Miroslaw was thrown off by the response of the bartender. Being a large man in a small world, things often broke under his extraordinary weight. Rarely was he not held fully responsible for the objects that were unable to withstand his enormity. To Miroslaw, this was a mighty kind gesture. He simply nodded at the barkeep and began picking up the pieces, stacking them by the fireplace.
Just after finishing the labor, Zarr entered the tavern. It was a welcomed sight in his current state of embarrassment. He pulled his hood back and began walking towards aged Soren. He ejected his hand for a shake and would partake in the Soren arm grasp as well. He questioned, "How've you been, my friend?"
Death is no more than turning us over from time to eternity. Whether that eternity is damnation or salvation is determined in the time we have.
"No. Not and army. But I'm not the only one there that isn't a Healer.
AND...they have what we lack.
Coin and friends.
Who WOULDN'T want the Healers to owe them one?"
(Brush up on your faction lore mister. Galena has militant zealots aplenty....
... is what I had posted, til I checked and the lore needs some serious updating! I know it's been covered in game, but hasn't been specified on the board. Watch this space for more info, I suppose.
Ama came to the tavern alone. Her hopes of running into a certain purple-haired cat-girl had dwindled fractionally, and Ama was beginning to think that perhaps the one she sought may have left town altogether.
In the meantime, the young demoness decided to spend some time people-watching within the hub of Wistvale society. Taking a seat at the bar, Ama ordered an ale and spun around on her stool to get a better look at the establishment's occupants.
A few folk she recognized from around town but only by their faces. She hadn't had any actual interactions with them and had yet to feel inclined to do so. Ama half-listened to a couple of those bulky, giant-like men - Sourons? Seerens? - as they greeted one another.
But looking at them only made her feel shorter, so she continued glancing around the room. It wasn't long before she spotted her friend Dionne, who was there speaking to a rather attractive-looking Sonari. Ama wasn't close enough to hear what they were talking about so, instead of interrupting their conversation, she gave a friendly wave in Dee's direction.
In response to the invitation, Ama eagerly hopped off the bar stool, grabbed her ale and approached Dionne and her companion. An amicable smile blossomed upon the demon girl's face.
"Hello, Dee. Haven't seen you around much lately. Life keeping you busy?"
"Just a little. Me and my new companion managed to run into a little bit of trouble, and were trying to figure out a way to deal with it." Dionne signalled for yet another ale!
The young demoness moved the tankard from her right hand to her left, before she happily accepted the woman's hand with a pleasant grin.
"Pleased to meet you, Dani. I'm Ama."
She gazed for a moment into the Sonari's green eyes, the same color as her Prince's.
"Are you new to Wistvale? I'm fairly new, myself, so wouldn't have a clue if you were or not. In fact, Dee here was actually the first person I spoke to when I came to town.
So, what trouble are you gals in? Perhaps I could help."
::She set her unfinished ale before her with a silent vow to take it easy going forward.::
"A pleasure to meet you, Ama. I've been here for a bit, but always good to meet new faces.
Dionne and I had a run in with what we THINK are Taliseri..."Thorn Elves" in some stories. They seem to have an interest in a Sonari village north of here in the Mirkwood. Unfortunately, they had us outnumbered and we were lucky to leave with our lives.
We were just discussing ways we could go back and see just WHY they have taken over the village..."
::She was speaking loudly, due to the drink, and her voice could be heard carrying through the Tavern.::
"I do not aim with my hand; he who aims with his hand has forgotten the face of his father.
I aim with my eye.
I do not shoot with my hand; he who shoots with his hand has forgotten the face of his father.
I shoot with my mind.
I do not kill with my gun; he who kills with his gun has forgotten the face of his father.
I kill with my heart."
"Thorn elves? Hmm, I feel as if I've heard that name before..." Ama pondered for a moment but nothing really came to mind. "Ah well, I can't remember...but I'm glad you made it out alive."
The young demoness tilted her head back to take a drink of her ale, causing her blue hair to momentarily part and reveal the white tips of her short Haisheth horns.