Trademeet

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Elwithral walks into the only inn of the small town, knowing that every eye is upon him. He couldn't blame them after all, he certainly didn't look like the normal folks of Trademeet. Aside from his silver-eyes and hair, he has two long glowing katanas sheathed at his sides. He also has very intricate looking Elven Chain Mail on. He walks forward to sit on a bar chair while pulling down and off his travelling cloak. "Could have a glass of your finest wine?" he says to the barkeeper with a light Northern accent. "As ye wish, sir" says the barkeep with uneasiness. He begins to sip the wine, while glancing around at the commoners who are examing every bit of him. He finds it amusing how when he looks at them, they instantly look away. After finishing his wine he rents a room for later on. He decides that he will wait for someone else to come in to the inn.

 

Galliel was tired. Tired and hungry. She missed her travelling companions, but all good things must come to an end, and at the end, most of their relations had no longer been good. Gratefully she opened the door to Trademeet tavern. She walked the last steps over to a table by the wall and plopped down in a chair. She rested her bow against another chair, adjusted her sword, and loosened her boots a little. A serving wench came up to her and said, "What would you like, my Lady?"

"A big bowl of whatever stew you have on, and a large mug of wine, thank you." The wench left her to look around the room. Mostly commoners, drinking their ale, and looking at her and at another definite stranger. When the wench brought the bowl and mug, Galliel raised the mug to the stranger, and invited him to her table with a silent nod.

 

Kalab entered the inn, he was tall around 6 foot 2, and weighed around 220 pounds. Even though he was fully clothed, it was easy to tell he was quite muscular. Strapped on his back was a giant two handed sword. He strolled right to the bar and sat on one of the available stools. "Ale, and lots of it" he growled at the bartender.

 

"Hey, Big Fellow, my table has a few empty chairs yet, if you've a mind to sit with me," Galliel called to the big bruiser.

 

Gathering his mug, he stepped over to the ladies table. Sitting down he focused his dark brown eyes on the women. She looked like she could handle herself. "Why are you in the tavern?"

 

"I finally got mad enough at my last travelling companion to leave him, and after months on the trail, a girl wants a nice hot bath to get the grime away, you know? Plus, sleeping on a real bed every now and then is kind of nice. Not too many people out in the wild to hook up with either, and occasionally you encounter a situation where it would be beneficial to your life span to have somebody backing you up."

She took in the big man's muscles appreciatively. She brushed her hair back over her slightly pointed ears and smiled at him. "My name's Galliel, what's yours?"

 

Elwithral looked over the two travellers who entered the bar. He wondered if they would mind if he sat with them. He could use a friend after what happened to his travelling companion, Daren Baggins. Daren had been a halfling thief, and had always watched over Elwithral when he was little. Alas, Daren had been killed by Elwithral's great great Grandfather, Joneleth. "Mind if I sit here?" he asked the girl.

 

"Not at all. Have a seat. Nice blades." Galliel motioned to a free chair.

 

"Thanks." He takes a seat right beside Galliel, noticing her elven charm.

 

Dalamar enters the quaint inn, he looked around withhis blazing red tinted eyes. Already at the age of 756 his demon features were begining to show. Dalamar hides his blood soaked killing suit under his
travelling cloak. He seems unarmed but it would be a mistake to attack.

Dalamar sits down "Something strong" he orders the
wench in his smooth dialect you could tell he was a foreinger." I have a vile taste in my mouth"

 

Elwithral looked away from the elven girl, and looked at the new stranger that had entered the bar. He could sense the demon blood coarsing through the stranger's veins. He couldn't the stranger's face over the crowd, but he knew this stranger. A slow smile spread across his face as he remembered his travels with this "stranger". It was Dalamar Maximus, a tiefling elf, who had been brought up in Calishman, working as an assassin for Pasha Pook. They had travelled for years together, but were seperated on personal missions. They had a telepathic connection and Elwithral told Dalamar to turn around.

 

Dalamar senses the tingling in his mind that was not there in some time. Turning, he spots the silver haired elf. A wide grin spreads across his face, a grin whitch has not been there either in a long time. Elwithral, his old sword brother. Snatching his drink he walks over to the table.

 

Elwithral jumped right up and went to give Dalamar a strong hug, but then noticing his suit underneath his cloak, pulled away and grinned even wider. "This is my old friend Dalamar, we travelled for years together," he said to the others. "Come on Dalamar, be nice!"

 

" If I must" he grumbled but he soon forgot the others while sharing stories with his friend of a century.

 

While ignoring the annoyed looks from the other two, he invited them all up to his room to share more stories, etc. "Maybe we'll decide to go kill some mercenaries or something to that effect." he said with a drunken smile and a wink. He proceeded up to his "royal" room, not even knowing of they were following or not. He got to the room, and opened the door, and then noticed that all four of them had indeed followed him up. "So, Galliel, tell us of some of your stories...you too, Kalab!" He motioned towards him with a finger.

 

"Not to ruin this little get together" he said looking out the window " It looks like some comotion outside, want to check it out" he had already informed Elwithral who was already buckling on his sword belt.

 

"Let's go!" Elwithral had given both Kalab and Galliel a Ring of Free Action each and was hurrying them up. "Come on, I haven't fought with old Dalamar for years, let's go!!"

 

"Sure, why not?" Galliel muttered a few words and then disappeared, literally. She climbed out the window and went up onto the roof of the tavern, taking out her bow and knocking an arrow. There was indeed a commotion out in the street, quite a large crowd of people fighting. She had no idea who they were or why they were fighting. She saw one person sneaking up on another who was fencing with a third. She aimed and put an arrow in the sneaker's ass.

"Don't you know it's not nice to attack people who can't see you," she whispered to herself. Then she moved behind a chimney.

 

Kalab, barrelled down the stairs and through the door just in time to see Galliels arrow pierce the man. He charged headlong into the fray bowling people over with punches and blasting through the ranks. He didn't really want to kill anyone so he kept his sword strapped to his back and reigned in some of his punches. He was enjoying the fight keeping his barbarian rage in check.

 

"Hmmn, I bet these people aren't really killing mad at each other. It would be a shame for anyone to die tonight just over a wench or a stolen pocketbook. Let's see how serious they are about this fight." She chanted some arcane words and a sickly green cloud settled down over the fighters. Most of them began choking and gagging, some even bending over to puke their guts out. Some kept fighting, but they would be the toughest and most committed to the fight.