Zémire hardly wandered in the wilderness for long, she always found herself coming back to towns and cities for the comfort if beds. She hated sleeping on the hard cold ground, she bet no one really liked it. But since she wasn't from this land, and from a far off one, she had to travel a long time, having to rest on the ground, never finding a good place. Now that she got here, she was cheerful, in one of her good moods, though, that didn't stop her hate of almost everything living.

She walked into the city, dressed in a black wavering skirt that went to her ankles, and a long sleeved black top, and then some traveling boots. Her long black hair was down, and blew in the brisk breeze that went by.

She hated the cold. Another thing she hated.

In the village, people worked, but she never even glanced at them, she thought herself better then them, always, better then them. She held her head high, as she walked into the tavern, hoping to be able to play to earn some gold for herself, but sadly, there was another bard there. She glowered. "No matter." She mumbled to herself, and went in search for an empty table.

Since night was coming nearer, more and more people enter, after work, and other things. It wasn't that hard to see a empty table, so she wandered over there, and pulled out a chair. The table was placed near where the other bard performed, and it annoyed her to hear such cheery music. In taverns, she had to play that type of music, even though, she never liked it much, she liked songs that filled everyone with dread, she always found that music captivating.

She tapped her fingers on the table, a beat to the song the bard sang. Suddenly, she clenched her hand in a fist, annoyed at herself how she let herself think of that music.

Gil-Estel sat at a small table in the corner of the small but cheery tavern, his eyes were shadowed by his hood and his bow and arrows were hidden from view by his cloak. Despite his noble upbringing, Gil-Estel had always liked being in places like this. Being here meant he had to keep up none of the pretentions his parents would like to think he was keeping. Gil-Estel often worried about the fate of his people. Once a noble and chivalrous race, the elves were slowly fading from the world, and were taking less of an active role in the day-to-day life of the other, younger races. But not him, not Gil-Estel. And that was why he was here, rather than on the battlefield upon which his father and brothers were waiting.

Just as Gil-Estel was getting used to the very un-elven music being played by a jolly (if rather imposing) bard, the door to the tavern opened and in walked a pretty Tiefling (for a member of the youger races of course!). She was young, even by Tiefling standards, were she an elf, she would not yet be anywhere near adolescence.

Gil-Estel watched the Tiefling (Zémire was her name) walk across to a small table and sit down. Even from this distance, and through this crowd, he could see that she was agitated. She seemed momentarily to calm herself and tapped her fingers to the music, but suddenly she was back on the alert, correcting herself for letting her guard down.

There was no backing out now. She really was here, now he had to find out the truth. Slowly he rose and approached the small table where she was sitting.

Roncho was sitting at a table, sorrounded by rowdy men taking bets at the match that was about to begin. In front of him, an ogre sat there with a large beastly grin. "Are you going to sit there smiling at me or are you going to get on with it." Roncho rowdily yelled. He held out an open hand on the table and the ogre grabbed it an the match began. Arm wrestling, beast against beast, a large ogre against a troll. But slowly but surely Roncho pushed back his opponent. When the arm slammed down onto the table the large flagons of ale jumped up into. Cheers went up from parts of the crowd and bets were collected. "Oh come on when I offered my challenge I didn't mean for babies." The ogre's face turned red with embarrassment, He was head taller than Roncho yet he got beat so fast. "Oi, buy me a drink, ale, and get me a whole boar, and be quick that was the bet." The ogre gave a grimace and left to get the drink.

The door opened and seconds later men's heads snapped to whoever was in the door. Roncho's back was to the door so he turned around and saw a attractive teifling walking into the inn. Head held up high as if she was royalty sorrounded by criminal scum. " Hey roncho, get a look at that." One of the drunkards was exclaiming. "I'm not that kind of Troll." She sat down and looked pissed. "I wonder whats her problem." She looked like she was ready to pounce in the first thing that came up to her. "she could probally be a source of a job, I've had nothing to do for the past few weeks." He thought to himself.

The ogre approached yet again with a extremely large tankard and a waitress but a large platter with an entire boar upon it. "ha now thats a boar, maybe next time I'm low on drinking money I'll challenge you again." The ogre gave a grimmace and left the inn. He stared at the misterous woman yet again to catch an elf walking up to her as if he was going to collect something. Roncho shrugged then spun around to look at his prize for a bit and began to feast upon the spoils from his victory.

((OOC: So sorry about my late reply... I just got so very busy with Imythess (As I am a admin there) and with life being a little hectic... but now I have time to reply! ^^))

Zémire sat straight, and unmoving for a while, as she tried to block the noise of that dreadful cheery music. It made her head throb with annoyance, and it was clear upon the tieflings face. Any who walked by, who saw her annoyed look, would know not to bother her, but still, a waitress came over, though, Zémire saw that the girl had hesitated slightly, and that made the tiefling smirk a little.

"Can I get you anything, miss?" The waitress asked the tiefling. Zémire turned to look at the girl, and gave her an annoyed look.

"No, I'm just going to sit here bored out of my mind, listening to that blasted music! Of course I want something." She snapped at the girl, who flinched, and stepped back a little. Turning her voice a little softer, the tiefling spoke again, "get me some elven wine. And I want a room for the night." Right after she said that, the waitress, turned and went off to get what Zémire wanted.

Smiling cruelly, she turned her head towards some ogres and a troll, and her smile left, and disgust was in her eyes. Such creatures like those were hideous, as she believed, and thought most would think so. She watched them a moment, before she noticed someone coming towards her, and her head snapped up, and looked at the elf.

"Can I help you?" She asked the elf coldly. She put her hands on her lap, as she stared up at him. Her darks eyes showing nothing but coldness.

"Now that is a great boar, love the seasonings... waiter may I get a copy of the recipe I am truly impressed!" Roncho was truly impressed by this boar. Yet something made it a bit less enjoyable, the stare of the teifling woman that almost seemed to take him back to the ice cold winters in his home mountains where the winds would seem to get under the skin and freeze the very bones. He finished his mug of ale with a loud bleach, some people stared at him in disgust "What, where I come from that is a symbol of being pleased with one's meal." He looked around to see the elf talking to the woman. He turned to the door opening to dodge a glass bottle that was aimed at his head, it flying past him and clashing on the wall behind hum, the booze dribbling down the wall. He looked to who threw the bottle...

He looked at his assailant, it was the ogre was back and pissed. He must be a member of some gang, he and the humans had the same tattoos. " You messed with the axe gang. So lets see who is laughing when I tear out you're throat in an actual fight," The ogre spat out bitterly staring at roncho with malice. Roncho just smiled, "HAHA you think you're a tough gang, I think you need more men, then this will be fair." He flexed his fists, he could feel the weight of his brass knuckles. One of the humans dared to charge Roncho while the others concentrated on wrecking the bar. As he charged he brought the huge axe to bear, swinging it over his head, Roncho flipped the table up into the axe blade to take the force out of his swing, and to his amusement, get the axe head stuck in the table. He let go and tried turned to flee but Roncho was upon him like a ton on bricks. Throwing a powerful punch into his jaw, a sick crack souded out and teeth flew as his jaw broke. He was dazed by the thunderous punch, Roncho grabbed him, picking him up and flinging him through the window out into the cold.

"Who is next, or are the big scary bandits scared to face someone that can put up a fight." He looked over to the bar in time to see another one of the miscreants throwing a hatchet aimed at the teifling's head. Roncho reached out and tried to catch it but the blade went right into the palm of his massive hand. Pain flared in his hand but Roncho ignored the pain and pulled out the blade that was like silverware to him, the would regenerated with frightening speed. Roncho actually started to laugh" AHAHA look at you're little baby weapons, you come here because of me and you don't even fight?" Roncho picked up a chair and before the Axe gang member could see what the massive troll was about to do he threw the chair like a giant javelin and it smashed into the human, he was unconscious before he hit the floor. He could see that his action were having a visible effect on the gang, they were fighting more defensively, making sure that the same fate that befell the others did not occur to them. Many of them ran upstairs to loot the rooms. But the ogre was terrorizing more of the patrons. More specifically he was heading for the teifling...

Before Gil-Estel could do so much as even open his mouth, a large gang of axe wielding men led by what seemed to be an enraged ogre, had entered the bar and begun terrorisinvg the patrons. One of the men, a particularly large example seemed to be running in his direction. Gil-Estel pulled out his bow and shot the man through the head. He swung around to see how the Tiefling was faring but was immediately knocked off his feet by the large ogre accompanying the men. It seemed that it was the ogres task to deal with the Tiefling, Gil-Estel got to his feet, only to find that he was surrounded by a large ring of men, each with an axe crueller and more dangerous looking than the last.

One man advanced on him, swinging his axe around his head like a child would swing a toy. Gil-Estel unsheathed his knives and assumed a defensive position. The man brought his axe down towards Gil-Estel's head. Ducking to the left, Gil-Estel managed to dodge the axe's evil blade and sing his right hand around so that the blade slit the Man's throat. Needless to say, the man immediately dropped to the floor. "Bertho" (Dare it) he said to the Men, slipping into his mother tongue.

Suddenly, from behind, a large Man managed to tackle Gil-Estels lithe form to the ground. Gil-Estel saw his knives go flying off to the side as the man held him down. "Now little elf," the Man snarled, "I'm going to make you suffer" He put a particular emphasis on the last word, clearly relishing the thought of inflicting pain on another being.

"Nai Valaraukar tye-mátar!" (May Balrogs eat you!) spat Gil-Estel. The man, clearly displeased by the Gil-Estel's defiance took out his dagger and placed it on the nape of the elf's neck. "Say your prayers!" he said as he prepared to push the dagger home...

Roncho watched as the elf was held down by several gang members. The elf was a skilled fighter but in a contest of strength he didn't fare to well. He struggled against the members grip as he bragged to the elf about how he was going to die. Roncho saw his next opponent and bull rushed him while giving yelling at the top of his lungs "I would think that members of a nasty gang would at least want a somewhat fair fight. But this is just pathetic." Roncho slammed into one of the bandits. He flew into a table smashing it to splinters, before the man with the knife could react Roncho's massive fist closed around his head "You're fight is with me, leave it at that." In a massive show of force he held him over his head, the man was spitting curses and other foul language as he was thrown out through the door... literally.

"Bring it on already." They paused for a moment, seeing what happened to the others that tested his strength, and blood coated his knuckles where from where he demolished the first to challenge him, Roncho could hear the toothless man moaning on the ground trying to speak despite his broken jaw. Fear could be seen in their eyes. In a single moment the stillness was broken and they charged as Roncho let out a fearsome warcry, flipping a table to barge into one man while shoulder bashing another. An axe blade cleaved into his shoulder drawling blood, But this glancing hit was met with a thunderous punch to his assailant. A hatchet smashed into his back but Roncho took out his anger on another of his enemie's face. The fighting met another pause as the bandits retreated temporarily, Roncho taking his wounds into account, the gang members contemplating of they want to face the troll's wrath. Out of the corner of his eye Roncho saw the elf finally getting up, Roncho lent out a hand and the elf took it and was heaved up. "You don't have to thank me, you can do that by helping me finish the rest of these cretin, my the way my names Roncho, and I'm the worst thing that will ever happen to this miserable gang."

"You have my thanks nevertheless." said Gil-Estel. Once again he assumed a defensive position, his knives held out in front of his face. "Let us hope that this won't take too long!" As the first man ran towards Gil-Estel, he jumped, cat like onto the nearest table, from there he lashed out with his left knife, slitting the man's throat. He leapt forwards towards the group of Men, stabbing one in the chest and another in the stomach. Suddenly he remembered the Tiefling... and the ogre!!!

Before the elf could speak, a hatchet was thrown at her. She heard it going through the air, therefore knew to dodge, but she really just slipped out of the chair and unto the floor, as the hatchet flew by, just barely missing her head. She then stood, when she thought it a bit safer, though, it wasn't. The whole inn was in a havoc. She got a dark look across her face. This was not going to help with her mood, and really didn't when she saw the ogre coming towards her.

She spun on her heels to face him, drawing her scimitar. She wished she had two, but she had yet to buy another. As the ogre came on, he trampled over some poor fellow, and threw others aside. Disgusting, she thought, grimacing in disgust. She twirled her weapon in her hand, then, when the ogre was near, it reached out to grab her, but she jumped to the side, then back, out of reach, but as the ogre came at her again, she jumped forward, bringing her scimitar up, and slicing his arm. He roared in pain and anger, and his other arm flailed out at her, that held a large, sharp battleaxe.

Once again she jumped back. Now, Zémire was not a warrior, she was a bard, and when she did fight, she relayed on her speed to dodge, and attack. Her attacks never had much force in them, but it always worked with speed. And when she fought, she normally did it in a way of dancing, if some watched her, they would notice a pattern, but it was barely noticeable.

Every time he attacked her, or tried to grab her, she would dodge away, where he least expected her to, then attack. Normally slicing at him. He attacked with his axe again, now getting terribly annoyed with her, and his blow was a bit faster, and with a stronger force. She was close, and wouldn't be able to block with her sword, unless she wanted her sword to snap, and it would most likely injure her arm. She decided quickly to drop to the floor again, which was safest. The axe swung right above her head, she felt a rush of air above her also.

Not hesitanting, she swung her sword about, and this time sliced the ogres leg. He stumbled, and she rolled out of the way, not wanting to be crushed.

As the ogre fell to one knee, she jumped to her feet. Zémire didn't notice one of the "Axe Gang" members running up at her from behind, an axe raised...

Fighting his way through the crowds of brawling axe gang members and pub patrons, Gil-Estel managed to make his way to where the Tiefling seemed to be duelling with the ogre. Suddenly, out of nowhere, an axe gang member ran towards her back swinging his axe. At the last moment Gil-Estel stepped lightly into his path and stabbed him with one of his knives. The man keeled forwards his axe barely missing Gil-Estel's chest. As Gil-Estel turned to assist the Tiefling with the ogre, the man on the floor used his last strength to swing his axe at Gil-Estel's leg. The blow didn't have enough force behind it to do any serious damage, but the pain from the wound was enough to bring Gil-Estel to his knees. He turned only to see another axe gang member bringing the handle of an axe towards his face. The handle made conact, there was a nasty crunching noise, a lot of pain and all went dark. Gil-Estel was out cold.

The axe gang member braced for a executor's blow upon the elve's head, the axe fell hitting him in the neck, but not the blade. Instead it was the haft of the axe, falling as it's user stumbling back, covered in shattered glass and booze. "Oi, lay off the elf..." Roncho yelled as he threw another bottle of whiskey. The missile landed onto his head and another axe gang member fell to the ground. Roncho turned to see his the one that he wanted to fight all along... the ogre. He was currently dueling the teifling woman, the was fast, really fast. Dodging all the ogres blows but of one of them landed, the woman would be done for. "It would be a good time to run coward..." Roncho bellowed in a challenge. The ogre turned to him, dropping his axe, ignoring the teifling for the one in which he came here all along. giving a wicked snarl. "I thought my men could handle you, guess not, oh well I can always hire more." He started to charge despite his leg openly bleeding. In a guttural roar Roncho charged as well. Everyone stopped for a moment to watch as these two juggernauts were about to impact.

Roncho grimaced in pain as he hit the ogre, he could smell the beasts foul breath, see his yellow teeth, see the anger and hate in his eyes. They pushed against each other, trying to get one another off balance. "You are so small... its funny to me." Roncho said as he suddenly shifted his weight and bringing the ogre's ugly head close to his. A loud crack rang out as Roncho head butted the orge square in the skull. The Ogre stumbled back, blood flowing from his skull, he wiped the blood from his eyes, "I'm through with this kidding around." and from the sheath on his back took out the biggest, most wicked looking axe Roncho had ever seen.

Like an angry rhino the ogre charged into Roncho. The axe flying in a wide arc, Roncho jumped back barely clipped Roncho's shirt where his midriff would have been . The axe was large even for the ogre's strength, and in the time it took for his to finish his wide arc Roncho took the opportunity. He swung with a right hook, his fist connecting with the ogre's brow. But in retaliation the ogre elbowed Roncho in his bucket jaw, Roncho saw stars flying and was sure that he was now bleeding from his gums. Roncho saw the axe flying again and pulled up a nearby table to use as a makeshift wooden shield, it took for force from the blow but it shattered into splinters, making it useless. Roncho smacked the ogre in his face yet again with what was left of the table and followed up with a left hook to his stomach. The ogre dropped his axe and bent double, his face twisted in a expression of fear, and anger because he knew what was coming next. Roncho, with the rest of his strength delivered an almighty uppercut to his jaw, a deafening crack rang out as his jaw broke. The ogre stood up, blood flowing from where his teeth cracked. He had a blank look on his face. With a loud boom, the ogre fell. Unconscious before he even hit the wooden floor of the tavern.

Zémire dodged one last blow from the ogre, but then it turned its attention to the troll. Grimacing in disgust again, she took several steps back from the two large folk, but then her heel hit someone, she turned to look and saw the elf. She had been completely oblivious of the man who had tried to attack her, but when she glanced at the one of members, she pieced it out together, and that the elf had helped her. She glanced back at the troll and ogre, and wondered if the troll could defeat the other. Shaking her head slightly, she crouched down to her knees, and looked to where the axe hilt had hit him. She supposed it could be worse, but she was not a expert in healing ways. She could try using Dark Regeneration on him, but she had a small doubt that he was even evil, and the spell doesn't work on those who were good.

She cursed herself for not learning any other healing spells. She considered trying her spell on him, but then told herself no. She wanted to help him, but couldn't.

Before she could think any further in how to help, one of axe members came running towards her, a simple axe raised. He was close, and swung the blade aiming for her neck. She bent over, then in a swifting motion, brought her scimitar, and the sharp blade sliced the mans legs. He cried out in pain, and fell down, moaning in pain.

The dark bard stood and walked over to the man, and then, in another movement, sliced his throat open. He was then, dead in a instant. And then, right after, there was a loud thud! of the ogre falling. She flinced, then turned on her heels to look at the ogre. She then looked at the troll, not knowing what to do really. Since the ogre was down, who seemed to be the leader, all the others would most likely run... if they were smart.

Roncho let out a hearty laugh as he walked towards the woman finishing off the last of the axe gang members "Now that was a good fight!" Roncho inspected the unconscious elf, " he will be fine, just took a beating, nothing broken" He saw the bruise on his jaw "AHAHAHA, he's going to feeling that tomorrow." As Roncho came closer he saw the human with his throat slit, his clothes stained crimson, a small pool forming near his neck. Roncho looked at the woman, she had no guilt in her eyes, no sadness, no contempt. She had the same expression as royalty would have in a poorhouse.

Roncho was a brute, he could have killed them with a single punch but even these bandits did not deserve that. This was a bar fight, Roncho had been in dozens of them yet he still did not go crushing people to death. He would give them a good beating, one that they would be feeling but they would recover. Roncho finally spoke out to the woman, "Ok why in the nine hells did you kill then, I could have crushed their skulls but they did not deserve death..." Roncho stared at the corpse then looked around at the bodies, about 3-5 people were dead, and surely the town guard would be coming soon and they would blame the troll... they always blamed the troll.