[Nexus] Trog's Tavern CCXLIV

[Zefir]

Dragonborn Table

Just in case a 'twenty year old elven girl' the twenty related to human age or elven age, because I assume human at this point.

"I see, people would panic otherwise or even badder they would n't mind a dragon appearing in the streets. But we are in the nexus near everyone could be a threat on the street after all." he sais. It's so true.

"Well, let's go on. The reason I send the message to the WALL is rather simple. I would like to know first hand informations from dragons in the Nexus. Mostly about childhood and events in that time."

[Dark Elf Bard]

Dragonborn Table

I meant just, y'know, fairly young-looking.

Okay! Ask away, I got the info.

[McBish]

Angie walks into the tavern and makes her way over to the bar where she takes a seat. She is wearing a pair of old jeans and a large wool coat with a t-shirt underneath. She also has added some jewelry to her outfit with a gold necklace with a blue gemstone in it and a matching ring. She takes a seat ordering some gyros and wine for lunch.

[Morty]

Wenomir undeadtimes, leaning against the bartop and sipping some watered-down drink. Years of abstinence mean that he still has a fairly weak head for alcohol. Besides, he's here mostly to keep an eye on things.

[Zefir]

Dragonborn Table

I meant just, y'know, fairly young-looking.

Okay! Ask away, I got the info.

"Is there something I should care if I got a baby dragon? Illness, food, teaching him flying and all that."

[Gnrlshrimp]

Ithuriel enters the tavern and-

Whoa.

Hey, what happened here?

The angel wasn't around to see the MagSat impact. No doubt by now Trog's is well on its way to being fully repaired as is always the case when it gets blown up, but I dare say there's still a fair few signs of damage at this stage.

A little puzzled, Ithuriel makes her way over to the bar and orders herself a drink.

She glances at Wenomir, pauses, then peers a little closer. "Hey, you're from Watchtower, aren't you? Do you know what happened here?"

[Dark Elf Bard]

"Is there something I should care if I got a baby dragon? Illness, food, teaching him flying and all that."

She looks concerned and a bit nervous. You have a youngling? That's... not good. They usually need another dragon to help them with flying and that sort of thing.

Do you want me to take a look at it?

[Morty]

Ithuriel enters the tavern and-

Whoa.

Hey, what happened here?

The angel wasn't around to see the MagSat impact. No doubt by now Trog's is well on its way to being fully repaired as is always the case when it gets blown up, but I dare say there's still a fair few signs of damage at this stage.

A little puzzled, Ithuriel makes her way over to the bar and orders herself a drink.

She glances at Wenomir, pauses, then peers a little closer. "Hey, you're from Watchtower, aren't you? Do you know what happened here?"

"Magtok dropped a stallite on Trog's to save the sorry hide of one of his clones," Wenomir says. "It's sort of what he does."

[Gnrlshrimp]

"Ah, I see. A shame I wasn't nearby to provide aid." Ithuriel's drink arrives and she takes a sip. She doesn't really know how much she could've done to help, but...

Satellites aren't particularly easy things to stop, but she probably could've aided the injured or something.

"Very unfortunate. But this misfortune has led to encountering you. I've been thinking of trying to join Watchtower, you see."

[Zefir]

She looks concerned and a bit nervous. You have a youngling? That's... not good. They usually need another dragon to help them with flying and that sort of thing.

Do you want me to take a look at it?

Oh dear. He should really care how he spells his questions. having this unkown person close to the baby dragon might be bad for his plans.

"Don't worry, It's just an assumption. Much easier to ask questions that way." he says in a friendly sound. LEt'shope she goes for that.

After all the masked man takes notes.

[Morty]

"Ah, I see. A shame I wasn't nearby to provide aid." Ithuriel's drink arrives and she takes a sip. She doesn't really know how much she could've done to help, but...

Satellites aren't particularly easy things to stop, but she probably could've aided the injured or something.

"Very unfortunate. But this misfortune has led to encountering you. I've been thinking of trying to join Watchtower, you see."

"Oh? How fortuitous. But first things first. What's your name?" Wenomir asks. "I assume that you already know who I am if you recognized me."

[Gnrlshrimp]

"My name is Ithuriel. And yes, I know who you are." At a glance, Ithuriel probably doesn't look like much of a fighter, wearing a simple white robe and sandals. She gives off a faint golden glow, but, well, she looks rather peaceful all in all.

And she is.

She does also have a pair of sheathed swords though.

And the eyes of a veteran warrior such as Wenomir could probably notice that Ithuriel must be well-built, perhaps even notice the faint outline of some sort of armour worn beneath her robes...

[Morty]

"Pleased to meet you. So, what are your talents and reasons to want to join? I can see that you're wearing armor under that robe," Wenomir says.

[Gnrlshrimp]

Ithuriel hops off her bar stool and bows to Wenomir, "And it is an honour to meet you. And a good eye you have, to spot my armour. It's a mithril breastplate, modified to allow me to wear it comfortably and without impeding my movement." Not the best armour in the world, nowhere close, but it provides her with some added protection without hindering her abilities.

"My reason for joining is...simple. As an angel, my service to my god always comes first, but I am blessed to have a master who allows me a great degree of freedom to do as I wish. Before I became an angel, I dedicated myself to protecting the weak and fighting evil. I perhaps did not always see clearly. But as an angel I know better than to simply lash out at all evil without reason. The Nexus is home to many people who cannot defend themselves. They need groups like Watchtower to be their sword and their shield, to repel whatever foe may wish to strike them down. Why work alone in my free time when I can add my strength to yours and better aid those in need of help?"

Ithuriel rises from her bow and hops back onto her stool.

"As for my talents? I have been a warrior for a long time. I am far stronger than I appear. If memory serves correct, you are something of a master with the sword, aren't you? I very much doubt I'm as talented as you, but I know how to use my blades well enough. And I am capable of wielding a fraction of my master's power, as is the case with most angels. But whilst in the past I was quick to turn to violence, I prefer to think of it as a last resort now. I have been learning how to use words to solve problems that do not require the sharp edge of a sword."

[Morty]

"That's as good reason as any that I've ever seen," Wenomir says. He can't help but be glad to be acknowledged as a master of the sword. He is rather prideful. "And we could use more people who can solve problems with words. Diplomacy has never been our strong suit."

[Gnrlshrimp]

"I would not think of myself as a master diplomat, but...an angel's presence can be rather calming." Indeed, Ithuriel does seem to have some sort of calming influence. Nothing major, but just this sort of vague feeling of peacefulness others may feel in her presence. "As I said, I'm learning. I would not suggest relying on me for such matters, but I'll certainly do what I can to avoid a fight."

[Hattish Thing]

A man walks into the bar. He's wearing a navy top hat and a navy and gold coat that reaches his ankles with gold buttons. His coat looks like this.

Spoiler

Show

He has soft blue eyes and dark brown hair hair that reaches his shoulders. He wears two black leather gloves and carries a pistol. He looks over at Wenomir and Ithuriel. They looked like good, honest people. He walks close and waits for a temporary break of speech to ask, Hello? Could I have some help? My name is Inspector McCal. Have you seen this man? He came to this place about a year and a half ago. He's been missing. He shows a picture of a man in a suit like his, but with gold stripes of high rank.

[Morty]

"That's enough for-" Wenomir pauses when a man approaches them. "No, I've never seen him," he says.

[Gnrlshrimp]

Ithuriel looks at the picture, "No, I'm afraid I've never seen anyone like that either."

[Hattish Thing]

He frowns and rolls up the scroll. He'll then attempt to sit beside the pair. He asks for a watered down glass of whiskey. He speaks to them. Sorry to interrupt, but do you know where a man like me could get a job? Or...join a group of some sort? I was a police officer before our city was destroyed. Cylar. I'm Haeler Mccal.

[Morty]

Wenomir shrugs.
"The closest thing we have to police around these parts is a group calling itself Remnant. You might try your luck with them if you have this sort of training."

[Gnrlshrimp]

Ithuriel has nothing to add. She doesn't really know where to suggest. Anything she might recommend probably wouldn't be as good as Wenomir's suggestion anyway.

So she just takes another sip of her drink, adds a slight nod, and that's it.

[Hattish Thing]

McCal nods and sips his drink before speaking. Thank you, I might see you again. I apologize for interrupting earlier.

In the corner, Marty walks in. He's wearing a long black hooded cloak, with the hood pulled over him. His black cloak is magical, and belonged to Shada. It's left side is burnt up. As is his black and silver coat on the left. He's sitting at a table waiting for Elio. He wears gloves as well.

[Dark Elf Bard]

Oh dear. He should really care how he spells his questions. having this unkown person close to the baby dragon might be bad for his plans.

"Don't worry, It's just an assumption. Much easier to ask questions that way." he says in a friendly sound. LEt'shope she goes for that.

After all the masked man takes notes.

She raises an eyebrow. [COLOR="rgb(72, 209, 204)"]I'd prefer you didn't look like you're lying.[/COLOR]

[OrchestraHc]

McCal nods and sips his drink before speaking. Thank you, I might see you again. I apologize for interrupting earlier.

In the corner, Marty walks in. He's wearing a long black hooded cloak, with the hood pulled over him. His black cloak is magical, and belonged to Shada. It's left side is burnt up. As is his black and silver coat on the left. He's sitting at a table waiting for Elio. He wears gloves as well.

The old wizard Elio and his long haired apprentice Romeo blip into Trog's with nary a care in the world. He may not recognize Marty immediately, as he looks around for the quiet little cook he went on a revenge mission with.

[Zefir]

The man shrugs.

"The mask is for my own defence." then he lowers his voice "I got a fireworkshop running and every time I go on the streets unmasked, people surround me and ask me for my service. It's really annoying."

[Morty]

Ithuriel has nothing to add. She doesn't really know where to suggest. Anything she might recommend probably wouldn't be as good as Wenomir's suggestion anyway.

So she just takes another sip of her drink, adds a slight nod, and that's it.

McCal nods and sips his drink before speaking. Thank you, I might see you again. I apologize for interrupting earlier.

In the corner, Marty walks in. He's wearing a long black hooded cloak, with the hood pulled over him. His black cloak is magical, and belonged to Shada. It's left side is burnt up. As is his black and silver coat on the left. He's sitting at a table waiting for Elio. He wears gloves as well.

"It's no problem," Wenomir says with a shrug before turning back to Ithuriel.

"So, where were we? I believe you were telling me about your skill at diplomacy."

[Hattish Thing]

The old wizard Elio and his long haired apprentice Romeo blip into Trog's with nary a care in the world. He may not recognize Marty immediately, as he looks around for the quiet little cook he went on a revenge mission with.

Well, Marty waves at Elio, gesturing him to the table with his right hand, which looks completely normal, except he wears big black gloves and a long jacket. Provided they move to the table Marty offers them each a choice of a glass of water or wine, which he had purchased earlier. His hood covers his face almost completely, but Elio can still noticed the tip of Marty's small nose, and oddly enough only his right eye glitters out at them. His entire suit is burnt on the left side, and his left hand is tucked away in a pocket. H-Hello...old f-friend of mine.

[OrchestraHc]

Elio and Romeo sit down with Marty and give each other a sideways glance. "Oh dear," Romeo mumbles, taking a sip of water.

"Oh dear, indeed. A previously friendly cook wearing cloaks and hoods and gloves and burnt suits. Something catastrophic happened," Elio says out loud before taking a drink of wine. "You seemed quite desperate to speak with me Marty, do tell me what's wrong. Then maybe we can discuss magic lessons." He offers the magical discussion as a bit of honey to attract the fly.

[Hattish Thing]

Elio and Romeo sit down with Marty and give each other a sideways glance. "Oh dear," Romeo mumbles, taking a sip of water.

"Oh dear, indeed. A previously friendly cook wearing cloaks and hoods and gloves and burnt suits. Something catastrophic happened," Elio says out loud before taking a drink of wine. "You seemed quite desperate to speak with me Marty, do tell me what's wrong. Then maybe we can discuss magic lessons." He offers the magical discussion as a bit of honey to attract the fly.

Marty looks at them and takes a sip from a mystery liquid already ordered. It's a nasty dark green liquid, which looks like some kind of medicine. He looks at Elio, his eye sparkling just the way it used to, with that friendly, if timid look. Horrible? You could say that. The red text is indeed Marty speaking, but it sounds...deeper, and twisted. Then it's gone and his normal speech come back, as if nothing happened. Y-Yes....something like that. Elio, don't d-derogate me, or insult m-me. K-Keep your comments c-civil. Next, he tilts his head to the light, exposing his left face to the pair.

It's....horribly burnt, down to the bone. A skull. The left side of Marty's face is a skull. The burns start at the top of his head, and down to his chin his left face is completely burnt off. His neck is scarred, but not burnt so badly. The left side of his body down to his hips is terribly burnt. I w-was attacked....about a week and a half ago. A man with a knife t-tried to take my wallet in my sleep, upstairs. I r-resisted. He cast some spell... F-Fire, black m-magic. A flame that feeds on f-fear. Next, he stabbed my right leg. Then I j-jumped out the window to escape. A w-woman found me, and brought m-me to GLoG. They d-did the b-best I could do. And Shada is dead.