(OOC: my original title was "Drital pub fights: Exploding your face off since 1943!" But I don't know what year it is in Arda, and this topic is kinda serious, so...)

The pub was loud. Extremely loud. It could've been a rock concert, if only electric guitars had been around back in Arda. Two lonely tables sat far back in the darkness of the pub's corners, where the torches and lamps were not lit. There were many tables filled with shady, yet loud and overbearing, drunks, and the bar near the drinks only had two spots open. It was a typical day in the crime-ridden, drunken line between sanity and Satan, also known as the Drital Qu'ellar Pub.

The door to the tavern opened without a noise. But with the racket going on inside, Drake could've used a mace on the door and nobody would have heard it. However, even with his light, padded footsteps, his effortless, silent closing of the door, and his lean, dark figure moving slowly into the pub, nearly half the heads turned to see him. A chill suddenly fell over him, though he did not know fear for his own safety. something about twenty criminals turning to scope you out managed to unnerve even the bravest of heroes, or the most devilish of villains.

The first thing the pub-goers (NPC's) noticed was his cloak, billowing and yet mostly covering his body. The second thing they noticed were the shackles clamped to his wrists, two inches of chains held in his hands to silence the jingling. Broken chains meant broken prison cell, most of them knew. To escape from a cell was no big deal for the pub-goers in Drital Qu'ellar, but never once had they seen steel-reinforced chains holding iron clamps in one of the jails they frequented.

Drake moved in silently and slowly, attracting far more attention than he wanted; at least 70% of the people now saw him. A hush fell over the tavern, and Drake couldn't help but think of stories once read to him about heroes who frequented taverns, always watched and approached by the very men they came to rid the town of. (OOC: I lol at your Western movies) However, Drake wasn't here to gather information, or expel convicts and outlaws from the bars. He was here to enjoy a drink, and be left alone. However, as he sat down at the bar in between a large Orc with blood-red dreadlocks and a small, blond elven girl with, no doubt, at least thirty knives hidden somewhere on her body, he realized that being left to himself wasn't an option.

(OOC: Enter the reader...)

IC: Lalandria walked in behind two others. One attracted all the attention with his oh so obvious better chains from a better prison than most inside would have ever seen. He and the other person took the last two seats. She frowned and walked in the man's wake of attention. The little Elvin girl he had taken a seat next to, obviously disliking the eyes that the man had drawn, quickly got up and left. Lalandria took her seat and smiled at the barkeeper. Even though it was crowded, he brought her favorite drink first. In return she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

She glanced at the man next to her. He seemed to be taller than her, and unlike most of those inside the room, quiet. She turned to face him fully with her back pressed against the bar, and her elbow resting upon it. In the hand away from the bar she held her drink easily.

"So what are you doing here?" she asked eyeing the man with a smile, meaning to be friendly.

What could she say; she was bored, and felt like talking. He seemed like he might actually be able to hold a coherent conversation, unlike the person on her other side. Plus, he was new, different. It was always smart to know what was happening around you


OOC: Don't worry I love both titles. Sorry for the bad writing, I'm a bit off today.

Drake looked down at the small elven girl, wondering why she amongst all others had spoken first. Out of all the frequent trouble-makers who hated strangers, a polite little girl had spoken up first. He noticed the drink in her hand and the casual air that emanated from her, and thought that she could not only hold her liquor, but she seemed a peaceful type.

He noticed the beautiful hair falling down in lavish curls around her, and thought she looked quite mature for her age. She had mesmerizing eyes with more colors than usual, and she was overall the very thing he and many others had come to expect of elves, but more. Beautiful, yet casual. When he spoke, his voice was as low as the ocean floor, quite as the fields of Salquedor, and friendly and smooth as the Aelin Lake on a sunny day.

"I just want a drink, really. Though, I suppose some nice company and a chat wouldn't be too bad. As long as these fools," he continued quietly, motioning with his head towards the rowdy crowds who'd continued their fun and games, "leave me be. I've never been a good fighter, mind you."

He pulled out a bag with (he noticed painfully) but enough gold for a single drink, and ordered a small cup of ale. Mead had never sat well with him, and getting drunk wasn't why he enjoyed the alcohol. It had always been about strengthening and training. If you could fight while intoxicated, you could probably fight while poisoned, he figured. That, and he had always enjoyed the taste of ale. He looked back for half a second as another walked in.

Lalandria smiled at the man as he said he wasn't good fighter. How else had he ended up in prison that good if he hadn't killed or abused someone important? Plus, how he glanced back through all the noise of the pub to notice that someone else had walked in was impressive. No, the man could fight.

"I wouldn't lie so obviously if I was you. People here can smell a lie a mile away even if you didn't look and react completely opposite to your lie," she said eyeing him up and down.

"You need to follow through with it, not noticing when everything happens," she said flashing him a smile.

He had ordered ale, how sweet. He wasn't one to get drunk then. She herself was drinking a rather strong drink, rather close to vodka, but it was only in a small glass. She wouldn't drink anymore.

"What is your name then, dangerous criminal?" she said sipping from her glass.

"Saw the chains, eh?" He smiled at her sweetly.
"My name is, unfortunately, Drake. For a while, I liked the sound of it. Reminded me of dragons, of course. However, when I found that it also meant a male goose, I wasn't too pleased." He was as easy to read as a book, and he had other reasons for disliking his name. He drained the ale quickly and sighed, giving the empty, stained glass back to the bartender. Turning around and resting up against the bar, his hands on his legs, Drake looked at the girl once again.
"So... what's your name, my companion?"

A sad smile on his face, he attempted to greet happiness head-on.

"The chains are kind obviouse, you know," Lalandria said with a wink.

She liked how he smiled then. It was sweet almost cute. His mention of how his name meant a male goose aswell as dragon put a wide grin on her face. Her grin slipped slightly as he downed the ale and looked back at her with a sad smile. For once Lalandria felt like perhaps doing a favor for someone. The man obviously needed some cheering up, and if there was one thing she could do, it was preform. Making people happy was a very important part of performing.
"
I am Lalandria," she said bowing , still perched on the stool. Her hand giving a flourish as if she was on stage. Her drink never spiling a drop.

"But please call me Dre, it's shorter," she said with a flash of a smile.

"I like your name. Kind of eloquent, you know?" He smiled again, looking around. A dark silence fell over the tavern as the door quietly creaked open. Some shady character had walked in. Most hid their heads, others whispered quietly to their fellow drunks, throwing looks in Drake's direction every now and then. Then, it became obvious who had walked into the door when they called out in a heroic, loud voice.
"Attention foolish criminals, I am here for the man known as the scourge of the lands! Drake, show yourself!"
Drake sighed, turning back towards the bar slowly, pulling his cowl back on.

(OOC: Sorry it took so long to post, I can only be on during school as my interwebz died.)

Lalandria smiled back at him. No one had ever described her name as eloquent.

Then the men walked in. She saw who they were and rolled her eyes. Then they announced, quite loudly that they were looking to her discussion partner right there. She did not like that. She had been working more than usual lately and had been enjoying the conversation so far. Now they were coming and about to ruin this fantastic talk they were having, which was not consisting of drunken grunts, like those around them. This angered her. Not like they really cared unless it was someone important that was hurt. No, a child raped in the corner was alright as long as the man committing the crime didn't get dirt on those so high up. Lalandria hated heroes in general, and this one's heroic voice irritated her to no end.

She shot another wink at Drake as he covered himself with the cape. She got up with the drink in hand and smiled insolently at the shadowy figure.

"This Drake, I have not heard of him and it is a bard’s job to know the stories of all villains and heroes. What is his story? For I would like to tell of his misdeeds to all, so that they may know who and why to tell," she said with another beautiful bow and flourish. Once again not a drop was spilled.

A young man wearing simple clothes walked through the door at that moment, nearly running into one of the men standing there (the "heros"). He wore simple, ragged clothes (similar to peasent garb, but not quit as bad) and had an ancient looking sword on his hip. Surprised, he tripped over himself trying to avoid the man in front of him, drawing a few chuckles from the bar patrons. This boy, as some may say, did not belong here.

Despite the young boy's faceplant, Drake did not feel like laughing. The hero who the boy had almost tripped over helped him up without a second thought, a wide smile on his face. The one in the middle of the group of now three heros stood silently, staring quizzically at the bard. He held his hand out and the man to his left handed him a small, slightly burnt paper. Unfurling it, the "hero" in the middle read out loud Drake supposed crimes.
"Theft, two counts of murder, fleeing law officials, aggravated assault, and arson of a government building. The bounty on this man is... well, I shall not say. You will tell me where he is if you know him, patrons, or I shall exact proper authority and shut down this pub." Nobody moved, some ignoring him. The three stood still as an awkward silence fell over the bar. Drake took a glass and filled it up himself, draining it and standing up.

The young man that had just tripped, hearing these words about a bounty, stood up as high as he could, attempting to see the bounty's value. Catching glimpse of it over the man's shoulder, as he was quit forgotten by now, his eyebrows raised about as high as they could go. Coming softly back down on his heels, the man's hand drifted slowly to the hilt of his ancient sword.

As Drake turned to meet the gaze of the three heros, he pulled his hood back. Gold glinting in his eyes, a katana was suddenly in his hand. He did not feel like talking today. The middle hero pulled from his back a large claymore, pointing it at Drake one-handed. His spiky, brown hair came down slightly in the front, covering one eye almost entirely. He had a slash mark on his left cheek, and anger-filled green eyes. He wore a strange mixture of a chainmail shirt and a desert garb, a long red sash around his shoulders. Leather boots tied securely to his feet and leather pants blackened by fire, the hero meant business.
"And who might you be... Drake? Or an acquaintance?" Drake stared on, determination and hate in his eyes. He noted the latest addition had also readied his weapon, though an interesting stance he was in. Sword sheathed, but ready, like the samurai from Drake's home country. Drake held his katana out in front of him, vertically, tilted slightly forward towards the mercenary, or whatever it was. The human didn't stand a chance against Drake alone, but he had two friends and somebody who seemed to back him up from behind. Finally, Drake spoke. It was soft, quiet, and only he and Lalandria could hear it.
"Maybe if I bum-rushed them, I could barrel through and escape without hurting anybody." The boy behind the mercenaries might've heard it, but Drake didn't care. All he cared about was that nobody would bleed today. If somebody had to, it would be Drake. The middle hero spoke again.
"For your crimes, I sentance you. Fear not, I will make your death swift."

Moving as fast as he could, though it could not be described as amazingly fast, it was fast enough, the man behind the heros finished undoing the string which tied his scabbard to his belt. Grabbing it by the hilt of the sword, and almost half-way down the scabbard, he hefted it back, and brought the tip forward into the back of the right (left from Drake's point of view) neck. The hero was downed immediately, later he could be pronounced dead or alive, but the man had other things on his mind at the moment.. The man then used his left hand to pull the scabbard from his ancient looking blade, revealing a slightly rusted, but still sharp sword underneath, which was being brought to a defensive position.

As the man listed the chargers Lalandria's eyes went up slowly. She had heard worse but not many could beat that and not mentioning the bounty. Well that meant it was high, very high. The boy that tripped caught her eye for a moment but she kept her attention on the heroes.

"Well a song will have to be sung for those that do capture this criminal. Make their memories last for years to come," she said with a smile.

Then Drake, very stupidly in Lalandria's point of view, stood up sand took off his hood. Then they all went to the whole hero I am better than you look at my pretty sword contest as usual. Lalandria felt like rolling her eyes but got slightly distracted by Drake's comment. No bloodshed, likely that would be.

"Go ahead kill them. It's not like they would hesitate killing any of us," she said in a whispered tone and making a motion at the rest of the room.

Of course the boy had to get in it as well. They were all idiot truly. Give it one more minute and the rest of the bar would get into the fight. No one here particularly loved heroes. Lalandria began to move slightly back towards the bar, fingering the knives up her sleeves. The competition swords gave those more of a reach than she liked facing with swords. She watched silently but intently as for what would happen next..

The boy's movements were a Godsend. Distracted by only a second, (though Drake needed only half,) the heroes were made into easy targets. Drake dashed past Lalandria, his sword suddenly out of sight, and drove his right fist into the poor leader's jaw. There was a pressure point in the chin, Drake knew, that made instant knock-outs a breeze for someone with good aim. Drake had good aim, and the hero had bad balance. He hit the floor.

Somebody from the tables in the back stood, and Drake raised his left hand up passively, signaling for no need of help. They sat back down, and Drake was quick to note the lack of enthusiasm in the room. Now, only the hero on the right ( the boy's left) was left standing, his sword not even ready, and the odds seemed impossible. Hell, they were impossible. So the man escaped. Fleeing out the door much faster than they had come, the last standing bounty hunter was no longer an issue.

Now, the man who had been struck in the neck was struggling on the ground, and the "hero" was out cold. A quick ending to a pointless fight, Drake thought. He looked to the man/boy who had helped and nodded slightly.
"What's your name?"

The "boy" that Drake spoke brought his sword up to Drake's neck. "Give me one good reason not to turn you in and collect the bounty myself and we may strike a deal," He said. "And if you call me boy again, that one reason won't really matter." The point inched closer, nearly tuoching skin now, there was no way to get out of this one for Drake.

Lalandria guessed what the boy was going to do. The boy was probably older than her but that had never really bothered Lalandria when she addressed people. When the men had been running out, she had snuck towards the door. That was a smart move any way, if you wanted to get away from a fight. The kid had put his sword at Drake's neck. Lalandria moved up behind him, quickly sliding the knife out from under her sleeve. She put it under his arm, right above the artery. If the kid twitched he would split an artery and probably die, unless he had some powerful healing spell or what not.

"Now, now boy, let my conversation partner go. I have had a stressful week and might twitch. You wouldn't want either of us to do that would you? I think you don't want to die, dearie. Let us all walk away peacefully and have a nice drink and laugh afterwards, pretend like this never happened. I'm being generous here boy, I might even sing you a song if you would like," she said whispering into his ear.

Her body was pressed up behind him, completely restricting his movements. From the point of view of most of the bar it probably looked as if she was hugging him and begging him to let Drake go. It was of course the complete opposite. Lalandria wasn't one to beg on others accounts.

If he moved to cut Drake's throat he would die, unless he had something up his sleeve of course. There was always a possibility. Now if the kid moved on her, she was guessing Drake would probably be able to deal with the boy then and cover her. He seemed like the kind of man that would.

After a moments pause, he (the "boy") said, "Seems reason enough for me. Would you kindly allow me to lower my sword?" The second part directed toward the woman behind him, as he looked down at the knife on his arm. "Oh, and sorry about that, but I've come from a poor town to seek my fortuen, as my grandfather did, and this seemed like a good way to start." He looked at the woman behind him, "Or at least it did, it's a little more complicated than I expected..."

Drake stared at the "man" for a moment, taking him in fully for the first time. He didn't look half bad with a sword, but he was nothing for two opponents, which Drake specialized in. He reached up slowly and grabbed both the sword to his neck and the knife at the man's arm, lowering both slowly.
"Here's your reason. Do we need any more violence in these times? I think not. Here's another reason," he continued, turning and walking towards the bar. He filled the drink back up once more without paying, and drained it. Turning back, he finished his sentence.
"Whether you knew it or not, the only reason I didn't move away was because I saw Lalandria behind you. I knew that you wouldn't do anything too far against your own protection. You're too worried about your own well-being to fight people like me. I don't mean to insult, but when your opponent doesn't care if his throat is cut, how can you threaten him to make a deal? And one last thing," he said, just as the bartender approached, "My apologies for calling you boy. You're just a lot smaller than me. How old are you?"

Lalandria didn't like how easily he decided he could just lower her knife like that. Who was he to tell her there was enough violence in the world? At the moment she was liking the boy more than Drake. She didn't show her annoyance though and instead put on a smile and patted the kid on the back.

"Can't apologize for my calling you boy, I try to treat everyone the same, and sorry to say, I treat everyone poorly. Its my little way of getting back at the world," she said to him with a wink.

"Now as for you Drake," she said walking over to him, finally allowing the irritation to show on her face," I would appreciate for you not to assume that you can lower my weapons with out my permission next time."

She reached the bar and sent the bartender a wink. He smiled at her and gave her another glass of her favorite. She had put it aside when moving towards the door, and someone had drank it by the time their buisness had finished. She quickly perched herself on the same seat as before and smiled at Drake and the other boy agian, and patted the seat next to her.

"Come join, let us all be friends now. Tell me kid, why did you leave a family, if poor, to come to the slums like this. I have lived in this place most of my life, and trust me, it is no place to find your fortune," she said sending him a sympathetic smile.

Drake looked back at the bartender. He had suddenly stopped approaching him. The wink from Lalandria must have made him forget about Drake's two free drinks. Sighing, Drake sat down at his seat right beside the elf as the rest of the bar settled back in to its usual ruckus. The poor hero was suddenly gone, having woken and slipped out during Lalandria's speech. The other was still just managing to stand, staggering out the door barely fast enough to not get hit by it on the way out. Looking at the man that Drake now realized was older than he, Drake turned his back to the bar in order to hear his response to Drake's earlier question.
"Sorry for the interruption, but how old are you again?" Drake's sword, the long Akaviri katana, was out of sight. How he could hide it was a mystery, but the bigger mystery was whether or not he had done those crimes.

"I'm old enough." He said. "The name is Sorte, Sorte Vantor. These 'slums', as you say, are just where I've ended up after a long line of asking around. Seems the best place to find some excitment, if not gold." Seeing no empty stools, Sorte stands. "And yes, so you don't wonder too hard, I am probablly older than both of you." Seeing the bartender looking at him, Sorte shakes his head (in a no motion), and the bartender moves on.

Drake thought for a moment, the bar's ruckus growing a little. He had heard the name before, possibly. No direct memory came to him, so he dismissed it. Speaking up, his voice growing bored once more, he said, "Well, Sorte, I know where the bounty office is. If you have a map of Lomedor, I could mark it for you. Then you could find bounties and information easily. One condition though: Don't ever try me again, or I'll have your head." When Drake spoke, he had pulled his hood back up. It did a perfect job of casting shadows over his eyes and nose, leaving only his mouth visible (just barely). When he spoke those last few words, his eyes glinted slightly, just barely showing gold in the darkness of his hood.

While Drake enjoyed fighting, he still wished he wouldn't have to. Therefore, he usually tried to intimidate people out of it, and it usually worked. He could tell it wouldn't on this man, Sorte, however. He looked a bit too confident for Drake's liking. A few people turned to see if another conflict was brewing.

"Hey, your girl here allready showed me it wasn't a good idea to mess with you," Sorte said, winking at Lalandria. "Anyway, yeah, that'd be nice. I guess I could try a few bounties to get started." Looking around again, Sorte sits on the floor, seeming as comfortable as if on a cushioned chair. "Am I allowed your names?" He said, scanning the two at the bar.

"Now, now Sorte, it is very nice to meet you and all, but I wouldn't be leaping to assumptions if I were you. I am no one's girl, and will never be anyone's girl," she said truly annoyed. Where had he gotten such an idea? Lalandria had never been anyone's girl, not even her father's.

"Don't worry we all make mistakes. My name is Lalandria but please call me Dria. It's shorter," she said, sending a wink in Sorte's direction.

Looking at Lalandria, Sorte says. "Sorry, I wasn't implying that you two were, you know, together or anything. I should have asked your name, so as to be more specific." Leaning over, so as to avoid the bartender as he steps over-around him while carrying some drinks, Sorte says. "So, anything interesting happen lately? I've been a bit bored, though I admit, that 'scuffle' did dent it the bordome a bit."

(OOC: Sorry, but if you look at my topic in the absence section, you'll understand. Hopefully.)

Drake looked at the two. It was almost funny how they acted with each other. He smiled a bit and answered Sorte's question, his voice lighter now.
"My full name is Drake Ducaste, and if you would give me your map, I would mark the bounty office on it. Otherwise, I'm afraid I don't have much to speak about. Sorry, Lalandria, since I know you were enjoying our conversing." He fell silent, waiting for Sorte to hand him the map. He knew that any second now, Lalandria would become agitated with him again. All the bar's patrons were back to their fun and games once more, the dirty bar filled with drunken laughter and the occasional falling idiot. A fight even broke out between two men and an elven man. As no swords were drawn, Drake stayed out of it. The elf was beaten badly and thrown from the pub. Outside, he dusted himself off and stormed away angrily.

"I don't think I'll ever get used to this place..."

"What this? It's calm today," she said looking around the bar with a comfortable smile on her lips.

She was getting bored and though bordom was bliss, Lalandria felt the urge to do something, so she pulled out her lyre. She tuned the instrument and began to strum it in a calm little tune. This was a nice evening, she thought smiling to herself.

She began to hum to the happy little tune she was creating. The bartender came over and sat down his stool infront of her. Leaving his patrons to wait a moment or two. Lalandria's own relaxed manner and song seeming to sufuse him and perhaps afew of those around her. These kinds of songs were not her strong point, but all of her songs had such affects on her audience. Lalandria was enjoying this feeling breath of freedom which was as happy as she ever got, a crack of hope for the broken, abandoned soul that she was.

A nice tune. A calm tune. Drake hated them, sometimes. These times were now. He just shook his head silently. He wished he could close his mind to all sound. This day was going nowhere fast. He knew that if something didn't happen, his companions would simply drift from him. He needed to be around others, after his years of being alone. Though he did not know it, he needed people. Friends. If only they would help him with his numerous tasks, but he knew they wouldn't. His face plainly showed his pain even from under his hood. If these two were just another pair he would lose so easily, then why bother putting effort into anything? But if he didn't try, he'd never know.
"Hey... would either of you feel like companying me through something? I have... things to do. Things that would be more fun, as well as profitable, with some extra hands. If you have a question about it, just ask."

"Hell, that's what I came for," Sorte Says. "Fun and profit. I'll be the first in line werever thsoe can be found, at a reasonable rate of risk to return." He looks at Lalandria. "Very nice by the way. A bit boring for my tastes, but nice all the same." He says, stretching his legs, being granted an audible pop from both knees.

Lalandria looked at both men calmly as Drake stated his proposal and Sorte agreed. She stopped playing and put away the lyre, thinking all the time. Dria knew better than to accept something like that with out more information.

"Thank you, but this style isn't what I'm best at," Lalalndria said to Sorte's comment.

She then turned her full gaze to Drake and studdied him, the flecks of green and gold in her nearly black eyes, and the illusionary streams of flame that seemed to run through her hair, gave her an etheral look in the bars lighting.

"What do you have in mind? Considering you just got out of jail, I don't know how good you are. I don't want to agree to something that will get me killed," she said, blunt as usual, but her voice, still harmonic from her singing, gave it the sound of double meaning and perhaps the hint of prophecy.

At the moment Lalandria looked and sounded as elven as she ever got.

Drake looked quizzically at the girl. After hearing such a quick and sounding "yes" from Sorte, he was afraid Lalandria's questioning would jeopardize his other partner's agreement as well. He may have once been a criminal, but that didn't mean he would let his friends die. Even if he barely new them, he had a hunch they would be together for a long time. He answered slowly, thinking with with his hand on his chin.
"I guess you'll have to trust me, huh? I don't really have much information on my little 'quests,' but I have some papers..."

He pulled out three pieces of paper (though Sorte and Dria noticed him start to pull out a fourth, then slip it back into his cloak). They were dried and slightly crumpled, but had fancy writing on each. They looked slightly official, like something posted on a bulletin board or something. He spread the three out in front of him. A picture on each, they represented his targets or places where the tasks would take place.
The first showed a picture of a powerful looking vampire lord.

It described him as a terrible beast, placing a VERY large bounty on his head. Yet, Sorte noticed it wasn't as big as Drake's... He had apparently attacked an entire small village, turning each and every person into his followers by himself. He had amassed a small army and his last seen location was an island out in the Palanen Ocean.

The next showed a picture of a small Fort, whose entrance had been sealed from the inside. Apparently, it had once been used for housing soldiers during the last war in secret, but monsters had appeared from nowhere. The papers said that anybody who contracted the disease these monsters held would slowly turn, and all of the soldiers had contracted it. Thus, they sealed themselves inside using simple building materials.

The third held no picture, but was a simple little task of finding a goblin base in a forest west of Lomedor and ransacking it. The goblins had been stealing from nearby towns and such for a long time, and had stolen a small fortune. Drake was expected to steal all of this back by himself, bringing it back to every village or town it came from.

It all looked a little complicated, or far off, but the pay was always nice. Drake let the two others read them, sitting back.
"Well...?"

(OOC: You like the pictures? ^^)

Sorte scanned the three papes. "Well...they pay nice," He paused. "I vote a start with the goblins, that seems the least dangerous. You know, easiest to hardest. Besides, I'm a bit new to this, not totally green, but new." He looked at Dria. "What do yo uthink?"

IC: When Lalandria saw him almost pull a fourth page out then slip it back in, she was instantly suspiciouse. This was almost completely thrust out of her mind when she spotted there was writing on the page though. She wanted to curse, badly, but decided the two around her really weren't the type, even if one was a criminal.

Why did everything have to be written? She had just learned to read simple things a couple of days ago and she saw how quickly Sorte scanned the pages. Anger growled at the back of her mind but instead of paying attention to it, she turned her full attention to the papers in front of her. Atleast two had pictures she thought to herself as she formed the words slowly, her lips moving slowly. It was silent for a moment or two as she read the first one. It was a couple of lines but that was enough for her to balk a little. Powerful vampire lord? She had never met vampires, but what she had heard, they were very hard to kill.

SHe then went onto the next one, taking a long time as well. She could feel the other two's gazes but she made herself stay focused. She finished it, and this sounded more within her reach, but she wasn't totally certain still. Caution had kept her alive for many years, and she would stay to it.

The last one had no picture, so it took her longer than the last one to read and figure out what it ment. Once she did she sat back, and leaned against the bar. SHe sipped her drink and thouhgt carefully. What to do? What to do?

"I have never faught a vampire, but I've heard they're not exactly easy to kill, and that's putting it mildly. In general I only know how to fight from experience and defense nothing more. I have never faught for money, so I am not sure if I would be the best choice. I might still go if you will accept me though," she said. Her voice was even, not reluctant, just informative, telling it how it was.

OOC: Ilove the pictures! :lol:

Drake had noticed how long it had taken her to read. To tell the truth, it kind of pissed him off. How could a grown person have so much trouble with words? It just wasn't right in his mind. He was a very fast reader, and it had taken less than thirty seconds for him to read them when he first picked them out. It didn't matter, he thought, because she was quick and deceptive. A good rogue, he knew, and she would be quite helpful if they ran into any sort of human enemies.

He held up the goblin paper, putting the others into his bag. He waved it ever so slightly, getting his companions attention. Resting his head on his other hand, he spoke quietly but quite forcefully.
"We're taking the goblins then. Two days' time to prepare, if that. Take anything you need, as this may be a little trek from town, if you understand. The forest isn't very friendly to newbies, either." He looked at Sorte when saying that final part; Drake had lived in the forests for years, and knew how they worked better than most rangers or goblins. He had once had the ability to listen to the woods, hear the voices of the forest's spirits, but two years in prison changed all of that. Now, he was back to square three with nature. Or at least two.

He placed the paper down on the table, raising a finger to the bartender (I'll have another, please). The bartender just looked at him like 'Oh please, as if you have money,' and Drake sighed. He produced from his pocket a single, shimmering coin. It was one of great value, and covered his past two freebies and at least four more drinks.
"Give all of us one ale and keep it." The bartender nodded, fetching the drinks. Drake turned to his companions.
"Well, my friends, we should drink to this greatness. A party consisting of a bard, sword fighter, and a wandering soul. Hopefully we make it past the town gates, eh?" He smiled and laughed heartily. It was nice to see Drake truly happy.

Lalandria smiled at Drake's expression. He seemed truly happy, which was something she had rarely seen and only experienced once or twice. For a moment her eyes turned down and her expression matched almost perfectly that of a sad child being kept away from a candy bar, that was almost within it's grasp. THe expression was a quick flicker and could have been blamed by the lighting. When she looked back up her smile was restored.

"Truly we'll be a party to live on through the memory of song," she said in playful sarcasm, joining in wiht his laugh.

Perhaps, it wouldn't be the doom that something in the depths of her soul was telling her it would be. Perhaps she would get to know someone, truly get to know. The thought brought the feeling of loneliness she had experienced all her life to light and almost caused her to wince. She quickly covered this by passing her hand over her eye to push some hair behind her ear. The wall that had begun to lower in her mind quickly snapped back up. Trust betrayed was somthing no one wanted to experience and Lalndria had experienced it too many times before to let it happen again.

"Ehh, I've been in my share of forests," Sorte said, slightly offended. "But I must say, never in a goblin infested one. Anyway, two days sounds good. It'll give me time to find stores, and buy their equipment." He smiled slightly, as if that had been funny, which he though it was..."So, just to avoid any conflict later, we split the bountry three ways, correct? And anything else, split as we see fair I say, as we have need for weapons and the such, and three ays for the money. Agreed?" He attmempted to hide his newness and excitment, but it didn't completely work. He had a fire in his eye that said there was no way he could fail, no way they could fail.

"Eager arn't we," Lalandria said glancing Sorte over her glass. He really was different than she was used to.

"That sounds good as long as you keep your side of the bargian," she said eyeing him. He might try to take more, the likely hood of him succeeding seemed unlikely to her, but who knew? It could all be a trick.

"Fine, it's settled then. We move at dawn, maybe?" Drake put away his things, drinking the last of his ale. It tasted sweet, and he seemed to think of it as a good omen. Drake knew that, if you put your mind to it, you could do anything. and he always put his mind to it.
"I say, just gather some weapons and armor if you need them, get some food, and we can head out the next day. If we head out by dawn, we can reach there before the rains start." The rains around and in the forest were never a good thing, being as cold as it was. Drake felt surprisingly happy. Maybe he'd finally made some friends.

The devil's eye, winking out slowly, gleamed in the sky, a crescent, nonetheless, darkness always brought trouble. Aralishia was in an irritable mood. If only a peaceful tavern would be nearby, she would relax, but Ara didn't want to be with people, and alas this brought about her irritability. A loudness grew in a tavern nearby. Ara clutched her sword. It had become second nature to her, but her bow would always be what she preferred, but her bow she had naught, so she continued to walk up and down the streets irritably, but there was no waver in her birdlike pace. She either flew across the ground, or walked. She didn't like the feel of jogging, or walking quickly, if you're in a hurry, why not run? These thoughts only made her more cross. The tavern was beside her now, the noise seemed to quiet, but all the same, Ara resigned and decided to walk into the tavern.

She got close and studied the bar. Rogues, criminals, she had a distaste for the like of them, and then again, she was a criminal herself. Perhaps not a criminal, she decided, but a shady buisness. A spy, how she hated the term. You seemed to spit when you said it, as if disgracing her, she couldn't stand it. But she needed the money. Well, people like these always have something to be done, dont they she thought, and she grinned. She had planned on sliding into the bar without causing disturbance. She would, most likely, cause trouble, quite quickly, but she didn't want to walk straight into a fight, she found herself in a position of weakness, often to naught having no idea why she was in the fight, and yet she was always in one. She walked quietly in the bar, or so she had wished to...

OOC: I like trouble, so does she. Hehehe. Feel free to have me stumble into a fight with Drake and whats-his-name. My sword is getting cold. ^_^ :lol:
BWAHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!