Fernwood Breakfast
Tenebrae - Sunday, April 10, 2016, 8:48 AM
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-<* A07: Fernwood Pub *>--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
The common room of the Fernwood Pub dominates the inn, spacious and airy because of the high, vaulted ceiling. Ornately carved beams of dark, polished wood form a lattice overhead, supporting the arched roof two storeys above the floor. To the right of the double-door entry is a spiral staircase, winding upwards to a balcony that rings and overlooks the main area. Large windows at this level grant an excellent view of the river to the west and colorful market stalls to the north and east. An air of coziness is salvaged by keeping the pub dimly lit; parchment-shrouded mana lanterns hang at intervals from the base of the balcony, nestled amongst lush, magically propagated ivy and ferns that grow over this false demi-ceiling and the struts that support it.
The bar is sleek and simple, comprised of meticulously polished black lacquer. Tables are set under the darker niches formed by the balcony floor as well as on the balcony itself. A few are deliberately sized to accommodate halflings and gnomes, but the majority are meant for human-sized individuals. A large common table is on the main floor, set before a semi-circular stage situated against the western wall. Beside it, with pipes mounted upon the wall and running up past the balcony and almost to the ceiling, is a refurbished pipe organ made to look like the one lost when the Fernwood was destroyed during the Merkabah Siege.
Orenthal is here at a table, having breakfast.
Myaris wanders into the pub. She comes in, the hood of her robes pulled up and hiding her features, her hands deep her the sleeves as well. The hood turns from side to side a bit as she takes in the pub, seeing it not too busy, she reaches up her grey hands pushing the hood back showing her silver hair and purple eyes. She starts towards a table. (Repose)
Orenthal offers a nod to Myaris as she heads to a table. He's eating breakfast at a table of his own, and he remarks in passing, "I'd swear there must be more Mul here than in Charn!"
Mikilos exits out of the back room, idly tucking a tool kit into his haversack as he moves around to the front of the bar. Glancing towards Orentahl at the comment, the Llyranesi shrugs. "Not hardly, but quite a few around. Alexandros tends to view people as people, not part of some race." Except gnomes, of course.
Myaris winces a bit at Orenthal's statement but at least she isn't having things thrown at her, that has happened. The grey skinned elf shrugs a little, "This is where my path has led." she says and for those aware, her accent almost sounds more like from the area of the Vast, "I had not realized there were many of my people here." she is uneasy saying that like she doesn't agree with part of it.
Orenthal looks over at Mikilos, then nods slowly. "It's as you say. And then again, the people that come here to live aren't raving, kill-crazed maniacs." He considers. "Or the ones that are join the Guild and confine their activities to ... legitimate acts of mayhem." His expression is apologetic to Myaris, "Oh, no, I wasn't complaining. I was simply surprised! Please, join me if you will, I bear you no ill will."
Mikilos chuckles softly. "Oh, are plenty of psychopaths around, but between the Watch and members of the Guild, they tend to be delt with swiftly. Still, while the population of Mul'niessa is higher here than most places, that's really a sign of how rare a welcome is received elsewhere that suggesting a large local population." The tall elf frowns thoughtfully. "Quite a few are paladins, come to think of it."
Myaris nods, "Well hopefully the ones here tend more towards my temperment and less towards most of my kind." she shakes her head and then nods and smiles a bit, "Thank you." she says to Orenthal and then does move over and slips into a seat. "I am Myaris Blackclaw." she offers.
Orenthal peers at Mikilos, and asks, "So you are saying that Alexandria is the destination of choice for Mul of good heart? That's good, at least. If only that were true of humans and dwarves," he adds with a laugh. "Orenthal Maximus," he introduces himself to Myaris and Mikilos. "Well met. How are you this fine morning?"
Mikilos nods, and takes a seat as well. "Archmagus Mikilostravia Abrioudelanarchie Mithralla, Lord of Estranillia, Builder Arcane." He glances towards the back room. "And sometimes general handyman. Amazing how rare is the one who can repair a simple stove without trying to make it bigger and stronger." He gihs, turning his attention back to thsoe at the table. "Anyway, just 'Mikilos' is fine."
- He sighs, turning his attention
Myaris looks at both of them and then nods her head, "A pleasure, it finds me well nough, nothing thrown at me today, and that is always good. But then nothing really has in this city."
Orenthal smiles smoothly as Mikilos rattles off a list of names. "I see," he says after a moment, and he laughs as the shorter name is offered. "Very well," he accepts. "It is good to meet you. Though I am surprised that one such as you is called in to work on a simple stove. Ours was made by a blacksmith and has worked for years. Or do you mean an arcane stove? That must be a strange thing indeed. Though simple for you, of course." He smiles to Myaris, and says, "Then I am happy for you, if things have gone well. Or at least have not gone badly. Though I wonder, would people throw things, if you -were- the type to kill them where they stand. People are brave at the oddest times."
Aldean has arrived.
Mikilos chuckles. "A stove of simple mechanics, not true artifice, but more complex than the average wood burner. I've been a patron of the Fernwood for some time, help out now and again. A good pub or tavern is needed for a healthy culture of adventurers, you know." He turns focus to Myaris. "So what brings you to the Lost City of the Mists, and from where, if you don't mind my asking?"
Myaris nods as she listens and then smiles, to Orenthal, "Probably if I killed a couple first then they wouldn't throw things." she is teasing obviously. The grey skinned mul smiles and nods to Mikilos, "Is that what is needed? Most recently I came from the Vast. Born in Charn though." she shakes her head, "Eluna called me though from as far back as I can remember and I followed her guidance."
Orenthal nods slowly to Mikilos, though it seems he doesn't really understand the difference. "I ... er... see." A stove is a stove to him, not that he's ever cooked for himself. "That sounds fascinating." He ohs, and nods slowly as Myaris mentions Eluna. "I image that call is not common in Charn, nor well-appreciated. It is good that you came here, then."
The door opens again, admitting another figure from the grey chill of the day. Aldean pauses long enough to keep the door from slamming behind him, then swings off his cloak with an easy motion and loops it over an arm as he starts for the bar, not appearing to have caught notice of anyone currently present yet.
Mikilos nods. "Alexandria brings many types, for many reasons, so is possible to find most anything if you know where to look. I'm guessing you're settled with the temple?" Glancing up as someone enters, he raises a hand in greeting to Aldean.
Myaris shakes her head, "Oh not that kind of calling." she says and shakes her head a bit again, "No, not a member of the clergy, though I do worship at the temples. I am a sorceress." she says softly.
Orenthal nods agreement with Mikilos about Alexandria bringing many types. "And a good thing it is, too. Many people with many purses," he laughs. He nods to Myaris about being a sorceress, and says, "Well, that is a gift as well. I am glad you choose to use it here rather than there." He looks over as Aldean enters, and looks the fellow over curiously.
Aldean's almost to the bar when he spots the raised hand, and raises his own in return, flashing an easy grin of recognition at the dawn elf. He doesn't join the group yet, though, instead making for the bar and bespeaking food and drink. Coins change hands, a tankard and bowl are set on the counter.
Mikilos blinks, and shrugs. "Could still set within the temple, I suppose. Though I'm not sure I truely follow. Most sorcery with which I am familiar flows from the blood of ancestors."
Myaris sighs a little, "I am a sorceress, dragonblooded I guess since it is what runs through my veins. What I meant by called was that I always felt out of place, that I didn't belong and I had dreams, it was those that led me to flee, and ended up in the Vast, with a clan of Sylvanori. That is where I most recently come from."
Mikilos ahs, nodding. "I had misunderstood. Though I suppose if anyone could make someone a sorcerer just by willing it, would be the Sky-Singer." The wizard hesitatees a moment, and sighs sadly.
Orenthal looks a bit surprised at Mikilos's admission, but says nothing. He glances over between Mikilos and Aldean, and wonders, "Is that a friend of yours? By all means, invite him over." He nods slowly at Myaris, and says, "I'll wager that's a story filled with tension and drama. I've heard they don't care for people escaping their lands."
Having collected drink and chow, Aldean seems perfectly inclined to invite himself over, actually, moving in the group's direction. "Fair winds, Mikilos," he greets in a baritone voice that is well-produced, but with an edge to it that suits the sailor's or dockworker's brogue that mars the sound. He surveys the llyranesi's companions, one blonde eyebrow arching. "An' fair winds to the both o' ye," he adds. "Have ye got room fer one more?"
Myaris nods her head, "True, though I think I was always going to be a sorceress." she shakes her head, "The power showed up in me, its just I was given a way to express myself before it was drilled out of me, like it is common where I come from." she looks over and dips her head to Aldean, "There is room, if it is fine with the others." she says softly.
Mikilos hehs, and pushes out a seat for Aldean, nodding to Myaris. "Having the potential is one thing, harnessing it is quite another. I'm confidant of my personal potential, but I've chosen to develop my hermatic abilities instead."
Orenthal smiles to Aldean, and says, "By all means, join us. I am Orenthal Maximus. It is good to meet you." The table is laid for Orenthal's breakfast, though he is just finishing it up. He nods gravely to Myaris. "Then it was brave of you to escape and come here, by any route. But it is good you have come! Welcome." He looks puzzled at Mikilos's explanation, but the arcane is one of many things he doesn't understand.
"An' fine abilities those be, mate," Aldean grins at Mikilos, pulling up a chair and setting his burden down on an unused spot at the table. "I be Aldean, chaser o' stories and trouble," he offers to Orenthal. At the man's puzzled look, he adds, "There be more'n one way o' learnin' the arcane," he explains. "There be them as reach it by instinct, an' thinkin' yer lady friend here be among 'em," he nods to Myaris, "an' them as study its theory," he nods to Mikilos.
Myaris nods her head, "Myaris Blackclaw." she says and then smiles and looks at Mikilos, "Harnessing it has never been a problem." she says and holds up one of her grey skinned hands. The skin of the hand ripples and changes, becoming darker, leathery, and then scaly before its a black scaled claw. She turns it a bit and then it changes back to her normal hand, "That was how they knew what I was. One of the other...kids picked on me, cause I was different, and I got mad, my hands changed and I clawed him." she shakes her head a bit. "Learning to harness it can be a bit rough."
Mikilos nods with Aldean's words and to Myaris. "Not quite what I ment. you've started on the path, certainly, but will be time before you're sprouting wings and breathing fire..." He hesitates again, and peers at Myaris. "...or maybe frost? Physical manifestations seldom follow simple paths."
Orenthal ahhhhs at Aldean's explanation of the arcane, a bit of understanding dawning on him. "I think I see. Or at least I can say my ignorance has grown in magnitude." He laughs, then looks amazed at Myaris's demonstration. He glances at Mikilos, and then peers curiously at Myaris. Waiting to see what she starts breathing, perhaps.
Aya has arrived.
A group of people is sitting in a quiet Fernwood over varying stages of breakfast consumption, talking among themselves. Aldean picks up his tankard, and takes a pull from it, watching closely as that black-scaled claw forms. "Huh," is all he says, although he doesn't get particularly twitchy.
Myaris nods and smiles, "Ah yes, it will be sometime before I can get the wings." she shakes her head, "But no not fire or frost." she says and nods, "Acid." she does add after a moment. She looks at Orenthal, "I am not going to start spitting acid yet." she giggles just a bit. She runs a hand through her hair and shrugs a bit.
Aya descends the stairs from the upper level and steps across the pub floor to the keep. Most of the few here look to be taking a meal, and her intentions are no different.
Mikilos nods, not surprised. There's only so many options, after all. "Just be careful when you do start. I'm told unexpected acid drool can wreck havoc upon a favored shirt." He manages to keep a straight face saying that.
Orenthal looks relieved as Myaris announces she's not going to start exploding with danger just yet. Glancing away as he sips his juice, he spots Aya and offers a wave of greeting. "Good morning," he calls out, missing Mikilos's comment. Fortunately.
Baritone laughter from Aldean greets Mikilos' remark. "Thought she'd be able to control it, aye?" He scratches at his jawline, then sets the tankard down to take a bite of his breakfast.
Myaris giggles a bit at that and shakes her head a bit. She looks up and sees Aya. She freezes for just a moment, then looks down a little, she obviously isn't used to seeing others of her kind.
Aya acknowledges Orenthal's greetings with a dip of her chin, but anything more can wait until after she speaks to the keep. Until she notices the source of the giggling, that is. Her steps pause as she meets Myraris' gaze. One brow lifts slightly, but then the other mul'niessa has looked away; down.
Aya resumes her quest for breakfast, obtains cup of drink, plate of bread and cheese, and then carries them towards Orenthal. "Good morning."
Mikilos shrugs mildly, following the gaze and raising a hand in greeting to Aya before turning back. "If ever anything caused more havoc than unexpected magics, I don't know what it is." And he knows Jibbom.
Orenthal scoots his seat over as the table fills, and he smiles, "How are you today?" he asks Aya. He looks curiously between Aya and Myaris, and wonders, "Is there something I'm missing?"
Aldean's about to take another bite of his breakfast when the other mul drops in and Myaris abruptly clams up. "What's this now?" he asks of both of them, turning an easy smile on them both.
Myaris looks at Aya for a moment and then Orenthal and then shrugs. She looks back to Aya, "Hello." she says softly, a little wary, "I am Myaris Blackclaw." she offers. She takes a breath, "I haven't met any of our kind since I fled Charn." she shakes her head. "Seen some but not actually been where I can talk." she smiles a little, "Been over fifty years. Spent most of that time with the Sylvanori in the Vast that took me in."
Aya ahs softly and takes the seat made more available by Orenthal moving over and places her plate on the table. "I see." She takes a sip from her cup before setting it down, also. "That explains much."
Mikilos glances between the two ladies, and shrugs. "I'm not sure I follow, but I've never been in a similar situation."
Orenthal smiles all around, "Well, it's good that we're all meeting each other," he offers, then hesitates as he's not sure where to go with that. "We just saved some dwarves that'd been attacked by wolves," he says after a moment.
Raniq has arrived.
At the explanation, Aldean inclines his head, as if that explained something. "Be all kinds here, lass," he tells Myaris comfortably, setting down his spoon and picking up his tankard. "Seein' the mul'niessa here took me a bit o' gettin' used to, aye." When Orenthal speak, though, the topic seems to immediately draw his interest. "Doin' Guild work, then, are ye?"
Myaris looks at Mikilos, "In the village, well the surrounding villages....my people..well lets just say that the reputation my people...our people have...they live up to it." she nods, "So just not used to seeing others more like myself, or at least not like them." she looks at Aya and dips her head politely, "been in the city long?" she asks trying to be a bit friendly now.
Raniq pokes his head into pub, then walks in and tips his cap to the assembled crowd.
"Congratulations on your success," Aya offers Orenthal, lifting her cup for a mild salute before her sip. "The Guild is a profitable option for those with few others."
She then responds to Myaris with a return nod before shaking her head. "A fortnight, give or take a day."
Mikilos considers and waves vaugely. "A people is not a culture. A culture may deserve a reputation. A people is a series of individuals. Exceptions are to be expected."
Orenthal nods quickly to Aldean. "I am, yes. Just getting started, though. But it's good money, I'd say. Better than dragging wagons up and down the land! You do guild work also?" he wonders. He beams at Aya, laughing as he raises his own cup. "It could have gone badly, but we had a good priest."
Myaris nods, "Yes," she says and then looks to Aya, "Just got here last evening." she says and then nods to Mikilos but she doesn't add anymore just yet.
"Aye, that I do," Aldean leans back in his chair comfortably, tankard in hand. "Though less'n I did when I first came here," he admits. "Beats haulin' line ... or makin' them as sail work," he adds darkly. The group is sitting around a table, in varying stages of breakfast consumption. "Aye, a good priest can be the difference fer a Guild run."
Mikilos nods in agreement. "The right mix can turn a hard job easy, while the wrong one can make it all but impossible. Thankfully, the Guild is well versed in choseing well. Though if in a bind, always remember it's an option to seek assistance. I myself tend to keep to my own busniess these days, but still aid the Guild where I may." The wizard frowns, glancing at the light comming though the windows. "Speaking of which, I really should be getting back to my own place of busniess."
Aya dines casually, picking morsels here and there from her plate, and not enough that she can't partake in the conversation. "Indeed. So long as any foes you face aren't able to realize that, you'd do well. Otherwise a good priest might become a good target."
Orenthal nods to Aldean, and asks, "Are you a sailing man, then? I've wondered about the ships we send out, but I've never sailed, myself." He hrms at what Mikilos says, and offers, "It seemed more like we were choses based on being the first few standing around. But if they try to select a good mix of skills, that's fortunate." He bids Mikilos farewell as he departs. "It was good meeting you."
Mikilos nods, grabbing his haversack and standing. And then the elf, isn't there. No flash, no smoke, just, gone. Wizards.