Davenarial enters the pub and stands still in the doorway looking around, and also letting the patrons get a good look at him. He had never been here before, and didn't know how people would react to someone who looked like an angel walking into there pub.

Seeing no one jump out of their chairs to kill him, he walks to the bar, and orders an ale. While waiting he studies the pub, grimy, dirty, ugly, and perfect run through his mind. He takes the drink in the glass of questionable usability from the bartender, and walks to the back of the pub, and takes a seat in a shadowy corner. Not to hide his identity, or make himself seem darker. But because the type of people who used his kind of services expected him to.

Davenarial leans back in his chair and waits to see what happens.

Nomadae looked around her carefully, trying not to make an appearance. The pub was slightly crowded, which was not surprising at this time of day. It would only get busy much later. Now was the perfect time to rest. Even as a chaotically evil demon, she had a tiny part of herself that pleaded that she needed rest... To relax... To perhaps make friends
Not friends... contacts... aquaintences.

She casually sautered over to the bar. She felt strangely awkward and embarressed but this was what she wanted to do for a very long time. She sat down on the bar stool, carefully hiding her black wings and leaned over to the bar man.

"Could I have some ale please?" she said in a strangely husky voice. The barman nodded as he turned around to make preparations for her pint of ale. She sighed in relief. It wasn't that bad... Although she wonders why she never did it before...

She looked over to her right to see a stranger, who was too ordering some beverage. She could see a feather or two sticking out of his cloak. Was there another one like herself finding his destiny, why they were here... What they are supposed to achieve?
She turned herself to the stranger and said quietly, "Where do you come from?"

Davenarial watches as a girl comes in and order a drink, she had lumps under her cloak, that almost all would ignore as humped shoulders. But he new better because his back was similarly humped.

"Where do you come from?"[COLOR=red]

Davenarial studies the woman a little more before answering. She seemed to have black hair, although with how dark it was it could have been brown. and black eyes. She was built like him but smaller, and she had a feel about her that said she was definitely dangerous. But then again so did he.

"I am from Morring. You??"

The stranger turned towards Nomadae and said, "I am from Morring. You?"

She looked at him questionably. She did not know where that place was, or even heard of it. She did not want to reply to what the stranger said, because perhaps he had heard of her and reveal her to what she really was. Despite that, she did not even know where she was from. All she could really remember is that she worked for her Master and killed people from a very young age...

Did she even have a mother, she did not know. All she really knew was that she killed to survive. In this world, it's kill or be killed. She shifted her eyes to the glass of ale that was put in front of her by the barman. She left it where it was, deciding what to say. She looked at her hands and eventually said something.

"Where is Morring?"

( OOC: Sorry I posted twice can someone remove this??)

"Where is Morring?"

Davenarial smiles *She doesn't want to talk about herself* he thinks. "Morring is far from here, on another continent. And I would ask you where you are from........... but I don't think you would tell me" Davenarials face goes expressionless, He looks around the pub, sees a men stab another and drag him out into the streets. Davenarial then looks back at her watching her eyes for anger at his comment. "So maybe I can ask a question you will be inclined to answer. What brings you here??"

The pub is getting darker and the bartender puts out torches, and lamps.

"Morring is far from here, on another continent. And I would ask you where you are from........... but I don't think you would tell me," said the man quietly. Nomadae looked down at her hands, which were now around the pint of ale, unsipped. Before she could answer the man added, "So maybe I can ask a question you will be inclined to answer. What brings you here??"

Nomadae sighed and decided to play nice. "I'm here on a break for work. You have no idea how stressing and packed it can be!" She took a long gulp from her ale to support what she said. Yes, it was true, but she did not want to reveal her true identity and what she did.

Nomadae set the ale down and looked at the man, studying his face carefully. She wondered what he did and who he was. She was so sure that she saw his face somewhere. Her master told her something once.... What was it?

"I'm here on a break for work. You have no idea how stressing and packed it can be!"

Daven smiles *If she is, what I think she is. Than I know just what she means.* he thinks. Daven still has sipped his ale, and wasn't going to. The ale was just for appearances, so he could hang around without getting kicked out.

"Tell me something," Daven says "Did your master work from alleyways, or did he work at peoples homes??" Daven makes sure to phrase it in such a way as to make the comment sound innocent.

"Tell me something," says the stranger. "Did your master work from alleyways, or did he work at peoples homes??"

Nomadae nearly spat her ale out, but she learned control that one time in her life and she kept it in, swallowing it slowly and deliberately... Should she tell him? No, I can't trust him, he's just a stranger... But why would he want to know anyway? Did it really effect the way he looks at her or how he thinks?

Nomadae sat and thought about the matter for a while until she finally said, "Both, I'd say. It varied to what kind of job we were doing." There, that shouldn't be suspicious enough. She knew if she would tell him that she was who she is, someone might over hear it and kill her... No, my Master values me too much... I must watch my step...

"Both, I'd say. It varied to what kind of job we were doing."

Daven just nods "Just as i thought, she is going to be like pulling teeth unless I show we are in the same line of work. And maybe not even then." he thinks. Daven looks at the girl in the eyes, "What was your Masters name?? I work all over to, and might have heard of him."

Daven feels a hand at his purse, he reaches down grabs the offending hand, and with a loud crack breaks all the bones in it, one handed. the would be pouch snatcher screams aloud, holding his mangled hand, and staring at Daven. "Next time be better at your job, or don't try it." Daven says, he then turns back to the girl.

The stranger nodded, "What was your Masters name?? I work all over to, and might have heard of him." Nomadae mulled this question for a while and suddenly the stanger took a small hand that was trying to take his purse. He cracked the bones in the hand and left it. Nomadae did not wince: she'd seen more terrifying things than a broken hand...

"Next time be better at your job, or don't try it," muttered the stranger and turned his attention once more to Nomadae, who still didn't answer his question.
"The Master is known as the Master, and his name I cannot reveal yet, until you tell me yours," she finally said, smiling wryly.
She knew this was not true, but if the stranger insisted, it was the only way she would reveal his identity. But lately, there was something familiar to the conversation. Like she had it before... The way the stranger cracked to hand... Could it be?

"The Master is known as the Master, and his name I cannot reveal yet, until you tell me yours," The girl said. Daven smirks "I suppose we could go that rout. My name is Davenarial Alexander, and you are my lady??" Daven bows a little, then takes a drink of the ale he had ordered out of curiosity, he grimaces "Vile stuff just as I thought". Daven watches the girl "Definitely a killer, she didn't even show shock when I broke the thieves hand. But i can't tell if she an assassin, or a merc" Daven thinks

"I suppose we could go that rout. My name is Davenarial Alexander, and you are my lady??" said the stranger. The woman did not recognise that name, nor had she heard Master speak of it. She then knew that he either wasn't important, or he was very dangerous.
She watched him take a sip of his ale and pulled a face. "Vile stuff just as I thought," he muttered.

The woman did not consider the consequences of telling this Davenarial her name, so what the heck? He gave his name, why shouldn't she?
"My name is Nomadae."

Davenarial smiles and nods his head in acknowledgment *I though she was familiar, now if only I could remember her masters name.* "Well I am glad we have that out of the way, what information would i have to give to get your masters name??" Daven waves away the bartender who offers a drink.

Davenarial nodded his head in aknowledgement and replied, "Well I am glad we have that out of the way, what information would i have to give to get your masters name??"
Nomadae coughed lightly and turned her head away, thinking quietly to herself...
If I tell him, then he might go after him...
Or maybe he will want to work for him...
But what if...

Nomadae remembered that she gave Davenarial a promise that if he revealed her name, she would reveal Masters... Here goes nothing...
"Master's name is Faerlin. That's all I can reveal to you for the moment, Davenarial."

Arcan had been listening to the conversation. His feet were on the table and the bartender didn't seem to mind. "Well I am glad we have that out of the way, what information would i have to give to get your masters name??"
"Master's name is Faerlin. That's all I can reveal to you for the moment, Davenarial." An employer eh? Maybe I can get some work from him. Better get some information first. Arcan got up and walked over to the two. "What's all this talk about a Master eh?" Someone tapped Arcan on the shoulder. "What?" He turned around and took a punch in the jaw. He was sent into a chair and crashed into it. Wood was sent flying in all directions. Arcan got up and wiped some blood of his face. He drew his longsword just as the person threw another punch. This time Arcan parried it and gripped his wrist. He drove his sword through the person's gut and lifted him into the air. He quickly pulled his sword and spun it so it was aligned with the person's leg. He saw a small insignia on the person's shoulder and he had his fist where his sword struck. "Crimson Dagger scum." He threw him across the room and the body crashed into the wall. With the Crimson Dagger agent seemingly dead Arcan returned to the other two. "If you know an employer, tell him that a skilled bounty hunter named Arcan Zarikon is interested." Arcan left the two and talked to the barkeep. "Sorry for the mess. I'd like a room, preferably secluded." "Right this way." The barkeep was a bit nervous but gladly showed Arcan to his room.

Davenarial listened with a smile, and nodded his head "Fair enough lady dear....." then before he can say anything else a man walks up catching Davens attention.

"What's all this talk about a Master eh?", then Daven watched as the man turns to another, and gets punched. And at the end of the fight, the puncher is dead, and Daven looked at the other man who turned back and said "If you know an employer, tell him that a skilled bounty hunter named Arcan Zarikon is interested.". Then before Daven said anything walked away.

Daven looked back to Nomadae, "Well that was interesting."

((Can I join? I need an RP, and this seems like my char's kind of place - well, almost. ^_^ ))

Almost without notice, a young woman slipped into the pub amid the shadows. She heard a crash immediately behind her, but it was merely a good distraction as she slipped into a corner of the room. She was served quickly - deep red wine, spiced - and drank slowly to savor the taste. Much conversation was going on throughout the pub about jobs and what-not - as usual. That was why she came here, though. There was more talk than there was people, and that was often very, very useful.

With the crashing of furniture and bodies, the face of grubby, freckled man popped out from behind the doorframe to the back room, his eyebrows raised quizzically. "Wha' in the blazes...?"

The curious man-child's eyes then went wide with surprise and pain as the bartender cuffed his ears painfully."Get back to work, Snotty! You're not gettin' outta there 'till you WORK for that meal you couldn't pay for." the large, beefy man bellowed. Jamie glared defiantely at his oversized oppressor. "Me name's Jamie, mutton-mouth, an' tha' plate o' steamin' hot horse dung ye fed me hardly even counted fer a meal."

This time the indentured bard managed to dodge the bartender's skull-sized fist as it came swinging for his smug face yet a second time. Screwing his face up and sticking out his tongue to give the bartender a mocking, though immature, taunt, he swiftly disappeared back into the kitchen before the larger man could attempt a third attack.

Naught but a few minutes later, Jamie reemerged from the kitchen, grinning slyly, clapping his hands together as if having completed a heavy task and was rubbing off the dirt. "Done an' done, o' King of Goblin Droppin's." The oversized bartender gave the deceitful young man a severe look of skepticism, before resting his rag - with which he had just been rinsing mugs with - on his shoulder and squeezing his heavy form past Jamie and through the doorway of the kitchen.

Stacks upon stacks of mirror clean dishes lined the small room, so cleanly washed the bartender could practically see his reflection in a plate from across the otherside of the kitchen. Swiveling his beastly fat neck so his small, beady eyes rested on Jamie, he grunted suspiciously. "That should've taken you all night...you've been in here for three hours..."

The red-haired man replied smoothly as he casually examined his finger nails, before brushing them on his shirt. "Well, now...tha's wha' 'appens when ye underestimate Jamie 'Lucky Jack' Redshaw, Dishwasher Extraordinaire, now innit?" The bartender growled, took one last look at the cluttered kitchen and pondered wiping the smirk from the young man's smug-ridden face by ordering him to place all the dishes in their respective cupboards...but thought better of it when he realized he would have to suffer the intolerable attitude of the man if he did.

Turning away, the bartender slowly waddled his way back to his place behind the counter where he resumed rinsing mugs. "Fine. Get out," he grumbled. The now liberated bar let out a loud whoop of joy before stepping briskly out into the main room where he found a small group of adventurers nesstled together around a table.

A mischievious grin slowly slithered across Jamie's freckled cheeks and, much to the bartender's dismay, turned on his heel and approached the sojourners, as opposed to leaving the premises as requested by the barkeep. If there was anything Jamie truly did love in all of Arda's good green earth, it was stories. And, excepting fellow bards, there was no greater resource for stories than passing adventurers. Beaming cheerfully, Jamie stepped up to the table.

"Ahoy!"

Now there was some commotion at a table just a few paces from her own. Tamaile watched, seemingly absent-mindedly, but she was taking in everything around her - sights and sounds alike. She drank her wine as she watched the handsome young man at the bar walk over to the table and holler out, "Ahoy!"

This should be interesting. The man could have been a thief or a gleeman, the way he was dressed. Certainly no court bard, but he had the look of one upon his face - as though he'd just gotten a standing ovation from the queen's personal bodyguards, family, and herself.

Tamaile had to scowl at that thought. Soon she would be queen, and nothing would stop her - unless, of course, this was not Raku's will. For His will was her own, you see - but it mattered not one way or the other. She would follow him even if it was to her own death, for that was the devotion of His strongest supporter...

Just as she said her words, Nomadae noticed a man start a fight a fight with a man, and killed him. Admiration flickered in her eyes as he turned to her and said, "If you know an employer, tell him that a skilled bounty hunter named Arcan Zarikon is interested." Nomadae knew that the Master needed more talented people in his company. This... bounty hunter looked very interesting.

As the Arcan Zarikan followed the barman to his secluded room, Davenarial turned to her and said "That was interesting." I think other people have also found this interesting, Nomadae thought to herself, as she saw a freckled man's head pop up at the door frame and start cursing. This brought a smile to Nomadae's face as she remembered Faerlin's entertaining cursing.

The freckled man wondered over to the bar and said, "Ahoy!" Nomadae blinked and said, "Hello there stranger. Who are you and what are you doing here? It seems that you, too, have noticed the commotion that has happened in this unpredictible bar?" She was full of zest all of a sudden. She did not know if it was the ale, or by the sight of the freckled man, or just the exciting entrance of the bounty hunter...

This man - this odd, probably dangerous man (though he did not look it, of course) - there was something about him that made Tamaile's skin tingle. She realized with a small start that she quickly hid by cracking her neck and knuckles and taking a sip of wine that she was staring at him, and not in an unfriendly way. The way he moved, the handsome features, his talk - everything about him was...well, quite alluring, to be frank. But she was not here for pleasure. She was here for business. She made herself focus on her entire surroundings, not just one man - though it was difficult, and her eyes certainly kept drifting back to him. She had to allow herself a small smile. It was not often that men caught her eye, but when they did, they noticed. And if they didn't, she made them notice. She had half a mind to make this man notice her as well...

((And yes, Saucy Ninja: I was referring to you. ;) ))

((Sweet action. :D ))

Jamie swelled with pride, sticking a thumb into the center of his chest. "Jamie 'Lucky Jack' Redshaw, no less. Taleweaver and Bard Extraordinaire, at yer service. O'couse...ye've prolly already 'eard o' me, so I doubt there was much need fer introduction at all, exceptin' formalities, o'course."

Grabbing a wooden chair from a nearby table - taking notice of the raven-haired beauty a few tables over ((Yes, meaning YOU, Tam ;) )) eyeballing him with the glimmering of an obviously rare smile, and beaming back at her with a sly, knowing wink - Jamie pulled up to the table of the proposed adventurers without asking permission and made himself comforatable.

Resting both hands on the table, he looked about at those already seated there.

"So...what shall we talk abou'...?"

((You charming doll, you! :lol: ))

Ah, so he wasn't as dense as many his type were after all. Good. Maybe she should go over and introduce herself. No...that would be too obvious. Not her style at all. She would have to lure him to her somehow.

Tamaile called the barmaid over. Her drink was still half-full, but she had the woman fill her cup and take a cup of the same over to the young man, on her tab. When he noticed her, she simply raised her cup slightly and offered that same, rare, small smile before continuing to drink.

((This could get interesting. :drool: :D ))

Davenarial looked around with a raised eyebrow, and a slight smile *Place is getting nice and full. And such interesting characters abound.*

Daven nods to Jamie "Well met, I am Davenarial Alexander, and if you know of me I would be highly surprised. And this lovely lady beside me hasn't given me permission do spread her name, so I guess you will have to charm it out of her." Daven looked the man over *No weapons i can see, so he is either very good, or really really stupid. Especially since that bartender is giving him some vary suspicious looks.*

Daven looks back to Jamie who was flirting at a distance with some lady, "Well I was just job browsing, so anything you want to talk about is fine by me."

((GRAWW! I hate week long spats with no computer! Sorrry, everybody, for taking so long to post my bad.))

((Also, @ Tam: Indeed. This could get very interesting. *eyebrow waggle*))

Jamie nodded respectively at the introduction before turning towards the woman and waiting patiently for her to make her own. Rapping his fingers against the table, the young bard seemed either to ignore or to go totally unaware of the silence that had settled upon the table as the eon-lengthed seconds passed. Finally, the awkward moment was broken as the tavern's server girl rested a mug in front of Jamie, along with the compliments of the dark haired woman across the room.

Raising an eyebrow with interest, the now very curious bard swivveled his head until his view rested on his benefactress a few tables away. Returning her tight-lipped smile with a foxy grin, Jamie's eyes glinted mischieviously as he sipped from the complimented mug.

Licking his lips and standing up, Jamie brushed off imaginary dust from his shoulders, turned on his heel, and began strolling towards the woman without a second word to those he had been sitting with up until just momentarily.

Judging from his garb, it was no secret to anyone that Jamie was not the best off, financially speaking. The poverty-stricken street performer wore a filthy tunic, which may have at one point been white - though that fact remained inconclusive, due to the numerous dirt, grass, and other unidentifiable stains littering its entirety. The tunic itself layed open-chested on his skin, - leaving his paled, skinny-ribbed chest bare - its laces now hand-braided together and improvised as a belt to hold up Jamie's equally grubby, oversized, burlap pants.

Over his filthy tunic, the freckle-smitten man has stretched on a red, leather vest which was obviously far too small for him and was missing two of its three brass buttons. Finally, the story-weaver's roughed, worn hands were covered by a pair of raggedy, fingerless gloves, which were so hole ridden they offered little to no protection what to speak of. Truth be told, there was nothing at all exceptional about Jamie's garb, excepting his boots, which were noticebly well cared for, despite their apparent age.

Nonetheless, despite his lacking in proper attire, or even being properly bathed, Jamie marched towards the woman's table with the same pride and dignity as an overly decorated war hero would to recieve yet another medal.

Coming to a halt near the dark-haired beauty, Jamie cleared his throat before bowing deeply while offering his hand out towards her. "Jamie 'Lucky Jack' Redshaw, a' yer service, M'lady."

After taking her hand tentatively in his, Jamie - whom was still in mid-bow - kissed the top of her knuckles, before releasing the pale fingers. Smiling at her with the same charismatic charm he typically reserved for particularly beautiful women, the overly confident man stood back up.

It was at this point that Jamie lessened a great deal of the formality he had spent the past few moments building up, by winking at her childishly, as if this was a bit of a game for him.

((Sorry again for the wait, everbody. My bad.))

Nomadae watched in amusement as a male and a female flirting, with a longing smile on her face. It was a while since she loved someone, although the last time she loved, she was very badly rejected, and didn't take it on as bravely as she thought. She then decided it will be a long time since she would love ever again...
That was four years ago, and now she decided it was too long. It was time that she would take some action here.

Nomadae turned to Davenarial and said, "Isn't it very interesting the way how that... man is towards that woman? Isn't that some sign that they like each other?" She did want to make confirmation, since sometimes people behave strangely, for no apperent reason...

"Isn't it very interesting the way how that... man is towards that woman? Isn't that some sign that they like each other?"

Daven laughed quietly, more of a chuckle than anything else, but not unkind sounding. He turns to Nomadae and smiles "Yes he is flirting like the best of them, and she is in her own way also. Although if he isn't careful he'll get himself into trouble."

Daven looked around the bar yet again *She would be so pretty is she just smiled some* he thought to himself.

Tam let the man do as he pleased, sipping her spiced wine with a smile twisting her full red lips. She set the cup on the table and folded her hands into her lap as she crossed her long, curvy legs, the shape of which were all too clear through her sensuous black layered dress.

And not just my legs attract him, either, I'm sure.

And indeed, the tube-shaped top half of her dress, shining black like some human-shaped snake, clearly accentuated her plump breasts. Then there was the bared flesh above, the shoulders alone covered by her thick black velvet cloak and the rest drawing in those of the male persuasion.

Like flies to honey.

"Tamaile Kinderode."

No need to mention that she was a witch, or that she followed Raku. If all went well, she would be cleaning this young man up fit to make him sparkle and shine and wrapping around her finger like thread around a spool. Men were fools, men had always been fools, and they would never change. The stupidest women seemed to weave deadly webs around men that no man could escape once he had touched. No wonder she admired spiders so much.

But now was not the time for such thoughts. With a slight nod and a knowing smile, she invited him to sit at her table. It wouldn't be long before the man was putty in her fingers, ready to be molded, ready to fly from a rooftop of a great tower to his death on the ground far below at a mere whim. But of course, she would not order such a thing; men were more useful alive than dead, unless they were walking corpses. And that could always be arranged, too, should the need ever present itself. As it was, the man already smelled - but not of death, and not nearly so much as some peasants. Either way, she could fix that. And she could fix his clothes. Not a problem at all.

"So, Master Redshaw. Enjoying the wine?"

The wine I sent you, rather. And you'd better enjoy it, mortal. It is finely spiced, and sweetly delicious. Enjoy it not, and it will be an insult. And you do not want to insult me.

It was a good thing he couldn't read minds, she decided. Or she hoped he couldn't. Because she suddenly had an image of him dangling naked and skinless from a tree by a rope around his feet. Blood dripped on the ground in a pool.

No, it most definitely would not be a good idea to insult her. Tammy didn't like being insulted...

"Yes he is flirting like the best of them, and she is in her own way also. Although if he isn't careful he'll get himself into trouble," Davenarial responded to her question.
Nomadae was confused about what the word flirting meant. She never was a social person, and the only time she really talked was when she was giving orders to followers. The dark assassin felt lost and alone in this new world, and did not want to be left out...

"What is flirting?" asked Nomadae as innocently as she dared. She did not want to offend Davenarial so soon in their conversation, and in case the word was meant to hurt someone.

The other man didn't have a chance to respond, though. Apparently, three - no, four - yes, four people were fighting over some woman. They started beating up on each other, and one of them ended up stabbing the woman. She was dead before she hit the ground. Dead silence flew throughout the tavern like a bird on the wind. Then all hell erupted as the four men began to fight each other again. This started a brawl, and a table - a table! - got thrown Tamaile's way. Had it not been for her being so nimble, she would have been crushed. As it was, she had to crawl out of that tavern.

In the open air again, she watched through the window as she took a deep breath. Whomever was left was still caught in the thirty or so people now engaging in an all-out war. Even the bartender was participating. He had drawn out a rather large and deadly-looking crossbow and was firing bolts as fast as he could load them - and that was pretty fast. Tamaile ducked as one missed its target and crashed through the window. She scowled as she stood up. It was time to leave this place.

Tamaile did just that, and in haste. She wasn't about to get caught in the middle of a miniature war. Especially since the city's guards were now showing up. She hid nearby and watched as a dozen or so guards rushed in. Two were thrown out - very roughly - almost immediately. Both stood and staggered. Then a man came out and beat them down. They were dead. The man received a bolt in the back and fell to the ground, dead himself. And so the battle raged on.

It wasn't long before Tammy had gone far from the battle. She was halfway across town and sighing with pursed lips as she entered another tavern in a very short time indeed...

((Gah...I hate doing that, but this topic is dead and I need threadage. OUT <_< ))