Post by Emma on Apr 19, 2011 20:23:24 GMT -5
In my experience, human taverns were those rare places that were to be avoided at all costs. Better to spend the night in an animal pen than on a filthy bed that stank of mildew, stale sweat, and desperation, where even the fleas had fleas. I considered it good advice to never sit anywhere, buy anything, or so much as touch anything, ever. With these well-founded criticisms of human public houses, I entered The Golden Perch with more than some degree of caution, expecting an even distribution of vomit, brawling, and unconscious drunkards littering the floor. I was therefore quite surprised at the not unwelcome sight of a clean, rustic little establishment that was quiet and well-lit. The design of the interior rather reminded me of the villages surrounding Carvala in the Valley of the Crown, near where I’d been raised.
Waitresses sailed by, arms laden with jugs and plates. The inn was maybe half-filled, and the occupants only raised their voices to call the barmaid. Indeed, the loudest noises were the soft pad of feet on stone, the susurrus of conversation, and the delicate slurping and munching of the patrons. Many of said patrons looked up upon our arrival, scrutinized us, and nodded with approval before returning to their tall tots of rum and liqueurs, their tobacco pipes, their cards and dominoes and unlawful scheming. So we passed the test. Though I doubted I would ever get over my natural aversion to the simplicity of human culture, I admitted The Golden Perch would not be too terrible a place to stay. It was certainly worth our fascinating adventure regarding a stolen book, those that had purloined it, and the treasure it would lead us to.
“Welcome to The Golden Perch, esteemed guests. I am Elberiy, the owner of this fine establishment. How long, may I ask, will you be staying with us?”
“As long as it takes.”
The human was a stout, potbellied little thing, so average that he’d escaped my notice entirely. Even after his merry meeting, it was only the sneering voice that led me to turn around, and properly size up his sweating, nervous, and now very incensed exterior.
“We are in Teirm in search of an artefact for my father, Waylon, Lord of House Egladhrim, and we will be staying here until we find it.”
“And-”
“We’ll take your two best rooms. Have my and my cousin’s bags delivered to one, and put those of my servants’ in the other.”
The innkeeper, despite rather badly hiding how insulted he was, did not hesitate at her orders. “Of course, my ladies.”
Lantana of House Egladhrim had so far proved to be markedly similar to Rohiriel the librarian. Both were aloof, irascible women armed with a barbed tongue that cut deeper than any knife- and so very jumpy. I recalled two nights past when we’d set up camp, and I’d been keeping watch. Upon hearing a noise, I’d approached her in her sleep to shake her awake- and could have sworn that first moment when she opened her eyes, there had been something there- something completely beyond her irritable exterior, some sort of caged inner beast. But then it was gone, and she was quickly repossessed by that cranky disposition that struck quite viciously against the lone, frightened, and rather inept thief that had stumbled upon our camp.
The woman proved to be most entertaining- almost as much as Vaoris and his bumbling. Despite my most valiant attempts to prod Rohiriel into saying anything remotely revealing- as well as simply to test just how far I could push her until her temper snapped- she was very adamant in never revealing a single detail about herself. She was wryly disinterested in conversation, highly businesslike, and rather intolerant of my constant prodding. I had long ago realized that I didn’t care about who she was or where she was from. It was simply amusing to pull at the tomcat’s tail until it showed its claws. Now she utilized her constant displeasure to great extent, turning up her nose at the commoner even as he turned his back and hurried off to order about his waitresses.
The enchanted armour of the Karzin Bandits. It did indeed sound like a fable, and though I had never even heard of Draidin Longfellow before I’d been asked to come along, I could guess what his book was like. Fanciful descriptions of buried treasure, the loveable rogues who’d hid them, their daring tales of escapades- in short, the novel had to be a little more than a pile of manure. Yet another reason I preferred to attain information on my own rather than read about it. However, it was more than worth getting out of Ilirea’s dreary scholarly atmosphere. Though I hadn’t seen or heard of the thief, I’d been contacted by an ancient Rider known as Hendalacon and his dragon Aldanion to accompany a trio on this quest of dire importance. Under the guise of a lady-in-waiting named Corchiel, I would serve as their personal protector.
However, I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to protect Vaoris and Rohiriel from the occasional bandit along the road, or from Myaja Kolbjorn. Though she’d stopped attacking all her guards like when she’d first been brought to Ilirea, she was to be kept under watch at all times- especially on a mission that revolved around armour that made the wearer invincible. Drawing power from the sun and the stars- I would certainly have to look into that. As for Kolbjorn, the ruthless, infamous, totally-without-mercy General was actually much sneakier than she looked. Apparently, she and a guard had been listening in when the theft had first occurred, and immediately afterwards had burst into the library, requesting to join the mission. After a heated debate, she’d been allowed to come- under the condition that she be watched by me. And so began our misadventure.
Myaja had been given the guise of Tinuthêl, Lady Lantana’s cousin. The two elves were startlingly alike in demeanour and colouring that their physical differences could certainly be overlooked. Both had ash-blonde hair, ice-blue eyes- Rohiriel especially, with those seemingly blind orbs- and ivory skin. Both had wary gazes and serpentine tongues, and were possessed of remarkably low tolerance for stupidity or deviation of any kind. Their chief differences were physical- Rohiriel was taller, more slender, while Myaja clocked in at a more average height and was curvier, and more muscular. And though Rohiriel was her equal in imperious mannerisms, that regal, elegant bearing and being no stranger to giving the cold shoulder, Myaja had a particularly severe presence that showed her obvious comfort in commanding respect.
Despite being a reputed force on the battlefield, and though the highly combative General did legitimately belong to nobility- the Kolbjorn line being among the oldest of Du Weldenvarden- she was not aristocratic material. During our time together on the journey, she rarely spoke, suggesting what I now realized was social inexperience and awkwardness. She’d remarked that she’d had a sheltered childhood, one where her father had brusquely trained her day and night in the art of war. As soon as she’d been released from Ilirea, she had enlisted in the military, and spent her entire life there since- which meant little social interaction apart from screaming orders. This was only justified by that when she did speak, it was chastisement or even the rare burst of fiery violence she’d often utilized on her hapless guards in Ilirea.
Almost as soon as the proprietor had fled, one of the waitresses fluttered up to us.
“Would y’all like a table?”
“Yes,” answered Rohiriel in her straightforward manner. “One near the hearth.”
I supposed the woman was attractive by human standards. She seemed to think so herself, because as soon as she nodded respectfully at Rohiriel and Myaja, her eyes were drawn to Vaoris. Lashes across her large eyes and tossing her head, she swayed her hips and walked in an obviously provocative fashion. I saw Rohiriel bite her lip, doubtlessly thinking the same as I was. I turned my head to see an utterly blank expression on the male scholar’s face, suggesting he was miffed. He’d given me a very similar look when, during casual conversation, I’d mentioned that my last name was Venali. Upon questioning me about it, his face had then become something comparable to a deer staring into headlights when I confirmed that I was indeed the niece of Veela and Rusalka Venali.
It was a simple matter to confuse and frighten Vaoris. The boy was an oddity as all elves went- with his tiny, thin body, huge eyes and timid temperament, he reminded me far more of a lost little puppy than the elegant, savage, fearsome creatures that inhabited Du Weldenvarden. Despite his shy nature, however, he proved to be quite the conversationalist- at least when compared to the standoffish Rohiriel and haughty Myaja. Any barriers were especially broken when the topic of choice turned to books. From how his voice rose in volume and he spoke with his hands upon warming to the subject, I was convinced he’d read every spiel in Ilirea cover to cover upside down and backwards- twice. I never understood how one could take comfort or enjoyment in a book- a fact that I’d brought up quite loudly, much to Vaoris’s chagrin.
The lost little puppy, as it was, could become a hungry wolf if the proper buttons were pressed. Vaoris had rebuked my anti-book philosophy quite soundly, even stumping Myaja and Rohiriel with his passion. The experience had left me pleased. He did have a spine- he just, for whatever reason, chose not to use it. And it wasn’t the only time he’d surprised me, either. Naturally, his obviously frightened reaction at my relation to the Countesses required investigation- perhaps I could have discovered something to upset him even further. However, shortly after my telling him, his face had then changed to something approaching realization- and then understanding. He’d nodded, thanked me for my openness, quietly excused himself, and fallen back to ride a little ways behind me for the rest of that day, leaving me perplexed.
We followed the waitress to a table by one of the two cheerily crackling fireplaces in the room. Rohiriel, as our undisputed leader, was the first to choose a seat. She took one that made an excellent vantage point that faced the rest of the room, and straightened her blue silk cloak as she sat. I took one opposite her, deciding not to remove my travel wear. I was dressed in a thick, form-fitting cloak that reached the floor, with large sleeves. I was all in black save for a silver necklace hanging around my throat, set with onyx that stored reserves of energy within. My hood was pulled very far up on my head, so that only my mouth and chin were not hidden in shadow. I turned the edge of my lips up into a smile as Vaoris and Myaja joined us. They had been painted black with pigments, and were a stark contrast against my ivory skin.
I eyed them from beneath my hood. Noendîr, herald of House Egladhrim. Lantana, heiress of its estates. Tinuthêl, her cousin. Corchiel, lady-in-waiting. An enigmatic group to be sure.
“And what shall we do now, hmm? The city beckons.”
What we did then was turn our heads as a very tall, very thin woman with a face like a hawk and eyes like needles came stomping towards us. In one hand was a rolling pin that she held like a spear, and underneath her other arm was a sausage-shaped dog that snarled quite voraciously as she swept towards us. Upon her appearance, the customers raised a loud greeting in unison. Despite the noisiness, there was something like wariness in their jovial voices- apart from which, from the looks on their faces, they feared the woman more than they actually respected her. She came to a halt directly at our table, hefting her deceptively ridiculous-looking dog. Tucking a strand of jet-black hair behind an ear, she fixed us with her predatory stare.
“Cor, you’re a rich lot. From Hightower, I take it? You’ll be getting the ‘nice’ treatment, then. Name’s Boann, wife of that pig Elberiy. What’ll you take?”
“Red wine,” I said smoothly. “And leave the bottle here.”
“Beer,” said Myaja from behind her black veil. “But only good microbrews, none of that mass-produced swill.”
“Ooh, touchy sort. And you two?”
Characters Used;; Laioni with Myaja Kolbjorn
Words;; 2090
Muse;; -eye twitch-
Thoughts;; ... it is shameful. ANYWHO, I'm sorry with messing around with Rohiriel's dialogue a bit, I just changed it to suit the fact that we have TWO noblewomen now. XD