[Fireside Inn] Aslanites' meeting (Raliric)

[Eyvind Redbeard]

2nd Brightening of the First Cycle of the Month of Aperitus in the season of Summer; Era II of the Celestine Mandate, Era XIV Post Fractum.

The Fireside Inn was the most famous and often-visited tavern and inn that city boasted. Located on the main stretch of Sherital Way, just inside the Narim gate, it was the most likely stop for any weary and worn traveler.

The golden-grey stone building rose three stories high and towered magnificently over the shops and tents at its flanks. Ivy encased the stone with leaves of yellow and light brown, which fell with a shimmering elegance in the autumn breeze. The rippled, foggy glass of the windows peeked out from behind the ivy like eyes that glowed in the darkening, and they masked the shadows of the people inside.

A balustrade of white roses flanked the three wooden stairs that rose from the flagged street to the heavy wooden door, which was set with three panels of frosted, rippled glass. A smaller staircase, perfect for gnomish customers, rose to a smaller door set higher in the stone wall.

Behind this little door was the beginning of a network of wooden catwalks, lifts and pulleys that hung from the beams inside the tavern proper. Fairies and pixies lighted on balconies set high outside the building and entered immediately onto the catwalks. Gnomes and fae walked the catwalks ten feet above the floor while big people walked harmlessly beneath them, with no fear of stepping on a hapless patron, or being stepped on.

The tavern itself glistened with polished wood and hummed with the soft music of a minstrel, playing from a small raised stage at the back. Round tables and sturdy chairs surrounded a warm stone hearth in the center of the room, which cast a golden glow on the colorful tapestries on the walls.

While fairies and pixies could simply fly down to sit at the little tables at the center of the big tables, gnomes had to use the pulley lifts to lower themselves down to the tables and to the sleek bar. Little folk and big folk alike sat at their sections of the tables and at the bar, facing a wall full of ornate and colorful bottles.

The barman -- a smiling, silvery-haired human -- took pleasure in filling drinks and listening to and telling stories. These were grand stories, epic stories, stories of flying children and beautiful girls in towers. Some of these, he left to the minstrel to sing in the form of ballads, which many of the patrons knew by heart.

Since he had arrived in Taralon, Eyvind had heard of the Fireside Inn. Many of his men used to say that the ballads of the minstrel scratched the divine, matching with the plays the rich used to see in their fancy theatres. Since the Vagaran had never been in a theatre he didn't know exactly what they meant but he remembered the tales told and sang around the fire during the long Winters of the northern most coast of the Empire. The tales and the warm provided by both fire and company after the said tales in some more private chamber. Good times, old times, lost times. Right now all he had was this chance of sitting by the counter and drink some ale while listening to the Bartender's histories.

The Daekin avoided the Waitress, Lola, from the first moment he saw her. Not that he disliked Halflings, but she had a rude thing about and after seeing her almost kicking a costumer who dropped a cup the soldier decided to sit where she wouldn't bother him, near the Bartender.

"She isn't rude without a reason, Sir. She is like those princesses of old, her mood is just to spice her prince."

The older man said to him while Eyvind glanced at the blond Halfling with a suspicious gaze.

"I am glad I am not her prince them!"

The Vagaran could avoid laughing. Princes and princesses. As if they could change anything. Telath would still exist when their time had long passed and the same was true for him.

"Times are different now, old man. Princes no longer fight Dragons to save their princesses. It is old fashioned. The old times are over now, the time of heroes has ended and we mortals will forever dwell in this bloody mess. What is the word in the street? What do the people think, old man?"

[Steve]

The Bartender raised his eyebrows.

"What do the people think? It depends on what people you talk to and what rumors they heard. No information coming from the Governor, none from the Thane either. They are a close lipped pair, they sure are. They don't tell the people anything."

He looked Eyvind up and down, taking note of his garb and added, "Imperial people aren't any better either. They come here as if they going to do something, but all they do is hang out. Might be they going to fight Orcs. Might be they won't. Had an article in the Herald a while back. Said there were conflicting rumors about war or peace with the Orcs. That's about the most solid information that the people have.

"Some people want war, some want peace. Some like it the way it is now. Quite a few wonder why the Imperial Army doesn't do something. They been around for some time now and they don't do anything. Some citizens want to join up and fight Orcs. Mostly the youngsters want to. Most citizens figure that if the Imperial Army could not defeat the Orcs before, then no rag-tag Provincial Army is going to do any better. Most people want to stay home and have the Imperial Army wipe out the Orcs. A lot of others say we ought to leave the Orcs be and not stir up a hornets nest.

"No matter what happens, there going to be a lot of people who won't like it. Most the complaining was that nobody tells the citizens what is going on. Now a lot of them might not care what is going on."

He then added, "What are you drinking"?

[Eyvind Redbeard]

The Vagaran nodded to the Bartender. He understood the man's feelings, he too was being kept in the dark and didn't like it much.

"To be honest what we the low ranks know isn't much more than what you know. Basically what we know and you don't is all about logistics and military strategy. I myself have been ordered the formation and training of the Provincial Army you called rag-tag. I tell you they will become fine soldiers. They are being trained by the best and I am not saving efforts to make them improve. But again I don't know if we will enter in a war or not. I think this Provincial Army is just for defensive purposes should the Orcs decide to expand their territory or raid the eastern part of the peninsula."

He looked to the bottles behind the counter.

"A Fireside's ale, I want to taste your famous beer."

He said with a smile and then continued.

"You see, in the position the Legions are now they can't start a war with Ire. I've seen the troops with my own eyes, we need more. I don't really know how many Orcs we are to face in an open conflict but the number has to be huge, I've heard tales of the green Horde in the Hinterlands after the last defeat in Narim. I would like to be helpful but unfortunately I can only assure you that I will do everything in my power to defend the civilian population of this Province. Aslan teaches us to defend the undefended."

[Raliric Ered`Gard]

”One man, with strong belief, intention and action, can change the world.” Were the first words Eyvind would ever hear out of the mouth of the newest individual to sit at the bar; the tone of the voice was deep, strong, and although kind there was a deadly calmness that bespoke of hidden power and prodigious prowess. ”A mug of water, if you will good barkeep, and a large meal with plenty of meat, I am not fussy.” He slid more than enough crowns over the counter toward the Bartender. Then two orbs of cavernous darkness turned to address Eyvind and words once more flowed from a mouth and face that appeared human, even with the travel dust still present. The sound of a heavy pack hitting the floor between them was definitely heard by the Vagaran, though it was a background noise that accompanied his newest words; next to the pack was a large modified bec-de-corbin, identifiably made from dwarven steel the oak and steel haft appearing smooth from well use.

”Aslan does teach that. The strong are to defend the weak, I believe is the more convention way of putting it.” A deep rumble which was probably this seven foot six inch person’s way of chuckling. ”Though who knows who is weak and strong these days? Defend those whom cannot defend themselves is a much better wording.” He grunted, sitting upon the bar stool and allowing a subtle sigh of relief to penetrate his lips before he continued. ”You speak as if you know more of the way of Aslan, as if you were perhaps a worshipper or follower of his cause, his tenets if you will.” It was not a question, merely a statement, though obviously the man expected a reply.

This dark looking fellow stands at the height of 6'6", long black hair loosely falling about well built, tanned shoulders; its length, although curly, reaching just below his shoulder blades. Icy, dark and cavernous orbs watch from sockets of golden brown skin. Hard, rough, angular jaw set in a semi-permanent expression of emotionless, whilst also holding a frighteningly powerful visage. An aura of confidence and power surrounds this spawn of a dracon in human form. His build; muscular, but not beastly, one might say ‘perfectly proportioned’, but not quite. On this particular occasion he wore his leathers; dark browns and greens which were almost molded to his form via straps and shear design, though not so much so to restrict movement or speed. A cloak of dark brown leather was attached via a darkened metal ring around his neck and, until moments before, the hood had covered much of his hair and cast shadows upon most of his features. He was equip with a variety of different weapons in addition to the modified bec-de-corbin… a few knives, two Graw’lak, an elven longsword and whatever else the fellow might be carrying in that heavy looking backpack.

[Steve]

"One Fireside Ale coming up". The Bartender brought over the drink and listened on.

"Well, one of those important people in the Imperial Army ought to tell the citizens what you are doing and what you're going to do. We don't look to learn your secrets, we just want to know what is happening to us. Sure isn't too much to ask for."

Then another warrior came to the bar and joined in with his own remarks. He placed his order and slid more than enough crowns over the counter toward the Bartender. Without delay the Bartender scooped up the coins and hustled off to kitchen to fill the order. An interesting conversation was good reason to dally but a genorous payment trumped it all. In a very short time Raliric had a very generous amount of meat on a platter along with a boat of gravy and bowl of roasted potatoes and carrots. Finally a plate, knife, fork and a large mug of chilled water were set before him.

Once he was sure that everything was in order, the Bartender went off to another customer.

[Eyvind Redbeard]

The Vagaran took the tankard of ale and raised it to his lips but before taking a sip spoke.

"Indeed, it's not much to ask for. That's what I would like to know, what will happen to me and to my men..."

And he too a long sip and closed his eyes. The beverage ran down his throat leaving a smooth taste behind. Then a voice spoke. The voice denoted strength and nobility and spoke wisely and cautiously. Placing his tankard on the counter the Vagaran turned to see the man who had just sit next to him. His clothes were dirty from days of journey and his weapons showed his profession. But above all what caught Eyvind's attention was the man's knowledge of the Tenets of Honor. The Daekin nodded to the man to thank him for the compliment with which he'd started speaking.

"I am indeed a follower of the Aslan."

Eyvind said while raising a thick medalion depicting Aslan on it.

"This is the symbol of my god, Aslan-Immanuel, Prince of Aetheria."