The Tavern

All names belong to their registered companies. Any names that appear in these documents do not belong to me.

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The foul weather outside blew and shook the shutters along the walkway as citizens tried to get to their destinations without being blown off and tossed to the ground far below, for such storms were not unusual in the small town of Solace, known as the crossroads of Kyrnn. A distance away, the rolling of thunder and the crash of lightening could be seen and heard, as the trees swayed to and fro from the increasing winds of the sky. Many people just didn’t care about the beauty of nature. They would rather be dry and drunk if the need suited them and for many it did.

The Inn of the Last Home stood in the tallest Vallenwood tree unharmed by the foul weather. Although there was at least a forty-foot climb up thin stairs that spiraled up the trunk of the tree, a slip would cause even a thick headed patron to split his head open. The wind wasn’t even noticed as the smell of quality ale and Otik's famous spicy potatoes were as popular as ever with this crowd, as they had been with the other crowds from the past. The storm outside wasn't even noticed as the patrons gawked at the waitresses and chatted about rumors, lost loves and anything of interest.

As silently as a kender in a glass shop, the waitress’s filled half-empty mugs, cleaned tables and avoided grabs from the usual patrons. Albeit a slow night for the waitress Lauranathias she cleaned the well-worn Vallenwood countertop that shone in the firelight which brightened up the Inn. With a sigh, she grabbed a tray, threw the rag onto her shoulder and brought over another round for a few of the regular patrons that were just finishing their drinks. A few playful swats later, she was back at the bar top, rubbing it down absentmindedly, occasionally blowing away a wisp of golden hair that fell limply onto her face. Her, ivory features always drew attention to her, and this night was no different than any other. Many patrons didn't know that she was a human; many had mistaken her as an elf, or at least a bastard of a half-elf. Her subtle curves and quiet speech often brought many advances from lonely men seeking a quick conquest, but she was not a simple tavern girl. Just a lonely one.

This dark and stormy night brought about a change in the talk of the Inn. Usually, merry and animated, many conversations were subdued by talk of battle. Such talk was of drunkards, but this night was different. It almost sounded true.

"Did you hear of the town to the North..." one man replied as she filled his tankard and moved onto the next patron.

"Bah! The north couldn't have been affected, like ye say." replies the other, holding out his mug for her to fill. She quickly complied.

"But, it’s true," answers the first. "For, I had a dispatch from a friend of mine who said that it was not only attacked, but, attacked by women riding a top of the backs of DRAGONS!." he solemnly replied.

"That's just a myth! There haven't been Dragons in Kyrnn since the Cataclysm. Finish yer drink and leave this one a tip." scoffed the second, trying to grab Lauranathias, but she simply slipped away back to the bar.

Then a gust of wind burst the Inn door open and a heavily cloaked warrior entered. Lauranathias calmly observed this new arrival with interest as did many other patrons in the Inn. Soon the patrons lost there interests and continued their conversations. The warrior strode over to the corner of the Inn, hand resting on the hilt of the sword and found a secluded seat in the shadows by the fireplace. With the muffled clink of armor the warrior sat down and motioned for one of the tavern girls. Lauranathias was already halfway with a tray ready to take the warrior’s order as he waved.

Bethanna also noticed the warrior’s wave and proceeded toward the same table. With a quick wave from Lauranathias, Bethanna simply shrugged and started to serve the other patrons. She reached the table as the warrior pulled off the thick cloak that was drenched by the weather outside to reveal that he was not a man, but a woman! Her hair shone like burning coals in the firelight, as a string of golden coins threaded on her headband glittered in the dancing light. Mesmerized, Lauranathias almost forgot her duties.

"May I get you anything My Lord.... err... My Lady?" she asked nervously, fearing some kind of backlash from the warrior. The warrior was exquisite, a true beauty and those that she had seen in the past did not even come close to this marvel in front of her. It was as if a spell had been cast.

"She may even be a Goddess" she thought to herself. Laurnathias stifled a gasp as the warrior’s emerald green eyes that seemed to glimpse into Lauranathias’ very soul, looked upon her.

The warrior drew a quick breath of her own as she gazed into Lauranathias’ eyes, stunned by their beauty. Many patrons of the past had commented to themselves that she was born in the ice caves from the North, because her eyes were blue as ice from a glacier and sometimes as cold as a frost giant’s heart. Lauranathias paid little attention to these tales, until this moment as she noticed the warrior staring intently at her. The warrior held her gaze for a long moment, seeing that behind these pale eyes, smoldered a fire hotter than the deserts of Plains.

The Warrior smiled and replied, "Bring me a flagon of your best ale." she said, "and find me a room."

"Coming right up, My Lady," she replied. "We have only one room available. It does have a fireplace, to warm you in such a night as this." she blushed furiously as she met the warrior’s gaze once more.

Noticing Lauranathias’ blush, the warrior thought to herself, "My, how pretty that blush is, and how it contrasts so well with her eyes."

The warrior's gaze lingered over Lauranathias as she spoke, taking in all of the tavern girl's beauty, nodding in approval. The warrior noted the girl’s long, golden hair, her elfish beauty, as only a seasoned veteran could observe. Her trim waist and shapely hips were concealed by a long dark skirt and broad belt. With a smile, she continued to size up this girl, observing the firm yet perky breasts beneath the fine, low-cut linen blouse that she wore. The warrior smiled thinking that this girl must attract the attention of many male patrons, idly wondering if she had succumbed to any of them. Resting her elbows on the table the warrior lazily propped her chin on her hands, regarding the girl thoughtfully, as if pondering her very existence.

"What is your name?" asked the warrior, stroking her jaw thoughtfully.

"My name is L-Lauranathias. My Lady" she replied as her bowed slightly and started back to the bar to get the warrior's order.

The girl's answer made the warrior smile, and un-realizing she began to speak her thoughts aloud, "A beautiful name, for one so beautiful".

She mused, as her eyes followed Lauranathias heading towards the bar, enjoying her graceful movements, but slightly disappointed that the girl had left her.

The warrior leaned back to hear the aged chair protest with a deep moan. As she stretched out her long booted legs she became exceedingly aware of some of the looks the two of them were getting from the other patrons. Looking around with her hand going toward the hilt of her sword she was ready for any malicious intent.

Having heard the last comment Lauranathias lost her concentration. Soon she found herself in a crowd of tables and patrons alike. Unfortunately she was drenched from head to toe as she was unable to avoid a drunkard throwing back his ale in a hap-hazard manner. She stumbled and with a loud thud she toppled the drunkard down to the ground, as her tray skirted across the Inn floor. Amid a barrage of jeers and whistles she dragged herself up. The warrior was grateful at the change of focus from herself as she noticed Lauranathias' top has become transparent with the addition of ale. With a sigh, the warrior turned her attention to the three brutes in the corner who were jeering the loudest at the girl's mishap. Feeling the anger boiling in her veins the impending fight would only bring attention to her which was a situation she would prefer to avoid. Taking a deep breath, the warrior took a sip of ale to calm down and continued assessing the men.

With a quick apology Lauranathias rushed into the kitchen in a blaze of tears and jeers of the drunks, she blushed even more. Quickly, she asked Bethanna to take over from her as she frantically searched for a new blouse. Sifting through the piles of white cloth that were either napkins or rags, she found the only shirt available which left little for even a kenders imagination. Lauranathias’ hand landed finally on a shirt in her size, this left little for even a kender to imagine. As she made her way back to the bar she pulled on the blouse with a sigh and quickly tried to regain her composure.

The warrior’s gaze shifted to the other waitress as she came out from the back of the bar. Another jeer arose from the crowd, but was quickly quieted once the patrons noticed it was not the ale soaked beauty Lauranathias. In her heart the warrior was disappointed. The new girl had neither the grace of a gazelle, nor the beauty of Lauranathias, but, she was at least an adequate server. Tossing a small steel coin her way, when her food and drink was delivered, the warrior simply thanked her.

The warrior regarded the rowdy drunks coolly. They were your typical brutish bullies; Slow, dumb and they would be lucky if they shared a brain between them. Men, go figure! With a small shake of her head, the warrior turned back to the noise and various catcalls and more jeers as Lauranathias appeared in a top that definitely wasn't as large as she hoped. It not only accented her natural beauty, but also increased the swell of her chest in a most confining manner.

Calmly she walked back into the tavern, past the catcalls and whistles; Lauranathias' embarrassment level has gone through the roof. Seeing her blush so a deeply crimson that rivaled that of the Red Robe mages, the warrior shifted side to side on her heals.

Bringing an empty tray, Lauranathias patiently waited around the table, she looked at the warrior occasionally caught glimpses of armour and flesh beneath the shoal.

"Would, My Lady, like anything else, tonight?" she asked out of curtiousy, still aware of the eyes upon her.

The warrior shifted slightly, turned her attention toward the girl as she noticed movement out of the corner of her eye.

The warrior’s senses became fully alert, not because of the question that was asked of her, but the pompousness of the staggering brute licking his lips and thrusting his hips towards Lauranathias in a suggestive and sickening manner. The brute came lumbering up from behind the girl. Hearing the brute too late, Lauranathias could do nothing as the putrid stench of the drunkard, painfully groped her ass.

Before, the warrior could react or answer the question; Lauranathias took her tray and slammed it with all her might into the smelly ogre’s head. Having turned to run, Lauranathias did not get very far as the brute shook off the hit, like a dog drying off from a bath. With a dazing hit he lunged towards Lauranathias knocking her aside. A thud sounded as the girl's head dented a nearby table.

The warrior stood and vaulted over the table while quickly dropping her hand to the flagon of ale and smashing it upon the brute's un-wieldy head. In a flurry of foam and shattered clay, the brute slumped down to the ground with a cry. Aware of movements behind her the other drunks staggered toward their fallen comrade’s aid. Seeing the blood shot eyes turn upon her, the warrior spun swiftly around and with a bone shattering crunch, kicked the advancing brute and felled him to the ground with a groan.

With a quick check on Lauranathias the warrior stepped between the remaining brute and the girl. Dropping into a defensive crouch, the warrior watched as he approached her position. Seeing there is to be a fight, the crowds scattered as both a scrapping of chairs and even a few dove out of the way, lest they were involved mistakenly. The brute rushed the warrior with slow, drunken punches. The warrior swiftly dodged and countered with a flurry of feints and blows that even the most hardened fighter would cringe at. As the brute stood their dazed from the blows, the warrior simply finished him with a high kick as he dropped to the floor in a spray of teeth and blood. The remaining brute backed off to help aid his bloody companion. Relaxing for a moment, the warrior glanced over at Lauranathias. She was pleased to see the serving wench reviving Laura.... with odors so strong that could wake the dead.

In the excitement of battle, many have said that they see beauty in all things. The warrior had never believed it before, but as she glanced at Lauranathias she finally understood the stories. The girl’s fragile beauty held her transfixed, as the small trickle of blood on her forehead contrasted with the golden hair and pale skin in a most beautiful way. The warrior, who was staring in awe, failed to notice the last brandish an old rusty dagger.

Briefly stirring, Lauranathias with dimly opened eyes, realized that Bethanna was carrying her. Noticing movement, Lauranathias gave a startled cry as a glint of steel flashed in the firelight. Otik the barkeep noticed it as well, and sternly shouted desperately,

"No weapons! No weapons! No bloodshed here!" he cried waving his bar-cloth at the fighters though did not interfere, with the battle in front of him, knowing that it was a little dangerous for the Innkeeper to break up.

The warrior heard Otik’s words, her hand moving away from her sword hilt, Lauranathias’ cry and the rustling movement from behind, warned her, but not in time. She spun around as the drunk slashed at her, stepping back swiftly, but not quickly enough. The dagger slashed at her stomach, glancing partly from her armour, but it was not enough, since a small trickle of blood streamed down her stomach. The warrior's instincts took over. The slow drunkard’s strength was no match for the warrior's keen reflexes. The fight was short and painful for one person, as a loud crack and a spray of teeth, the brute spun around, swaying on unsteady feet. With one finger, the female warrior lightly tapped the brute and with a thud fell to the ground his eyes rolled into the back of his head and a pool of blood spread from his broken nose and smashed mouth, staining the Vallenwood floors. The warrior stood over the defeated foe, her chest rising and falling as she slowly looked around at the rest of the patrons, seeing if any more would cause trouble.

The warrior’s eyes finally fall on the innkeeper as the sounds of voices broke the silence once more, seeing worry in his eyes at the damage in the Inn. There is much mumbling about steel that was bet during the fight, and talk of who the beautiful but deadly warrior is and why she is here. With deliberate strides towards him, not letting any see the discomfort the cut on her stomach has caused her, the warrior stopped before the innkeeper. She grasped a purse hanging on her belt and dropped it with a muffled thud onto the counter in front of her. The pouch was heavy, and the innkeeper recognized the clink of steel, music to all Tavern owners’ ears. The warrior’s hard eyes briefly softened, a flash of sorrow passed across her face as she traced her finger lightly over the soft velvet in which the money was encased, remembering what the money cost her. The warrior knew she was rich, but the price of her wealth was too high, although there was no other choice. Her eyes softened and a hint of a smile crossed her face, at the memory of the time before, the time she had spent with the princess’ before the king had banished her, sending her away with the large bribe.

"It was an ill deal," she thought, wondering if the hurt would heal. Only time would tell.

Otik cleared his throat, and with a determined look at the innkeeper, and a slight nod toward Lauranathias, the warrior simply stated,

"I would go to my room now. Have her bring me wine, good food, enough for two, and hot bathwater. She will stay and wait upon me until I am done with her."

The owner looked unsure, but the warrior pushed the purse towards him and his eyes brightened like a child at Festival. With a nod, he ordered the stable boy to dump the unconscious drunks outside, and then looked around for someone to lead the warrior to her room. Lauranathias immediately stepped forward, since it was she that was asked for personally.

"This way My Lady" Lauranathias humbly replied as she ascended the stairway. The worn old steps creaked and groaned, as if remembering the weight of many patrons from the past. At the top of the stairs, there were very few rooms.

The warrior smiled as she followed Lauranathias made her way up the stairway. Her eyes followed the sway of the girl's hips, as they continued along the hallway. She hesitated a moment at the door listening carefully before going inside, surveying the chamber, the warriors grip didn't leave the security of her blade. Smiling warmly at the girl, the warrior calmly rested her hand on the hilt as she covered her discomfort and the small trickle of blood that seeped from the wound.

Lauranathias pulled out a chair for the warrior to sit down, the warrior's eyes never left the girl's slender, shapely form. Lauranathias busied herself getting a fire prepared so that the warrior could relax in comfort. After a few moments the soft crackle of kindling was heard as the fire slowly warmed up the room. Retreating down the stairs, she found that Bethanna had already laid out the drinks and food for her and the warrior.

"But, this was Otik's private stock! He never gives it out, unless the customer either paid for it, or he feels that it is good business." Lauranathias pondered to herself. This was a mystery, but figuring that the warrior female wouldn't like to be kept waiting Lauranathias swiftly carried the tray up the stairs and into the warrior's room, laying the tray onto the table before the warrior.