved are present."

Marcos lifts his cup of water, his tri-colored eyes flashing momentarily in the light of the fire as he glances over at the woman again before he takes a drink. No one was ever entirely as they seemed.

At least this adventure was starting out more interesting than his last outing...

[Anonymous]

Elishe smiled widely, head bobbing with enthusiastic agreement. He patted the table with his fingers, his left hand lifting in a quick little forward 'stay there' wave to Marcos as he slunk off across the bar. He skirted the fringes of boisterous men and women, clearly more familiar with dancing on the outskirts than bursting right in. While Elishe didn't seem like much of a sly fellow, it was the men more capable of openly bounding into a place and yet dancing around all the trouble you had to worry about. Elishe had quick hands and feet to make his smile.

He approached Anne, a slight, restrained bow to her, a hand offered out to her. She looked up, dark eyes vacant, an iridescent glow lightly pressing out from the whites of her eyes before it quickly disappeared and her eyes appeared occupied. Anne automatically went to reach for Elishe's hand before quickly withdrawing. Her chin tilted up stubbornly and she lifted herself from the chair and table. She wasn't the daughter of a duke anymore. She couldn't be expected to act like it (for every little thing, at least).

Unlike Elishe, Anne skirted nothing. She didn't shy or sidestep, her eyes barely dipping to either side of her. The stocky, muscular fawn and white dog (imagine a pit bull type of dog) followed patiently behind Anne, floppy ears mobile and alert. Elishe scurried ahead to pull back the chair across from Marcos, grinning broadly as Anne hesitated, eyes narrowed into a glare. "What did I tell you?" Her accent was thicker than Elishe's and even slightly different. She settled into the chair, eyes assessing Marcos lightly. "Hello Mr. Itharien, I'm Anne Vance-Rocchi, this is my hired man Elishe of Vance-Rocchi, and I'm in need of some assistance, ya?" She smiled politely, her sentence precise and measured.

She rested her deeply scarred hands on the table between them, the scars all faded except for the iridescent glimmer as they clasped in front of her. "I'm in a bit of a predicament. I need to hire a guard to protect me and mine from some people of my homeland. I was given something and my brother wants it back. Since he's the heir, he has every right to hunt me down like... what is it?" She pauses for only a moment, her head canting slightly, "A dog?" A puzzled expression came across her face. Her delicate shoulders lifted absently. "And I'd rather not die or give up what was given to me. I'm a little selfish like that," she gave a razor sharp smile. "I am also not going to sit in my home and wait. I plan to travel in search of some documents. Of course, meals, clothes, repairs, shelter and traveling expenses will all be covered."

Elishe nodded enthusiastically. He leaned forward towards Marcos, as if sharing a secret with him. "Dun't ya worry aboot her none. She might'n act like a shark, but honest to Color, she's a gem." He winked before being silenced by a particularly sharp elbow.

Elishe gasped, winced, and grinned. He looked only a year older than Anne herself, who looked to be in her early twenties. There relation was comparable to brother and sister, but it was clear that Elishe respected Anne, even if he was dedicated to bothering her. It was clear enough to the subtle ways he tried to do his job (even if she'd told him weeks ago that his job had ceased to be as it once was.)

[Anonymous]

Marcos folded his arms across his chest and closed his eyes as he thought about this particular job offer. It was rare that he would take a bodyguard job. More often than not, it would be a short job, one that only lasted a week at most. This, however, did not look or sound like it was going to be short. Plus there was the potential travelling. He was far from being comfortable with putting down roots in one place or another permanently. On the whole, the job didn't sound all that bad, but nothing was ever entirely as it seemed.

He opened his eyes to look at the two sitting across the table from him. From all appearances, Ms. Vance-Rocchi was of noble birth. The scars were... unexpected for a woman of that type of heritage. He wasn't about to pry, though. If she wanted to talk about them, she would. Elishe struck him as a personal servant, probably one that had been in the service of Anne for much, if not all of, his life.

The circumstances that brought them to his table looking for a bodyguard could wait until later, once they were out of earshot of the various current occupants of the tavern. Truthfully, this bodyguard gig intrigued him, and he was going to accept. The decision made, he leaned forward, setting his hands on the table. His drawling accent kept low so that only those at the table can hear.

"Alright, Ms Vance-Rocchi, I'll take the job."

He holds up a hand, four fingers held out.

"Four rules. One: I ain't your servant. I'm to keep you safe, that's all. Don't take my being nice to mean I'll do what you tell me to. Two: I don't use titles. Courtesy doesn't mean I gotta call you anything more than Ma'am. Don't like it? Find a different bodyguard. Three: I understand that everyone has secrets, but some come back to haunt us. If you've got some of them hiding in the shadows of your past, let me know when it's an appropriate time to do so. Four: I need to know who or what your brother might send our way to attempt to retrieve whatever it is that you have. I need to be prepared for what's coming."

He sets down his hand, and smiles warmly.

"As to my fee: one silver a week. I know that's well below the average, but I'm travelling because I've got a considerable case of wanderlust, not because I'm broke. If you want to know what abilities I have, we can discuss that on the road."

Looking between the two, he awaits the decision.