Harvest of Fun and Folly

[Airo Maldorn]

Trandatum
20 of Iliast to 5 Ustramlin AoS 4010

[/center][/color]


Trandantum was abuzz with laughter and merry making. The first of three harvests of late summer grain was in, the casks of last years wine had reached perfection and spring' mead was ready as the tents began to pop up along the river's front. The fall of Yesrin, the great Treaty of Arsuran and the exodus of all magic users to Imperia was something to celebrate. Though over the centuries Imperia has become a class divided nation, the celebrations of the end of the Wizard Warshas become a time in which rank, title, or social station is set aside for fifteen glorious days of merry making. All are equal, all are welcome.

********

Summer's loving warmth was slowly slipping away as winter grip began to tighten against the land. The scents of mulled wine and freshly baked breads, tarts, candied apples and heavily spice meat pies filled the air. A soft breeze brought a brisk chill through the long rows of tents and stalls, whipping up cloth tents, awnings and the occasional skirt and robe above what was comfortable for the owner. Boisterous songs of drinking and whoring poured forth from one of the many ale tents as Airo lifted her skirts just enough to avoid a forming puddle of ale that flowed unhindered from an untended cask. This was one of the few times of year in which she did not mind coming home. Mother was always busy with some event or another, Marcon and Kam and Uthan were all competing this year in the tournament since they all had a taste for jousting and the swordsman's circle and father was overseeing the Mastar Arcani (magic mastery). Airo did not care for the big events that dotted the festival's calendar. For her it was a time to mingle with her fellow Imperians and the guests of the land.

Dressed comfortably in a light green and pale yellow gown of silk and lace that hugged her figure in a most flattering way with a matching short cloak draped over her arms as she let the Twin suns blaze what was left of the summer's warmth upon her shoulders. Her raven locks hung with a gentle wave down to the small of her back with small plaits though out hanging with small pink and purplish blue blossoms woven throughout. Airo paused for a brief moment at a stall that sold trinkets made by Soolari craftsmen only to be forced away by a stampede of laughing, eager children moving like a hoard of miniature gorklins, wrapped up tightly in illusion magic as a means to make trouble as they ran in and out of the crowd. Shouts of astonishments and irritated barks of chastisement followed them as they made their way through the crowds of mages and visitors. Shaking her head, she stepped back towards the merchant's stall and handed him a small dracon silver piece for a pair of earrings. The merchant accepted the coin with an eager nod and a small thanks for stopping at his stall. Airo returned his thanks with a smile as she turns slowly, her head tilted as she placed the thin gold hook through the hole in her lower earlobe then repeated the exercise on the other side before moving on.

"Lady Maldorn," a mature, male voice approached from behind. "I was wondering if you would do me the honor of being my date to the celebration ball tonight." Arching a brow at the proposition, Airo turned slowly to face a man nearly twice her age. His thick hair and beard were a startling shade of white grey as a pair of deep forest green eyes, tempered by decades of living looked down upon her from nearly a half foot above her.

"Your Grace," Airo swept into a deep curtsy befitting the Archduke of Abrevol's station. His wife seeking behavior had finally fallen on her, she surmised as he took her hand assisting her to her feet. Though they were distant cousins by four degrees, the prospect of marrying an older man or his effeminate son was unappealing to say the least. Fight the urge to wrinkle her nose against the stench of unwashed body heavily perfumed with a sickeningly sweet incense found in the temple of Ishana, Airo forced a smile and greeting the archduke with a kiss on each cheek. "I heard you were not well, have the priestly healers given you leave to attend such a gala?" Airo took the elderly man's arm as he began to lead her down the thoroughfare, his stench caused her eyes to water slightly, but she did not let it openly affect her as she waited for him to speak. She could feel the bones in his arms through the thick sleeves of his tunic and new whatever he was to say would be false.

"Aye my lady, they have. They tell me I shall recover fully within the week." His grace responded with a semi-toothless grin. Airo returned the grin while inside she cringed in both disgust and disbelief. His frail and sickly nature has been a very hot topic of courtly rumor and discussion due to the fact his only son would rise to his father's position on the council that answered to the Dragon High Commander and the other principle areas of Imperians security, knowing full well he had never held a sword in his life and as the stories would have it, he preferred his bedmates to be less than human and preferably with more fur than hair. "Please, will you give me the honor to introduce you to my son, Zelif. I am sure you both will get along swimmingly."

Not on your life old man. I would rather sit a month in the Shiver Spire's cellar listening to the Mare eat the sanity from the minds of the damned than meet a man I would more likely have cause to laugh at in order to avoid being being a laughing stock. Airo thought bitterly knowing it was her mother who had put the blasted idea into the poor man's head. After walking a few paces more, she slid her arm from the archduke's and turned to face him. With her eyes down cast she began to give her excuses pushing a stray strand of hair from her eye. "You are too gracious to even think of me in such a way. Alas, I have promised my father I would be his guest." This was not a total lie, her nephew was making his coming to court debut and her mother had made it quite clear that she would be attending the Founding Gala with family and there was no reason under the Gods that she could, would, or should make to get out of it. "Perhaps we shall meet there?"

Archduke Abrevol nodded in silent agreement as Airo sunk into a deep curtsy once again before turning on her heel before making her departure before the old man could protest. Slipping into the crowd she melted in with a large contingent of Winterborn warriors come to match steel in the tournament. As she past through their ranks she found their sing-song language in approval of what they saw. Paying them no mind she slipped into one of the mead tents to grab a bite to eat and enjoy a rowdy group of young Dragon guard trying desperately to drink one another under the table. Many on lookers gave them a wide birth as whores and pickpockets slipped in and out of the gathering cheering crowd. Airo found a quiet enough place at the far corner of the tent to sit as a serving wench arrived to place a flagon of mead before her and take her order to the cook.

((OOC: Ladies and gents, you may start wherever. Just keep in mind that this event will last as long as it takes to complete. We are only on the first day.))

[Lorryn]

It had been years since she last attended the celebrations, only once since she had last gone by her birth name of Raenn Talier. She had been so incredibly cautious those first few years on her own, living a new life with a new name, she didn’t risk coming back to the city of her birth to enjoy the sights, smells, and sounds of the days long merriment. Even now, older, a bit wiser, and waddling through the crowds along the river bank heavy with her second child, Lorryn remembered running through the tents as a small girl in her good gown, playing with the boys and getting thoroughly disheveled. How simpler those days were. The early night sky was above as a group of small children ran past her with fae fire sparklers in their hands, the cool colorful sparks raining down from the thin metal sticks with a soft crisp sound as one brushed against her gown. Chuckling, she placed a hand on top of her round abdomen as her other hand held onto her skirts to keep the hem from dragging through a trail of spilt mead that ran along the grassy path between tents like a miniature stream. A far cry from the extravagant gowns of her noble family’s station, her gown was still of a very fine sheer handkerchief like linen dyed in shades of a smoky blue that matched her eyes. Blue, the color of House Talier and the radiant sapphire embedded in the golden amulet of her family’s crest tucked between her breasts under the layers of fabric, it’s gold chain clearly visible above the deep neckline, the only thing she had of her mother’s. It was the only jewelry she wore, a decided lack of a wedding band probably raising more than one eyebrow of those who noticed.

A breeze blew and her hair flew back as did the long sleeves and full skirt of the overdress. Slit open up to the elbows, the dark overdress’s sleeves revealed a paler blue underdress whose sleeves widened into gentle billows until a few inches above the wrist were they were tightly bound down to her wrists, the ends of the short laces dangling playfully along the side of her hands. The neckline scooped down to just above her cleavage, the bit of boning she could wear reigning her bosom in under the gown as both layers came together just under her breasts, the front pleated underdress allowing it to gracefully lay over her swollen figure while the darker outer layer spread to hug either side of her belly, displaying it all the more as it pleated in the back to form a slight train. Not the gown of an Earl’s daughter, but easily that of a knight, it’s only true adornment being the embroidery of intricate knotwork with touches of gold thread done on the short bodice and the hemming of her sleeves. Her hair was left loose for the most part, the sides being twisted back away from her face into a figure eight like knot, each secured with a small gold pin, the tip of which occasionally caught in the lights of the various hanging lanterns and bursts of celebration sparklers.

Six years ago she had been too afraid to be this close to the life she once had, but now she felt more confident, and knew sometimes the best way to go unnoticed was to be amongst the crowd. Besides, she had ‘died’ before her formal presentation at court. Few would recognize Earl Eoin’s daughter now, Lorryn figured.

From her shoulder hung a small matching ladies bag, weighted down by the palm sized books she had purchased that morning so she could revisit spells taught her when she was younger that she had no real desire to master, until recently. Many things she saw in a different light since having Traisa and carrying her next only solidified her resolve, so the fact the tomes carried a heavy price didn’t matter. Passing a peddler’s tent, the proprietor called out to her with a silver rattle in his hand and she stepped over, leaving a moment later with two in her hand, one for each of her little ones, the soft tinkling ring they made having made it hard for her to resist.

The streams of ale, wine, and other drink from the festivities was increasing in number as the night went on and the merriment became more drunken. Soon most of the children would be tucked away in their beds and the more raunchy entertainments would begin, not that some weren’t kicking off already. Passing by a jester up on a platform telling jokes many a noblewoman would turn her nose up at, Lorryn laughed and headed into a large tent, the sign hanging from it being one she knew all too well. The Bawdy Wench tavern always moved its business out to the riverfront for the celebration. Known for their ale, it was the honey mead she had a hankering for, that and some roast boar. If she hadn’t smelled it earlier that day, she’d of ended up in the forests outside the city hunting one down… again.

Inside the tent she found a table alongside a huge old tree just beside the tent, the closest she could get to a wall, an old habit she might never break. There she sat, rather sideways since her belly got in the way, with three empty seats around the rough hewn table before her, slipping the baby rattles into her bag as she waved a tavern wench over, her stomach growling loud enough to cause a man at a table next to hers to glance her way as she thought of the boar over the spit just beyond the tent…

[Deleted]

Occasions and celebrations such as these always drew a crowd. There were those who were well-wishers, the aforementioned celebrants, people who were against celebrations of any kind and those only there for free ale. Camilla was one of the swarm of living beings drawn to Tradantum this day. Outwardly, she was there for the party, sure that plenty of musicians would congregate in a few places for her to trade a tune or two with. To be honest, the woman was there to get stinking drunk and hoped to fall asleep somewhere safe. Returning to this part of Imperia made her skin prick, sweat beginning to bead her brow.

A lot of enemies had been left in her wake as she’d made her first headlong journey from Liosut. Enemies and broken hearts, but mostly enemies. She knew that being seen would always generate mixed emotions. It was possible that a quarter of the humans in the area were children born from men she’d slain. Not that the fact left her feeling any better about what she did in the least. And of course, seeing anything with devilish features put most on edge. So it was that she wore a dark cloak with a blue jeweled clasp in front, the hood down. Her wings and tail were mostly hidden under the material, her wings folded down and as far out of the way as she could make them, though the tips of these wings were visible just under the bottom edge of the cloak.

She was wearing a undecorated sand colored tunic, her legs bare below the hemline save for her customary red and black boots. A lute dangled loosely from her left hand by the neck, the fingers limber and just itching to begin playing. A few children darted past her…or at least she thought they were children by the sounds of high pitched giggling. A few of the people there must have had some serious connections. Her dark brows pinched together a bit, watching as one well coifed woman spoke with a man who wore a bit too much powder on his face. What was striking was the appearance of a firelizard on the woman’s shoulder. Biting down a sigh, Camilla looked away. She knew how expensive one of those little things was and they all were bought as eggs from highly specialized breeders. I’d have to sell myself in a brothel along with playing the lute for coin… And even then she knew she would not be able to afford one.

She was a full head, if not more, taller than every person there. There was no way for her to not make some sort of disturbance. As if to echo her thoughts one woman glanced her way, gasped and moved out of the way. Like water they parted then, giving the halfblood more than enough space to walk as was her whim. Scoffing mentally, the fiend walked left instead of right, causing a frantic scramble to move from her way. Glancing up, the woman read a sign with burgeoning delight. The Bawdy Wench it read. It’s like they want me to come over. Grinning a bit too widely, Camilla lengthened her stride and ducked to enter the tent. Even if she did not find herself in bed with a bawdy wench, it would be a lot more entertaining to get drunk than being the source of constant whispers and pointing fingers. Already she had wanted to break more than one person’s hand. Once inside, she took a few moments to look around before her gaze fixated on the backside of one of the tavern wenches.

Able to actually suppress the wolfish grin then, Camilla casually strolled over to the table the wench was heading to, noticing a heavily pregnant woman was the focus of the wench’s attention. Pausing… sighing and sniffing lightly, Cam resumed her stroll. The pregnant woman was of no consequence to her, but the comely tavern wench was. Granted, though the one with child would cause a bit of a challenge just due to proximity, Cam was up to the challenge.

Maybe she would leave the celebration with more than a hangover. An extra swagger and bounce to her step echoed her thoughts.

[Deleted]

The stall owners eye began to twitch. He had come to the capital to sell his spiced wine to as many as possible and make a name for himself, not to have it disappear down the bottomless gullet of an increasingly infuriating dwarf. "Sir, haven't you had enough?" The dwarf looked crestfallen, "No, I haven't even had that much yet boyo." The stallkeep was astonished and then enraged at the ludicrous little troll, but managed to keep his temper in line. "Sir, you've had an entire barrel already, you have to leave now." The dwarf put on an expression of sullen dejection and placed a small bag of coin on the counter and turned to leave. The stall keeper was about to breath alocation sigh of relief when, "How about three or four bottles for the road? " the poor mans temper broke.

Alric ducked between two tents as a bottle of wine flew past his ear and shattered on the nearby ground. He pocketed the three bottles he had managed to catch as he made his escape from the irate shop keeper as he jogged briskly down the alley formed by the tents. After a short while he ducked out into a new street.

He strolled along nonchalantly, absently walking a gold piece over his knuckles. He loved the sights and sounds of festivals, the calls of merchants, the laughter of the children scurrying around like raidats in a pantry, the performers plying their trades at every opportunity, even the sly thieves weaving around the unwary. But there was one thing he loved more than any other, the drunken revelry. The smell of roasted meat and fresh breads drew him into a nearby mead tent. Skirting around a large group of what appeared to be soldiers of some kind drinking themselves sick Alric sat himself in a quiet corner.

[Airo Maldorn]

The food wasn’t that bad. It was better than the Maldorn’s kitchen’s head chef Doria’s. Before Airo stood a trencher of day old bread over flowing with a pork stew with spices and vegetables cut into manageable sizes. The sauce was aromatic and thick. Licking her fingers after the first few bites, she then wiped them on the provided napkin. Her goblet set to the right half filled with mulled wine, warmed to keep the chill away. As she dipped her fingers into the stew, mopping it up with a freshly torn bit of bread, she caught sight of a woman heavy with child move through the tent. Arching a brow at first at the enormous belly, she shrugged it off as she shoveled in another bit of pork stew. As hungry as she was, she didn’t care if people were staring at her lack of ceremony when eating.

“So, when is the babe due?” Airo asked politely across her half empty table to the table where the young woman had placed herself sideways on the long bench. Shoveling more stew and bread into her mouth, she remembered to chew with her mouth closed rather than showing the world the food she was in the process of partially digesting.

A loud crash turned her attention from the heavy child laden woman. Two Dragon Guard watchmen, draped in the cloaks of a royal blue with a silver embroidered dragon’s head in the middle fell over the bench at their table in a full blown brawl. A boy no older than maybe 19 was on top of a grizzly old sergeant, landing punch after punch. Sucking the last of the stew’s thick sauce from her fingers, Airo rose to her feet before using the napkin wiping the rest of the sauce that did not make it into her mouth from her hands. “ENOUGH!” She bellowed as loudly as any of the Knight Commanders she knew.

Frozen in mid-punch the young watchman looked up in her direction before standing ramrod straight as the old sergeant climbed to his feet. “What in the name of the nine hells is the meaning of this?” Recognition of who she was slowly registered on the collected group of Dragon Guard present as they all went into a position of attention.

“Knight Lieutenant Maldorn, we had a disagreement…” The young watchman began to explain. Airo threw her hand up to silence him before he could speak further. Stepping over the bench she maneuvered her way though the startled patrons with a few gestures of apology for disturbing their festivities.

“I do not care what your disagreement was about. That does not mean you start throwing punches.” Airo stood before the two offenders and motioned for the others in their party to sit down and carry on. “You are a disgrace to the uniform and to the Dragon Guard. Return to the barracks. I believe that Knight Commander Osian will have something for the two of you to do. “ Airo smoothed the skirts that fluttered about her legs with her abrupt halt before the two offenders. “Better yet. I believe the patron of this tent will need help with the kitchen duties. Report to him and remember I will be watching. Dismissed.”

Both the sergeant and the watchman placed their fists to their chest bowing to their Knight Lieutenant before making their way to the back of the tent. Shaking her head she turned back to her meal that now had a random fly buzzing around it. Moving back towards her seat she began waving her hand trying to shoo the fly from her food. Stepping back over the bench and sitting down she managed to knock the fly from the air and half way down the table. “Fools.”

[Lorryn]

Some just weren’t raised with manners. It was a fact being at such an event as this reminded you of over and over again. She was glad most men’s eyes fell on the thin framed, barely covered bosomed tavern wenches and not the waddling mother to be, though there had been that one time she’d been groped while clearly expecting just moments before said man fell back on his ass as she had proceeded to kick and snap one leg of his chair out from under him. Being pregnant did not mean one was more liable to slip between the sheets with someone. And here the man at the table to her left would not stop looking over at her. Twice now she had waved in an effort to draw a wench’s attention and instead she was getting it from a man with a look in his eyes that made her feel like the one on the spit. All he needed to do to complete the image was lick his lips. Thoroughly uninterested, she finally glared back at the man, to which he chuckled, turned around and rejoined the conversation at his table.

Grateful he took the hint and would direct his interest elsewhere, Lorryn finally flagged a wench down, the young girl nodding as she dropped off a tray of empty tankards on the bar. Her hands empty she began making her way across the tent to her passing a table of drunken officers on her way, their raised voices drawing her attention for a moment.

“So when is the babe due?”

Glancing to her right she spotted the woman who had addressed her, judging by her gaze so focused on her. Lorryn’s cheeks flushed slightly as it took her perhaps a second longer to reply than it should. After all, she had only an educated guess. Her first pregnancy had been ‘interesting’ enough, this one was proving more so. Things seemed to be moving at a faster pace than should be possible and the only thing she could do was gauge her progress according to how the first went. “In a month’s time,” she replied just moments before a brawl broke out between two of the uniformed men, a third being thrown back into a table in the corner, him landing flat on his back on the table’s surface, his mead splashing about, getting himself and the dwarf seated there wet.

Then the woman who had addressed her bellowed and the men froze, as did Lorryn for a moment. She’d put the pieces together before the woman had even been addressed by her title. While it was doubtful any would associate her with the house she’d been born into, there was something quite unsettling about having spoken with a Dragon Guard, let alone one of rank. It made her uneasy, even when things seemed to die down.

The wench appeared, looking like she’d not noticed a thing out of place. Nor did she seem to notice the figure who approached right behind her, their gaze glued to the posterior of the poor girl. Lorryn’s eyes fell over the towering newcomer and figured they stood at least Jericho’s height, she was far too familiar with looking up at that angle for them to not be closer. As her gaze drifted down she noted the musical instrument, the boots, and unless the light of the lanterns was playing tricks on her, the tips of a tail and wings. Interesting… It had only taken a second or two to take all that in and quickly she ordered her honey mead, boar, and an extra napkin, her gaze then settling on the cloaked stranger. “Would you like to join me for a drink?” she asked the winged figure, her curiosity getting the better of her. Then she grudgingly remembered her upbringing and what would only be the polite thing to do. A sigh in her thoughts, Lorryn turned to the Knight Lieutenant. “And you? There’s plenty of room.”

What better time to appease her inquisitiveness and get over her damned nervousness than the present? Besides, she planned on more than one mead and that always improved her outlook…

[Deleted]

So focused on the hindquarters of the tavern wench, the large halfblood was startled when a fight broke out beside her. Her muscles twitched. She was almost aching for a good brawl. She was so distracted for a moment that she paused the task of wench-watching. Eyes narrowing faintly, she held back a laugh as a dwarf was drenched with ale from the melee. It was quite possible that she was so distracted that she had even missed the original cause of the fight. Noting the guard uniforms they wore, however, she held back. No need for her to get in trouble with local authority figures. Though the thought of such people dissolving to infighting almost caused a grin to form. Almost.

Then, an elegantly clad woman bellowed at the guards. Amusement lit the fiend’s eyes as she watched the woman berate the men. Okay…caution to be had with that one. Knight Lieutenant Maldorn… The tall woman tasted the name mentally, trying to imprint it on her memory. What she had wasn’t indelible, but she could remember enough to call out the correct name the next morning or remember whom not to mess with. Focus off, Camilla readjusted her focus once more earning herself a nice eyeful. Again, she resumed pursuing the tavern maid. Barely unable to contain the joy she felt, she began to swivel her hips. It was not an irregular pattern but seemed…perhaps to the scholarly…that she was trying to write a name with her hips alone.

A very faint glow surrounded her eyes for only a moment, the halfblood feeling a very warm building surge of energy begin in the base of her spine. The magics coiled and rippled for a split second, filling her with even more heat before picking a destination. It rippled up her back in growing waves, setting her scalp to tingling before surging back down through her toes. Her body felt as if she’d been hit by lightning, the nerves very much alive and charged. She could almost imagine the invisible field of energy spreading out from the codpiece she wore under her clothing. Gyrating her hips still, the woman caused another release of magically charged energy.

*****

The Halfblood has just used The Cod of Seduction, roll 1d4 + will for a result of 10 or fall under her ‘Intrigue’.

*****

Those affected by the blast would view the tall woman with new eyes, and with every moment the attraction to the tall stranger grew stronger. She was no longer just a nameless, faceless patron of the tented area. Not only a visitor to the celebration. To those under the effects of her codpiece, Camilla was the living embodiment of their deepest dreams and darkest desires…wishes and wants that would whet the appetite but never be given the chance to see the light of day. It was fine though, Camilla could do the dark.

The object of her affections turned slowly, a deep flush coloring her cheeks a deep shade of rose. Spreading her feet to shoulder width apart, Camilla blew a strand of hair away from the flustered woman’s face. Grinning, Cam planted one hand on a hip. Up close, the true color of her eyes was visible, a deep red with yellow slits. Watching the wench’s eyes dilate, the halfblood was distracted a little by a voice directed her way. A brow arched as she noted the voice belonged to the pregnant woman. Her nostrils quivered a little then, realizing how close the woman was. Did that… Not that the tall woman had never bedded a pregnant woman before. Still…she did look at the expanse of belly, her features scrunching up a little comically as she thought. How in blazes… She knew she might be risking testing the limits of her own flexibility.

That was, of course, if she were to ignore the other people suddenly drawn to her. The effect spanned twenty feet on all sides so it was possible she would have more than one person’s attention later that eve. Even the closest guard seemed suddenly to ignore his orders and instead gravitated towards Cam. “Possible,” She muttered finally, trying not to stare too much at the heavily burdened woman in front of her. Almost slithering into a seat next to the woman, she pointedly turned her back to the Knight Lieutenant. “You buying?” Camilla asked. Then her attractive features creased into a grin. With a giggle the tavern wench, ignoring her other customers, threw herself into Camilla’s lap. One of the woman’s strong arms held the wench in place while the other extended towards the pregnant woman for a friendly forearm clasp of greeting. “Cam’s the name.” Camilla seemed to be ignoring the wench as the woman peppered her neck with kisses. “And you are?”

Even the letch eyeing the pregnant woman earlier was now hovering in the background, his attention entirely redirected.

[Deleted]

Trandatum, Imperia
20 of Iliast to 5 Ustramlin AoS 4010

Roll(1d4)+8:
4,+8
Total:12

The summer sun shone down on Ignisa as she strode lazily through the joyous shouts of the festivities. Imperia was at its most flamboyant at this time of day, and Ignisa enjoyed the sights and scenes the city offered at such times. The water chuckled merrily in the streams, dancing and spraying in the fountains as children splashed in them, watched by ever-concerned mothers. Despite the noon and the rays of the sun, the air was still cool, carrying a promise of the winter to come as the seasons turned and changed. Autumn was well on its way here, and after the festivities here, Ignisa would journey back to Aesterholm to Alirycas.

She had not had much reason to celebrate this year. After the disastrous Hssonid Raid at the Ilnfari Oasis Ignisa had spent at least a week recovering in as the effects of the magical battle caught up to her, and after returning to Alirycas was still unable to summon up enough strength to go and battle the Sandworms that soon plagued the great city of Contobur. Even now, she was still much thinner, and the dress she had hung more loosely than it had at the beginning of the year. Nonetheless, her health was largely recovered, and she would soon be at full physical health again.

Even as she walked, she laughed and exchanged greetings with the people around her, making jokes and occasionally buying a snack from one of the bazaar stalls set up in the area.

Then a wave of magic burst out from one of the nearby taverns, causing Ignisa to throw up a magical shield. As the magic swept past her and faded, Ignisa considered its contents. It was obviously some sort of seduction spell, judging from the images and suggestions pouring forth from the spell. Snorting to herself at the foolishness of some people, Ignisa turned out of curiousity and entered the tavern. Not that she had any thought of drinking wine herself. Irasa rarely did, and it was also bad for mages to do so - they lost control of their magics and their actions far too easily when drunk.

What she saw raised her eyebrows.

The source of the magic was a woman, and she had obviously cast some sort of seduction spell on the entire place. Apparently the tall woman didn't really care much about the tastes of others, male or female. Moving closer to the woman, who was bouncing the tavern maid on her lap, Ignisa touched her gently on the shoulder. "That burst of magic was quite noticeable. It is a pity that I have some magic of my own."

[Beast Master]

Random Encounter Roll-

55) Coin Purse (Add +1 XP to your thread gains. Player driven.)

Enjoy!

[Deleted]

Alric managed to dodge a majority of the ale flying at him from the hapless guards tankard, but failed to take into account the effects the impact of the boy striking his table would have on his own pitcher. Needless to say, he sighed at the terrible waste as he grabed the besotted guard and dragged him off the table. He couldn't help but feel slightly exasperated at the young men around him engaging in a pointless brawl, Not surprising, most humans seem to hold there drink as well as an average todler. He caught himself thinking along dwarven lines and shook his head at himself, It isn't the humans fault they can't handle their drink, they should be treated with compassion for their infirmity not belittled. He turned from his thoughts as a clear voice rang out and quieted the din. He turned to see a beautifu woman stalking towards a pair of tussling guardsmen like a tiger. As was customary for him, he took in the sight of her, her bearing and authority indicated she was of noble decent, the reactions of the guardsmen indicated either high military station or a connection to someone of station, her flawless skin and gently swingin hips drew the e-"Don't even think about it shorty."

Alric looked down at the young gaurdsman at his feet, "Pardon?" The lad glared at him, "I saw you eyeing the Knight lieutenants ass, don't even think about it you dirty bastard!" The boy delivered the line with such intensity Alric had to laugh, "Alright boyo, you've made your point, I won't try anything. You want a drink lad?" The young gaurdsman was somewhat mollified, "No, I should be getting back to my group." "Suit yourself lad, but in that case i'll ask you to replace the ale you spilled." The young guard was less than pleased at the prospect and refused biligerantly, rather than press the issue and get into a fight with a young man who had clearly had way to much alcohol for his own good Alric chose to just drop the issue and send the boy on his way.

Turning his attention back to the lady knight he was somewhat dissapointed that she was already back in her seat.