It was in a pub, once again, that Triella was stuck waiting at. Lured out by promises of gold and special shiny objects, she'd come to the waiting spot where others were supposed to show up and hunt down some beast or other that'd been terrorizing some village or something. to be honest she ignored the details and only looked at the reward.

Oops.

She was Robynless, unless the child was hiding in the crowd somewhere, and the separation was a little disheartening. It was good to be on her own though once in awhile, but she still worried if the girl was all right by herself...or at least not playing tag with a dozen zombie hunters.

The others here were the gang of generic ruffians, she stood out a little bit, but there was a few really crazy looking ones that out did her...

Like Vex. Vex was in a foul mood. Just the day before she had been in a bar fight, a truly epic bar fight, the kind of brawl that only came about once a season. The sort that leaves scars that grandchildren beg to see if only so they can go ‘oooooooo’ and ‘ahhhhh’. However, not being a grandparent or someone who was planning to live to any ripe old age (Vex wasn’t sure if rauko had old ages anyway) Vex was feeling very much like all the other patrons who had taken part in the alcohol-laced festival of fists, feet, broken bones, shattered limbs and terrorized neighbors.

Oh, and one very scared, very odd little drunk. And a drow. And a half-dragon. And a bunch of humans and half-orcs and no doubt some other weird hybrid race but what really mattered (not that those details didn’t matter) was that Vex was having the hangover to end all hangovers. Every noise killed her ears- every movement was a pain and a half. Every breath was agony.

And here she was, back at the bar. Vex wondered blithely, after accepting just a bit (not too much, a glass or five of alcohol couldn’t kill her after all) if she actually had a death wish after all. She had made glorious speeches and whatnot back in Hel about overthrowing Raku and when they accused and ridiculed and beat her (did any of that really happen?) Vex had charmingly told them all to do something to themselves and was of the firm belief she was –not- suicidal just… her eyes burned. Just vengeful. And hateful. And petty.

But even if pettiness was what sustained her she had to keep up with it. If not she’d… but nevermind. She was here for a job. Scanning the room she noted an axe-wielding warrior- a female too, that was rather rare- and motioned for her to come sit. Her curiosity was piqued and unless she quite guessed wrong the mercenary/fighter/something was wearing that yellow bandana on her wrist that identified her as one of the hired help.

There was a scraggly red-head waving her over from a table. Triella didn't recognize, but she didn't recognize anyone else here either. The woman had pointy ears, and despite appearing to be a wreck, an oddly alluring presence. Judging from the slightly frazzled look and nearly closed and bloodshot eyes, she was hungover. Quite heavily.

Picking up the chair, she set it down softly, not wishing to cause the "friendly" face more irritation. Fumbling with her belt she produced a small gourd of water and held it out to Vex.

"You should drink this, just water, but it'll help the headache." Her voice was a low tone, but she had leaned in so they'd be heard over the ruckus of the other patrons. and up close she smelled...odd. In a familiar fashion, but not quite identifiable.

Robyn-rin looked around, trying to find the whereabouts of Alice-Mommy. Where could she be? How could Robyn-rin have lost Alice-Mommy? This situation was simply inconceivable! How dare Alice-Mommy lose Robyn-rin? How dare Robyn-rin lose Alice-Mommy! A small growl escaped her throat and each stride that Robyn took as she walked through the streets of Lómëdor seemed to ring with that special something that meant that magick was about. Almost without realizing it, Robyn-rin's fists turned into nothing more than stone. Nothing more, perhaps, but still nothing less.

She realized it when, in a gesture of futility and frustration, Robyn punched a wall. The wall left a hole in her hand- but by the same token, the hand left a hole in the wall. Robyn blinked. Mweh? This was interesting... she slowly flexed her now interesting looking appendages. When had she taken the hands of a stony friend-friend? She tried to recall but hit a blank after the point-ear. Nuh, Robyn-rin did NOT recall taking handy-hands from a stony friend-friend. And Robyn-rin couldn't remember cutting stone either. Could it be done? Robyn-rin wasn't sure...

Then she caught a familiar scent! Alice-Mommy! So Alice-Mommy hadn't abandoned her! Excellentious! Excellentiousmous!

She burst into the bar excitedly. "Alice-Mommy!" She shouted. The rest of the bar suddenly swung around, the collective gaze encompassing the rather emaciated figure of a less than legal age drinker corpse. Luckily the majority just assumed she was having a rather bad day. The pitiful paladin that was here (who da heck thought of a paladin that liked bar-hopping?) didn't detect any evil even if it detected undead nature and promptly ignored it.

"Alice-Mommy! Alice-Mommy!"

"...huh?" Was all Triella managed to utter when Robyn burst into the bar. Quite a surprise, not hated, but not wonderful. More surprising than anything, but still a little comforting. Nobody let up shouting "Abomination!" or "Monster!", which was really good. Standing up she waved Robyn to where she was seated before clearing her lap, figuring Robyn wouldn't want to sit in a seat.

"What are you doing here? where did you go earlier?"

Her tone wasn't mad, just a little serious inquiry. If she had been over here, who knew where else the undead child might have wandered off to if left unattended. A discussion about traveling safety seemed to be of an important issue to touch upon soon, but most definitely not right now.

Vex's eyebrow twitched. A child? An undead child, perhaps but... it was still a child. What the heck was it doing in a place like this? But thinking was difficult. Terribly difficult. Terribly, horribly difficult. And she didn't want to indulge in thinking. Thinking was a luxury for people who weren't drinking water offered to them by a stranger and assuming that it was actually water just because paranoia was too much effort. Yes sirree, this was not a day for paranoia and hopefulness. This was a day for random mayhem and violence. And perhaps more alcohol. Anything that consumed the least amount of effort and calories.

"Ye've got... the oddest pets," Vex croaked. Whether she was speaking the floor, the wall, the child or to her new companion it was difficult to say. Not impossible, but still rather difficult. She was looking at the ceiling after all. Apparently her new aquaintance wasn't paying attention to her because the moment that the child started screaming a name (apparently Alice-Mommy was her name... an odd name for certain. Humans were getting odder and odder as time went along) this 'Alice-Mommy' started to speak as well.

"What are you doing here? where did you go earlier?"

Interrogative clusters. Vex didn't know why she remembered that particular word, rhetorical device, whatever- but it popped into her brain and apparently the effort was painful for Vex suddenly discovered a new craving for alcohol. LOTS of alcohol. Enough alcohol to drown away her sorrows and pains of newfound knowledge.

"Bartender!" She called out. She probably meant some other grunt employee. She was at a table after all. "Getme something! Something strong."

"Hey!" Triella sort of snapped at Vex. Not loudly, but enough to make herself heard before she waved off the waiter, who was a bit intimidated by the assorted crowd. She spoke again and it was a firm voice that generally Mommy's developed to tell children to go to bed at eight o' clock.

"Robyn is not a pet, and you aren't getting drunk. You are going to get yourself washed up and ready to go." She paused, thinking this might not be the best thing to say, so she tried compromising, "And think about it this way, if you're drunk you won't be as good as others and they'll get the reward. If you don't get the reward, you won't be able to buy alcohol. so deny yourself a little now to gain a lot later. Okay?"

Robyn blinked at the funny looking point-ear. Was she a friend-friend? A friend-friend of Alice-Mommy? She stared and peered and frowned at how Alice-Mommy was talking to this new... acquaintance. Yes, acquaintance was the proper word. Alice-Mommy had taught it to Robyn-rin while Robyn-rin was needing those 'dancing' lessons and lessons in 'social etiquette.' Not that they saw much use after the Andrea Affair but it was things like that which could not be avoided.

But back to the acquaintance. Was she a friend-friend? Alice-Mommy, after Robyn-rin had wandered off with a funny looking man who was offering treatsies (and subsequently became a treatsy) had tried to instruct Robyn-rin on the shades of grey between 'friend-friend' and 'meanie-pooh.' And also tried to get Robyn-rin to use words not directly related to family in relating to anyone bigger than a triple F friend. It probably had been one of the most difficult tasks in anyone's life but Robyn-rin, out of some process like osmosis or something else entirely- had managed to absorb some of the lesson.

Some of it. She still saw it as a sort of criteria in determining that which was a friend-friend and meanie-pooh beyond 'if it hurts, it's a meanie-pooh' and promptly discovered that it seemed like an accurate predictor of that which would hurt in the future and that which would not.

But it was the obvious questions that won the day, most of the time.

"Are you a meanie-pooh?" She asked the creature.

"No she's not Robyn. At the moment everyone here is a friend-friend to try and get some money! But keep your voice a little quiet and avoid other loud noises, our friend-friend's head hurts a lot, but you can't operate on it. Okay?"

Vex seemed to be amused by the ceiling, which was a bit troubling. Was the pointy-eared woman still drunk? Or just crazy? Either way they hadn't gotten her name yet...

"I'm called Alice by the way, what do you go by?"

Depending on the name, and if she was being honest unlike Triella, she might hint at what she was. Or the woman might be yet another half-breed. Those things seemed more common than pure breeds these days...

Are you a meanie-pooh?

The question woke Vex up a bit. Enough so that when her brain re-winded and repeated the little shpiel about alcohol and not needing and needing to save up for it she almost understood it and was tempted to laugh in her companion's face. That was, if it didn't hurt to laugh. Which it did. So she didn't. No need to waste energy on pointless things like laughing at people who didn't know the curative properties of alcohol. Of all the cures, alcohol for hangovers seemed the most obvious and the most logical.

Or at least it did, two hours before noon with massive bruises, muscle cramps and a hangover. It better- Vex wasn't planning on using her money to buy 'useful' trinkets. She had had enough of 'useful' things in her mortal existence- she'd enjoy a bit of decadence here while she was damned but on the mortal plane. It was her right after all.

Sorta. Where was da beer?

"I'm called Alice by the way, what do you go by?"

Vex tried to focus on the female companion. "I go by..." she thought of her pseudonyms. The Scarlet Assassin, the something-or-another Harlot (did she even call herself that anymore), the Death-toked Nutcase... no wait, that wasn't right. And besides, it was a good name- or at least a good title, the one that she had received in Hel. Might as well start using it so people recognized her.

"Vex."

Vex...

Like a curse, a hex, only in the sense of a verb. An odd name, but granted she wasn't human, at least not entirely. The woman seemed a little slow, probably just another side effect of being hungover. Guessing from her forcefulness into working, she probably did this quite regularly, who most like tried curing it with a temporary solution, alcohol.

There was a slight ripple in the crowd. If one overheard the talking without it being drowned out by other voices and nosies, they would hear a rumor that their employer or a representative of them would be here shortly to kick off this escapade.

Robyn-rin was about to comment on the funny name-name when the door blew open. Literally. One moment it was there and the next moment it had gone sailing through the rough-and-tumble crowd to land ominously at the counter of the bar. The bartender looked faintly bemused. He seemed used to it. The man who had been sitting right next to the stool there did not. In fact, the faint smell of piss and the rather terrified look in his eye seemed to demonstrate that this, in fact, was the single most terrifying day of his life.

At the door was a dwarf. His golden armor was pitted and smoking and stylized with numerous carvings of snakes. He held a pipe in one hand and a ball of fire in the other. Snapping his fingers, the fire winked out. He took a long draw from his pipe, sighed in contentment and strode into the bar, his plated boots hitting the ground like thunder in the silent bar.

Then someone laughed, the tension broke and everyone got back to what they were doing- a watchful eye minding the dwarf and a different watchful eye minding their drink or their cards. Some regulars were apparently well-versed in such an appearance and someone actually went 'Duuuuuuu it!' when the dwarf grabbed a hefty sack of gold from his thick and well-padded belt and lobbed it at the bartender who, wincing, caught it. And was promptly knocked down by the force of the throw.

He wasn't wearing a yellow bandana... instead, as he raised his arm into the air to lob it (even if it was only extending a few scant inches above any human's table) his armguard fell a bit, revealing a wrist that had been horribly burned and apparently dyed yellow.

He guffawed as the bartender hit the ground and then roared:

“I am Dwom. Dwom the Destroyer. Who here is up for a little hunt? Eh?”

Triella's hand flew to her axe handle when the door flew off. She'd actually stood up and the chair clattered, unheard due to the bang, to the floor. They eased their stance when they seen a dwarf who wasn't slinging magic doom at them, but decided to walk in after making a suitably explosive entrance.

Turns out this was the guy they were waiting for, or at least sent by the guy. Or a crazy nut job. Each possibility seemed likely, especially in a place like this. Granted it might be a combination of them, but who truly knew. Joining in the others cheering, Triella was ready to go.

Vex's eyebrow twitched. Dwom? Dwom the Destroyer? Here? But why-

She went back to that fertile recollection she had of the assassin guild that she had contacted (or rather they had contacted her) not so long ago. It wasn't so much out of her instinctive mind habits but rather that which made her both a menace and a desperate nutcase herself: alcohol. Alcohol could soothe even the pathways to the brain and it was through the brain that Vex recalled a certain situation-

“We hunt sometimes, too.” The dwarf had been eating his meat and apple pie. He had seemed particularly careful about the apple pie. Claimed that he had had to once pulverize both stone and strange exotic animals in order to get the least of things to eat. Probably hippos, or whales, or elephants or something. He never made himself clear on that point. Vex politely was quite disbelieving.

“Hunt?” She had asked him.

“Well sure, y'know, big animals.” Vex had nodded, guardedly. There was a big difference between 'animals' and-

“Like dragons.” He had smiled. And dug into his meat, every fourth bite taking in bits of apple pie. It always amazed Vex how he could mix in sweets with meat and seem to never gain anything but pure muscle. She had once, out of respect and a certain amount of curiosity, hired a fledgling assassin from the who-knows-where to go and try to gut Dwom. It was through a bunch of shady contacts but the end result was simple: the stupid elf had died before even landing a single blow. Vex had been pretty impressed.

But now Vex groaned at the memory. Her head pounded. She was drunk. And here she was at the bar, in the presence of a crazy lady who thought alcohol couldn't cure the world's ills and an undead child thing that was busy trying to pretend she was grown up. Was she trying to drink the-

But no, more sound, more noise. Dwom was roaring.

“TODAY WE HUNT A DRAGON!!”

A dragon? Interesting. The last time we fought one was a White dragon...took a brigade of ballistes to bring that ancient beast down...

She fondly remembered the memory that never happened, or had but to something else. When, and if, they went home, they'd be half expecting a giant dragon head mounted on the wall. They'd sadly be disappointed.

Someone in the crowd, a pale and weasly looking elf, piped up, "Where? And what kind?" Most of the other patrons didn't like him, he was predicted to die within the opening day of the hunt. Most likely from someone knifing him and taking his armor.

If only they knew what strength boiled beneath the sickly skin.

Dragon?

Robyn-rin sighed and stewed. The stars had promised her a dragon, once. For some reason the stars seemed dead these days. Like as if an era had passed and they would never quite return to their former glory- not if a thousand eons passed again. It was a wound that might never heal, a scar on the landscape of the night sky- present every time she looked and she looked often enough, these days. Misfortune seemed to cackle in glee every time she bothered to keep an ear out for him but in the last few days she hadn't. There didn't seem to be a point in listening to Misfortune anymore. He was a meanie-pooh.

Poor Ursy-Wursy, having to live with Misfortune every day... but then again, that -was- life. Life-life-life. Life. Yar, life. Life was what it was called and now there was something new to do. A different dragon. Was this the recollection of a promise? The mere shadow of an event that might have shaken the heavens? Perhaps. Then again, perhaps not. There were many intricacies here that were beyond Robyn-rin's simple understanding.

Like why the people here were dancing. And cheering. And doing jigs. And asking the bartender for enough beer to last them a century. Yes, it was all very... curious. Very curious indeed. It wasn't quite the atmosphere of a game and yet by the same token it wasn't quite the atmosphere of a not-game game. A celebration, yes that was the word for it. They were celebrating. Celebrating something important to them, no doubt. Was it the dwarfy-dwarf? Did that smelly, loud-mouthed dwarfy-dwarf make them do all this? Was he a friend-friend to everyone?

But then Robyn shrugged. Mweh. The stars were dying... and new stars would come... maybe. For now, they were here to see the dragon!

They doubted their current capabilities for dragon-hunting. She had no war machines, little magic, no soldiers under her command beyond a little undead child. What were they to do with a mob of rowdy scumbags? And what about the dwarf, hideously burnt all over by dragons most likely. Her faith in his capabilities were plummeting as she thought about them.

Maybe her axe could hew through dragon hide, but getting that close and killing a dragon with chops seemed...unlikely and deadly. Perhaps the money wasn't worth it this time. Certainly not worth risking Robyn over...but maybe there was loot to be had...easier to acquire, less dangerous, no dragons either! Perfect scenario compared to dragon roasting.

He got them to quiet down. He was good at that, Vex noted. Soon the carousing and partying stopped. Somehow, it didn't make sense- all he had done was stay quiet and yet the floor had slowly gone silent. He wasn't even clearly asking for silence- just smoking his pipe and looking grandfatherly as he scanned the crowd. It was interesting to note his following here in these seedier parts- was he known for his assassin work or his being the proxy-by-default of several major kingdoms? In any case he was getting so much offers for alcohol that even Vex was getting jealous.

Nah, Vex admitted to herself, she would have gotten jealous if he had been offered one pint- let alone the fifty-odd offers or favors he seemed to have in his possession. He was a damn lucky dude. Oh well.

Once the bar had quieted down sufficiently the dwarf took out his familiar smile. Vex groaned. This spelled trouble. He was a cocky little tyke, but the strongest and smartest one too. And he had no morals- all this meant that whatever he was planning, there was a lot of death and destruction in the future.

"So!" He announced. "You're all probably wondering what exactly we're going to do- what kind of dragon we're going to catch and skin and so forth."

There were murmurs (polite and ever-so reticently polite murmurs) of assent.

"It's simple. There's a dragon feud brewing up in the Northern wastes- two of the oldest, meanest, toughest vixens you'll ever meet or see or lay eyes on. Normally we wouldn't be going off there- or we would, but we'd die."

"So we're going to wait for them to slug it out and then..."

Vex groaned and put her head between her hands again. Darnitall but this sounded like a really, bad idea...

He had a charismatic effect. A presence that demanded respect through just standing still and waiting. Odd, but in a way fascinating. The way he commanded the room's attention despite being a bit insane made Triella jealous, like Vex but for different reasons. Now she wanted to kill him and stuff him, take his strength into her own.

How to do this was difficult, perhaps murder him on the expedition, or catch him while he's asleep or wounded? Best bet would be on the hunt, when they encountered the dragons.

"We move in and take advantage of the depleted strength of the sole survivor to finish it off and claim both kills?"