Do Rivers Go West?

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Tags to: @stupiduglyidiot  @Delerath



North, south, east or west. It didn't matter so long as the money was good and there was a place she could top off her night with plenty of booze. Long had the days come, and longer were the nights, and her trials had been as rocky as the roads she traveled.  Connlaoth wasn't exactly the safest of places, so she had kept to the mountain range, and followed it  south and then cut across the plains to divide Connlaoth from Serendipity.  Even as she traveled, echoes of war- and even the glow of terrorizing fires, could be seen from the mountain tops. She wouldn't miss leaving all this behind.

Days turned to weeks, and weeks into possible months. She wasn't even sure if she was in Connlaoth anymore, not that she cared, but it'd be one less thing to worry about having fighting soldiers at her back, or some bounty hunter after her head. She had been getting into too much trouble locally in Connlaoth and knew it was time for a change-
Plus the fact her last run-in with a bounty hunter nearly left her headless. She rubbed at her neck, where the wound was still healing and gave a snort

"Fuckin' piss-offs, the lot of 'em," she grumbled, and downed near half a bottle of moonshine; the last she had on her on this damnably long road. She belched and gave her belly a pat, before retouching the wound on her neck, then securely hiding it behind a thick scarf she had bound round her neck.

Her money kept her moving, just barely (and mostly it was thieving, all of whihc helped move her south). Serendipity was a fairly large nation, rolling hills, long plains, plenty of rivers...
And plenty of wealth, no doubt.

But pick pocketing could only get her to travel so far. And she knew she needed a new pair of boots. All of this walking had worn several holes. Reluctantly,s he had to give up a night of drinking in order to procure herself a nice, fancy pair. And did she ever swoon over them. They were a deep, rich, dark brown color, nearly black except in the right light which shown it's deep mahogany glow. And were they ever comfortable! Hell, they slipped right onto her feet, had enough room and support and laced on up clear to her thighs. It would definitely help fight the scabs she constantly was getting on her knees, and well- she couldn't help but squeal a little at the fact she knew they gave her a lot of extra sex appeal. She was still a woman after all- and though rather rough around the edges, she did like to make herself look good.

She looked up at the shop keep with a grin from ear to ear.
"Where you say this place is again? Raven'sfae?"

The shoemaker simply smiled.
"Ravensway," he corrected.

"Ah, Serendipity places are all the same. 'Though can't say I can keep the names all straight." She stood for a moment in front of a mirror, fussing over her clothing and tightening a lace here or there and giving a half attempted combed fluffing of her hair. She frowned. She could use a nice hot bath. But she'd need money for that, first.

And booze. She was itching for a drink and had her last lick this morning. She turned to the shop keep and eyed the old man up.
"Where's the nearest Inn? Tavern? Bar- any place that sells some good old, cheap ale?"




She didn't always flirt, but when she did, she always did it in order to benefit from something. And men liked loose women, and though she liked a good time with all the rest of the men, she normally kept most of her flirting and kissy faces to the tavern and not the room she stayed. And this particular night she was without money for a room, nor booze; but that didn't stop her from making her way to a little squat and open faced pub called Moor's that the old Shoemaker recommended. She almost felt bad for robbing him of some of his money- almost.
She justified it by saying he was clearly trying to give business to a friend or something by promoting this place- never mind it was straight up pick pocketing.

But who'd send her to jail for a few silvers? She had wished she had snagged a bit more...

Moors was a strange sort of place from what she was used to, for there were no doors nor windows, just a really shallow over hang you had to duck under in order to get to the wide bar front that was lined with stools.  It was here she  noticed that the patrons weren't all entirely human- and she couldn't help but stare. Being born and raised and having remained mostly in Connlaoth, seeing elves and humanoid type creatures had her gawking. Even on the roads she traveled had tended to be mostly humans. Some of them here were even dwarves.

She gave a whistle, but then returned her attention back to the bar, where she noticed a slim figure fussing around behind a partially open door.

"Hey- yoo hoo, you the bar tender back there?"

The man poked his head up and noticed the red-head at his bar and pushed the door open with his shoulder. Wiping his hands off on his shoulder towel, he asked, "Aye, what can I get for you, lass?"

Ellarrah never once dropped her grin, or her eyes from his. He was cute- for an elf. She held up a few silvers.
"What sorta drinks can you sport for this?"

The tender took the money and examined it, looking the woman up and down a moment in thought. He had a bit of a limp in his step as he moved.

"Enough. Few rounds," he went on, procuring cup and drink for her. "Connlaothian?" he asked.

Her brows rose.

"That obvious?"

The elf laughed.

"Well by the way you're staring and the way you talk..." His voice trailed off as he watched her down her drink and then she sat it back on the table, wanting more. He shook his head and poured her another. "Guess I shouldn't move too fast. Traveled all day I reckon?"

"And all night," she griped, groaning a bit as she leaned against the bar. "You up for rentin' out a place or know of any cheap beds, love? Cause I'm fuckin' beat and just want to drink myself to sleep!"

The elf stared at her thoughtfully, and as she finished her second glass, poured a third.
"You'll need more silver for the fourth cup."
She stared at him, drink to her lips as she nodded slowly.

"Good to know, mate." It didn't stop her from finishing that one near as quick as the first few.

"So where you headed, miss?"

"Figured on following the River. Who knows. West, mostly. The Rivers flow West, eh? Or was that East.." she pondered a moment as she pouted, staring into her empty cup.
"Care to help a girl out?" she asked, batting her long lashes at the elf-
Though she was probably asking for help with more than just directions, and well..
She hadn't eyed up the perfect pocket to pick...

.. yet.

[Delerath]

Delerath wasn't ever much of a drinker. However, taverns have information, and information is a powerful thing. In fact the only thing keeping money in his pocket and funding his research is the simple knowledge of whose home and at what times. Taverns have their obvious issues too, violent drunkards, pick-pockets and vomit on your clothes are all too common. Worse than any of that, though, are the vultures. Those who use their "charms" for their own gain. Delerath was deeply jealous of the power these vultures wield. So, when a prime example of this behavior walked in, Delerath couldn't help but stare...

*-sigh- She is going to think I am a prey-animal if I keep looking.* Delerath thought to himself, he never had much control over where his mind wandered. *I wonder what her game is, something simple, like free drinks... No. She doesn't carry herself as someone interested in something so small. Let's see, she stands with her shoulders back and hips forward, her knees are slightly bent. This one can definitely fight.* Delerath remembered what his bodyguard growing up used to say, when you learn to fight you entirely re-learn how to move and stand, this woman holds herself like a fighter. Yet, she moves with the nimbleness of a thief. *So that's it, she is looking for a mark, must be a pick-pocket. Much better than the vulture I mistook her for.*

When Delerath pinned her as a fellow thief his curiosity overtook his better judgement, *A little spying never hurt anyone, perhaps she can lead me to some rich asshole I can alleviate of some money.* Delerath attached his sense of hearing to a small, dark marble he pulled from one of the pockets of his patchwork clothing. *This part always sucks.* he rolled the marble across the room down near her feet. The noise reverberating through his head from the marbles trip across the floor was disorienting and on the verge of physical pain. *Let's see what she's chatting about*

[stupiduglyidiot]

Vezmir combed through his smokey black hair with his calloused fingers, carefully slouching in his seat--which was situated within a dark corner of the tavern. Though he did not drink or even interact with the patrons, he loved watching people live lives so different from his own. As the patrons sang and danced--and sometimes brawled--Vezmir would watch contently from the background, sometimes letting creeping thoughts of envy invade his mind. He is Ravensway nobility, and although his family is not a famous house by any means, the wrong person at the right time could cause quite the predicament for House Saleri. The tongue was often sharper than the knife in the world of politics, and Vezmir still loved his family and being a noble too much to let anything jeopardize his status.

He adorned clothing atypical of a noble--his tattered vestments and dull brown wool cloak were carefully chosen to hide any identifying features--and even went as far as to splash mud and dirt on his body and clothes (although not his face, for vanity's sake). Perhaps a keen eye could tell he was different, but sitting in a dark corner alone often helped him blend into the background. Being particularly vulnerable without his staff and hesitance to use magic (since his wisps would surely draw unwanted attention to himself), he needed to seem as inconspicuous as possible.

Vezmir immediately took notice of the beautiful, yet tough looking, newcomer--as did several others in the bar. He watched as she attempted to charm the elven bartender. Taverns sometimes have their own politics that mimic the world of lords and ladies. To Vezmir, he was witnessing the head of a new house form an alliance with a stalwart staple of the realm, where they barter information. His concentration broke as he noticed a small marble out of the corner of his eye roll across the floor. Normally this wouldn't be a noteworthy occurrence, but as a master of illusions he felt that something was off

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The elf chuckled.

"What good are directions if you can't even tell what province you're in?" He shook his head. "No, what you need is somebody that can help you navigate the riverlands."

"Oh?" Ellearrah nearly squealed, leaning forward in her chair and conveniently amplifying her bust. "Got any elf friends that can help? Wouldn't be a bad idea,..." she went on, not breaking eye contact but studying the room in some foggy glass bottles resting on the shelf behind the elf.
"I could use a scout."

And she didn't realize as she crossed her legs, one boot stepped on the little marble.

[Delerath]

Have you ever heard a noise so loud that your eyes hurt? Delerath wound up on the ground as his world lit up in pain. Apparently, having the metaphysical equivalent of a boot grinding on your inner-ear does not feel good. "AH! FUCK LADY! GET YOUR GODS DAMNED FOOT OFF MY FUCKING EAR-MARBLE! FUCK!" Delerath cut the connection to the marble as quickly as soon as he remembered he could.

Storming over to the bar where the woman was seated Delerath said, "How did you know I was listening? Are you some sort of archmage?!" He looked more excited at the prospect of a pissed off archmage than he probably should have been. "What are your thoughts on the recent developments in Carverian Elementalism? With the discovery of Meta-Pyralist reactions it really devalues Arcanomantic..." The questions went on. And on. And on. "... as applied to subspace Thaumaturgical theory?" Delerath looked at the woman eagerly.

[stupiduglyidiot]

Vezmir was startled by the agitated gentleman. Up until that point his gaze was fixated on the marble, but the combination of the woman stepping on the marble and the boisterous, eccentric man yelling across the room caused his attention to shift. The rest of the patrons continued on with their festivities, barely noticing the commotion as bar gradually grew more busy. One by one, more townsfolk entered--likely to cap off another day of hard work--which signaled it was time for Vezmir to retreat. The more people, the more likely he could be noticed.

Vezmir carefully rose up, extra keen to not accidentally bump into anyone. He made his way towards the makeshift entrance, passing by the flirtatious woman and peculiar man. Keeping his head down, he hastened his pace as he approached the entrance but abruptly stopped as he heard heavy breathing right in front of him.

He looked up while keeping his head own, as the man was shorter than he was. The figure before him was panting like a stray dog. He looked like a soldier of sorts, perhaps a bodyguard? His armor and clothes were completely worn, and while Vezmir couldn't make out the exact profile of the man's face, he could tell he had some minor bruises and gashes. Vezmir glanced at the crest on the man's chest. He didn't immediately recognize it, so it could not have come from Ravensway, else there was a secret organization nearby. Furthermore, from what Vezmir could briefly see, he looked foreign--perhaps from Connlaoth judging by his smaller and stocky body.

Regardless of this man's identity, Vezmir felt something off, again. He quickly turned around, causing him to bump into a stool and drop some of the items he had been hiding away in his vestments. Most notably a scroll sealed with his family's crest, an intricate gemmed brooch, and a coin pouch. He immediately fell to the floor to try and grab his belongings as quickly as possible--before anyone noticed their worth.

[visualspice]

Well that escalated quickly. By the time the man was done rambling, Ellarrah's lips went from gaping to twisting up along with the rest of her face as she scrunched her eyes and looked the raving man over.

"Honey," she went on, politely with a bit of a sarcastic bite. "You didn't need to explain to me that thoroughly that you've lost done lost your marbles. I can tell with only 3 drinks in me fuckin' well enough of that!"

She had to laugh. What else could she do, as she leaned forward and have a patronizing pat of his shoulder.

"You know, though, you do seem like when of those fast talking magical scholars or some such." She moved to playfully poke his forehead as she smirked. "You gotta any brains in there left that know how to give a lady directions in these parts?"

And though she was about to lay on her sweet Ellarrah charm, there was a commotion and she peered over her shoulder to look at the man...
And instantly say the pouch of money.

She smiled through her teeth and bat her eyes at Delerath.
"Excuse me a minute, " and she sauntered over to Vezmir, bending over uncompromisingly as she went to help him with his things.

"Seems you need a hand, love. " she tossed him a wink and went to lift his coin bag, testing its weight  before handing it over. "Sizable bag you got here. Might need two hands to give it back to ya."