The golden blonde high elven lass would wander into the rustic old tavern by the lake. The interior of the tavern would be a mix of stone brick walls and wooden flooring and furniture. The bar was almost like a wall of wood with windows carved out for the barkeep to stand and not only accept orders, but serve them on the counter that sat there with stools. The elven lady made her way to the corner table away from most other who would frequent the tavern and sit down, adjusting her skirt and lowering her hood to reveal her face and chocolate brown eyes. She wore a dark grey gown with a dark purple inner skirt and torso. Her shoulders were covered in dark grey fabric of her dress followed by dark grey sleeves underneath her black cloak. The lass kept her gaze to the floor and the table top, trying not to make eye contact with anyone around her. It would be quite obvious that she seemed distressed as she sat there silently, lost in her own thoughts.
Ever westward the wanderer walked.
The low evening sun was harsh in his eyes, though he'd grown accustomed to the painful squint, which had given him crow's feet at the corners of his eyes. Crow's feet, he thought with a smirk, eying the white bird that was his pale shadow. His face almost looked too young to be so weathered, with its soft, boyish curves now hardened by his long trek.
He reached into a pouch to procure a flask--empty. He went for the second one slipped into his boot--also empty. So were the several others he kept hidden on his person. The sun was harsh and he was parched ... it was time to rest.
In time his journey took him to the unmarked tavern by the lake, and he pushed open its door. It was quiet, occupied by only a few people slouched over their drinks, the barkeep, and a tall, blond woman sitting alone in the corner. If any of them were to look at him in turn, they'd see a figure mostly hidden by a billowing dust-colored mantle, bearing a massive shield upon his back, its device covered in burlap. Clearly he was armed and armored as well.
"Fill these," he told the barkeep, handing over his empty flasks. "And if you've any on the fire, a spiced wine."
As the Hanged Man waited for his drink, he turned a weary green eye upon the woman in the corner. She didn't look like she belonged here.
The low evening sun was harsh in his eyes, though he'd grown accustomed to the painful squint, which had given him crow's feet at the corners of his eyes. Crow's feet, he thought with a smirk, eying the white bird that was his pale shadow. His face almost looked too young to be so weathered, with its soft, boyish curves now hardened by his long trek.
He reached into a pouch to procure a flask--empty. He went for the second one slipped into his boot--also empty. So were the several others he kept hidden on his person. The sun was harsh and he was parched ... it was time to rest.
In time his journey took him to the unmarked tavern by the lake, and he pushed open its door. It was quiet, occupied by only a few people slouched over their drinks, the barkeep, and a tall, blond woman sitting alone in the corner. If any of them were to look at him in turn, they'd see a figure mostly hidden by a billowing dust-colored mantle, bearing a massive shield upon his back, its device covered in burlap. Clearly he was armed and armored as well.
"Fill these," he told the barkeep, handing over his empty flasks. "And if you've any on the fire, a spiced wine."
As the Hanged Man waited for his drink, he turned a weary green eye upon the woman in the corner. She didn't look like she belonged here.
The lass would glance up from the table to get a look at the rest of the tavern and she'd spot the gentleman, causing her to blush lightly for making any sort of eye contact with. She'd clasp her hands together on her lap with care, running her fingers over the wooden carved wedding band on her ring finger, which had 'M + F' in Elven carved into it and inked in to make it visible to the eye. She thought to herself silently, I certainly hope Carwyn is alright and that Faeltor might be found around here.. She'd pull out her Holy book of 'The Celestial Church of the Divine One', opening it up and reading quietly to herself "Be mindful and patient, and remember that life is a temporary hardship. Bear no vengeful feelings, and do not be quick to anger, as all souls are holy." With this, she'd clasp her hands together before her and whisper "Praise be He, for His Radiance is the center of all."
As Melodia's eyes skipped away from his, so too did his from hers, complete with the same blush blooming upon his scarred cheeks.
As he waited for his drinks, he counted out the coins he'd need to pay for them. But the day had been long and his hands were tired and aching. He fumbled the pouch, spilling coins of many mints and nationalities on the floor, though it was clear he wasn't a wealthy man. One of the tavern's other patrons reached down for one of them, but the Hanged Man shot him a baleful glare to stay his hand.
He crouched to begin scooping coins back into his pouch, but once it came to picking up individual pieces from the floorboards, the task proved to be beyond him. Sighing, he pulled off his right glove, baring his mangled and twitching hand. He had marginally more luck without the bulky glove to hinder him, but still continued to struggle.
Unbeknownst to the swordsman, one of the coins had rolled all the way to the corner where Melodia sat. It bounced against the leg of the table and rattled to a rest. It was a heavy silver piece of some worth.
As he waited for his drinks, he counted out the coins he'd need to pay for them. But the day had been long and his hands were tired and aching. He fumbled the pouch, spilling coins of many mints and nationalities on the floor, though it was clear he wasn't a wealthy man. One of the tavern's other patrons reached down for one of them, but the Hanged Man shot him a baleful glare to stay his hand.
He crouched to begin scooping coins back into his pouch, but once it came to picking up individual pieces from the floorboards, the task proved to be beyond him. Sighing, he pulled off his right glove, baring his mangled and twitching hand. He had marginally more luck without the bulky glove to hinder him, but still continued to struggle.
Unbeknownst to the swordsman, one of the coins had rolled all the way to the corner where Melodia sat. It bounced against the leg of the table and rattled to a rest. It was a heavy silver piece of some worth.
(May I join?)
Shadow wolf wrote:
(May I join?)
(I would be okay with it, but it's up to Melodia
)
(Okay is she on? Cause I have a good character shadow wolf is a good character she is half wolf and human she has wolf ears and a tail but she mostly hides them she normally wears a hat on her ears and hides her tail)
(I wondered if it's possible for me to join?)
(- The Hanged Man, it's been a while!
)
(- The Hanged Man, it's been a while!
)
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