(121-01-19) A Night at the Quill & Tankard
A Night at the Quill & Tankard
Summary: Just a slice of life one summer night at the Quill & Tankard.
Date: 121-01-19


It's a summer night and outside it rains with the occasional booming of thunder. The Quill and Tankard is rather crowded because of the storm outside, and most of the tables are already occupied with all the seats taken… All except for one, which would appear to be dominated by Derrioth, who appears to be arguing with three men over the seats.

Few take much note when the the silver-haired wisp of a girl slips into the tavern. Vaelinor pauses just a few steps inside, her huge, violet eyes darting all over the interior. When another patron bumps into her on the way in, not expecting to find someone standing so close to the door, she tumbles to her knees. But rather than showing upset, she simply stares up at the person curiously.

The red witch slips in behind the Targaryen seeing the girl knocked over Isador says, "Watch your step churl!" to the offending individual. "Are you alright girl?" she asks Vaelinor.

A flash of lightning followed by the close and crackling sound of thunder accompany Anrio as he opens the door to the Quill and Tankard. He has a dark red, almost maroon colored cloak strapped to each shoulder of his breastplate, and a deep hood shielding his face and eyes from the rain outside, which drums down on the roof above, adding a low hum to the background noise of men and women drinking and cavorting about. He takes a moment at the doorway, his gaze slipping to the young woman bowled over, and to the other young woman helping her up, before he removes his hood and looks to the rest of the room. "Hot damn, this place is full." He murmurs to himself, resting a hand on his sword hilt idly as he ponders where to sit. Eyes fall upon Derrioth's seat.

Kai enters only a few moments after Anrio, cape and hair damp from the rain that drills down outside, he quickly loosens his cape, removing it from his person and hanging it over his arm, letting out a quiet grunt of annoyance as he notices that one, blood slowly drips from his wrist, and two, that a woman has been knocked over. He quickly scans the room for a few moments, a slight smile flashing across his face momentarily as he takes note of Derrioth, also taking the time to nod his head towards the familiar serving girls and bartender.

The black armored sellsword would still be trying to shoo off the men before noticing Anrio taking a interest in one of the seats, he'd look to the nearest man, "Hey, buzz off." he'd left his left hand to point to Anrio, "Seats been taken." The man who was arguing with Derrioth would look over to Anrio, and then back to Derrioth, sneering before walking off in a defeated manner, he'd look to Anrio giving him a nod before proceeding to go back to enjoying his drink.

Vaelinor's gaze shifts from the offender that bumped her — who seems entirely disinterested in meeting Isador's challenging words, perhaps having heard rumors of the witch — to Isador herself. She nods reassuringly. "I'm alright," she says, her voice soft and breathy. She lifts her hands up to Isador. But at the boom of thunder that accompanies Anrio's arrival, she whimpers and retracts her hands, covering her ears. But her eyes remain wide, wide open.

Isador looks at Anrio briefly somewhat startled by the lightning herself. That and the sight of yet another Dornish - they were multiplying it seems. She offers the startled girl a winsome smile. Still worried about the Targaryen and her welfare over and above anything in front of her. "Need a hand my Lady?" she asks politely.

Seeing the little exchange Derrioth exhibits, the red-cloaked Anrio laughs, and raises a hand to the sell-sword. He takes a step forward, his intent clear: Sit at that man's table and share a drink. On the way, however, he leans down to place a gloved hand gently on Vaelinor's shoulder. "It's only out there girly. Won't getchya in here, don't worry." His tone is softer as he speaks this, maybe a bit gentle, and if Vaelinor needs help getting up, like Isador offering, he too will aid her. He also nods to Isador, a broad grin forming upon his face when he recognizes a stony Dornish woman. But when that little interaction takes place, he smiles towards both Isador and Vaelinor and departs again, heading towards Derrioth.

"Clever sir! I'd like to buy you a drink. What'll ya have?" He states this in a loud, jovial tone as he pulls up a chair beside Derrioth.

Kai silently cuts through the room with a quick stride, gripping his right wrist as it slowly drips blood onto the floor below, he chooses to move quickly and quitely, rather than going out of his way to avoid…particular people, breathing quietly as he feels more of his wounds dripping blood under his clothing, which seems to have made him appear somewhat pale.

Derrioth looks up to Anrio with a grin, chuckling, "No need, no need." he says before lifting his tankard with his right hand, "I've already got a drink, you need not waste money on me." he says before taking a sip from his tankard, letting out a sigh. "I just noticed you wanted the seat is all." he says with a shrug, grinning friendlily.

When the rumbles of the thunder have passed, and the door is closed again, Vaelinor removes her hands from her ears. She nods to Isador and Anrio, extending her hands once again for aid in rising. Once on her feet, she plucks delicately at her dress, which is entirely too light for this kind of weather, especially lacking any kind of shawl or cloak. She watches Anrio go, then looks back to Isador, smiling. "I like your hair." She reaches up boldly to sink her fingers into the witch's fiery locks.

Kai makes his way up the staircase silently, as per usual, at this point practically leaking blood from all of his limbs, quite a strange sight as the blood drips down his pantleg and from his sleeves, but he is soon gone, heading to his room as he tops the staircase.

Taking that seat with a shrug, Anrio looks around for a serving woman or someone who will take orders for a drink. "Well! I assume you'll be having more than one then. Next one's on me. The seat is much appreciated!" Assuming there is someone for him to order from, he will do so. If not, he ducks away briefly to grab something from the bar before returning. "To whom do I have the pleasure of thanking for a seat, hmm?" He asks the sellsword, before his gaze slips back across the room. First to the two young women, watching for a moment, before moving to Kai, and the blood spattering upon the floor. An eyebrow raises, but he makes no move to follow the man.

"My names Derrioth," The sellsword says, "And to whom may I have the honor of sharing a drink with?" Derrioth asks, raising his right brows, bringing his tankard up to his mouth to take a sip, grunting afterwards as he sets it back down afterwards, bringing his right hand to his left shoulder as he begins cirulating his left arm around, "Man, I'm still hurt from that fight."

Isador blushes, "Flamekissed I believe my wildling brothers called me. I like your hair too my Lady - it is very Targaryeny," Isador says. "Care to join me for a repast?" She looks around for a table.

"Anrio." No ser, no last name, no indication of who he is other than a man with a sword at his hip and a drink in his hand. He raises the tankard he's recently procured towards Derrioth, before he takes a big, long swig of it. Licking his lips, he puts the tankard down on the table without much thought if some ale spills out. "Been in a fight?" He asks the sellsword curiously.

Currently, due to the weather, the Quill and Tankard is packed. There is a single clear table left with four or five seats at it, and it is the one Anrio and Derrioth are seated at. Their manners and looks have kept others away, for the most part.

Vaelinor's smile lights up at Isador's words. "I'm a Targaryen," she says, as if this was some surprising news that the woman hadn't already guessed. She doesn't answer Isador's question, but moves uncomfortable close to her, and waits, ready to join her wherever she might choose.

Derrioth would take a sip, putting down the tankard with a yep, "Yeah, with a fella named Kai… Reason's a bit personal so I'd rather not go too much into it." he says, looking around before noticing Isador, He'd lightly frown, staring for a second or two before shifting his gaze elsewhere before looking back to Anrio, "How 'bout you? Anything interesting happen for you lately?"

Speaking of Targaryeny-looks, Bryn comes in, leading Garvin into the tavern, and then looks back up to him, not really even looking around yet but instead saying to the noble, "Here it is, Lord Garvin. This is the Quill and Tnkard."

Isador says to the Targaryen, "I am Isador - pleasure to make your acquaintance my lady," Isador wraps an arm around the slight girl protectively thinking her likely to be cold. Though it is awkward she approaches Derrioth, "Mind if we join you?"

Garvin walks into the tavern with the sort of brashness that comes naturally to the high born, sweeping off his wide-brimmed hat and giving it a few shakes. "Rain may make for a bountiful garden, but it is not kind to finery," he complains to the young boy who enters with him, giving Bryn a sad sort of nod. He draws back his shoulders and lifts his chin, as his gaze travels about the common room. "So this is the famed Quill and Tankard, is it? Well, let us see if we can't find a clear place for ourselves, shall we? The road has left me so hungry, I could eat one of your fire-lizards…assuming it was well prepared. But first, we must have some wine to chase the chill from our bones."

Derrioth looks up to Derrioth, staring at is tankard for a second or two before nodding, "Go ahead." he says in a low tone, is happy mood declining to a more distant one rather faster as he leans his head back, taking a large gulp from his tankard before setting the tankard back down, his grin coming back afterwards, "Man it /had/ to storm outside the day I wanted a drink." he says, chuckling lightly afterwards.

Kai makes his way back down the stairs after taking a few minutes to clean himself up, he gazes towards Isador, and then Derrioth, quickly choosing not to join them more so for Derrioth's sake than his own, he slowly strolls over to where the bartender stands, speaking quietly with the man, and ordering himself a drink or two.

"Well…" Anrio replies as he takes another good sized swig. "I just arrived with some family a few days ago." He's quiet for a moment, watching the tavern around him. "Other than bein' in a new land, nothing. But that's something, isn't it?" He doesn't remark upon the fight or anything like that anymore to the sell sword next to him, but his gaze does look to Isador, then to Darrioth, silent, observing.

Vaelinor gives Isador a friendly smile at the introduction, but doesn't introduce herself in return. Nevertheless, she makes no objection to the arm around her, and even leans into Isador, pressing her cheek into that flaming red hair.

Derrioth grins to Anrio, "Guess you arrived a day or so late, a Dorne princess is here." he says with a chuckle, "Ashara Martell I believe." he says, bringing his right hand from holding his tankard to run along his chin with a yawn before reaching over and taking another sip.

Now, Bryn finally takes a look around the room. His attention is caught by Vaelinor, but then Garvin is mentioning food and wine and he blinks, looking back to him, and says, "Wine warms you up? Usually I just sit by a fire."

"Oh! Ya don't say." Anrio replies at Derrioth's statement, an amusing smirk coming to his face. "A real live Dornish Princess, here?" He drains the rest of his tankard, putting on the table. "What do you make of her mate? You get to see her in person?"

Garvin chuckles softly, his eyes lighting. "A fire warms your bark, but a good wine will warm the sap within. Among other pleasant effects. Hmm, I don't see an empty table, do you? Seems the whole city is sheltering here from the rain. Do you see anyone you know, perhaps someone willing to share their board with us?" He draws off his water-soaked silk cloak, giving it a small shake before draping it over his forearm.

Isador sits with the slight girl next to her. "I met the Dornish princess," she says, "This lady here however is a real live Targaryen," she says smiling at the small girl whose name she has yet to ascertain. Her prescience probably allowing her to ascertain the truth of this matter.

Vaelinor lowers into the chair beside Isador, and smiles warmly to everyone at the table, as if greeting old friends. Her gaze wanders a bit, eventually finding a young boy with coloring so similar to her own. She beams a bright smile, and lifts her arm to wave excitedly to Bryn.

Kai grasps a mug of mead as it is handed to him by the bartender, and quickly downs it, he slowly turns his gaze over to the pale-skinned girl that Isador 'introduces', and then looks over to Bryn, he lets out a quiet sigh and goes back to talking shit with the bartender.

Bryn smiles back and waves to Vaelinor in response. Then he looks back to Garvin yet again and points to Derrioth and Isador, "I know them. Sort of. Met them both a couple times."

Garvin brightens again, waving his free hand in that direction. "I would be most pleased to have you introduce me to your acquaintances," he says, eyes scoping Vaelinor, Isador, and Derrioth as he waits to be guided to their table. Though his gaze lingers for a bit on the sellsword, they move quickly enough to Vaelinor. "I say, a distant relation of yours, young Bryn?"

Derrioth chuckles nodding, "Yeah, real live princess." he confirms, "I saw her in person, yeah… Well I didn't personally talk to her so I can't say much, but from what I saw she's quite the nice lady." he says, before finishing off the last of his cider and setting down the empty tankard with a satisfied sigh.

"Yes she is especially kind to children," Isador adds - following Vaelinor's eyes to Bryn and raising a crimson brow. "A relation of yours my lady?" she asks Vaelinor.

Pleased with Bryn's reciprocation, she looks back to her tablemates, but frequently glances back to the boy. "I think so," she says to Isador. "I'm Vaelinor," she suddenly blurts out to the table. "I live with my cousin, Thessa Redwyne. She has a garden."

A nod comes from Anrio towards Isador first, and then Vaelinor. The latter holds his attention a bit as Isador mentions her being a real live Targaryen. When Derrioth speaks, he regards the man with some thought, before he nods again, ordering another tankard of ale. And when Garvin approaches, he takes in both Bryn and Garvin, before a new Tankard is placed in front of him. None too soon. He raises it in greeting, and grins broadly. "Greetings Lord Tyrell. I am Prince Anrio Nymeros Martell, last of my father's line and quite distant cousin to our beloved Princess. It is a pleasure to be here in your lands, after so much bloodshed between our kin." He gives Derrioth a sideglance, and a wink, before his attention returns to Garvin.

Kai stands from his seat calmly, and digs a hand into his sleeve, fiddling with something within for a moment before retracting his hand and strolling over to the table where Isador and Derrioth sit, leaving his mug of mead behind, he smiles slightly as he nods towards the various men and women about the table, "Greetings." he says with his strange accent, which is something of a mix between multiple Essos accents, "May I sit?" he asks, looking towards Derrioth with his usual pokerface.

Derrioth raises his right brow, turning his head to look over to Garvin before a familiar voice catches his attention. He'd immediately frown, his expression souring as he looks over, "Yeah… Sure." he'd say, seemingly with a bit of contempt, staring at him silently with a cold expression before looking back over to Bryn, "Hello, Master Bryn." he'd say nodding to Bryn before shifting his expression to Garvin, "My lord." he says, giving him a nod as well. He looks back to Anrio with a friendly grin, "Well well well, my prince." he says with a light chuckle "Looks like I've met two people of Royalty from Dorne now, hm?" he says, quietly laughing afterwards.

Kai disappoint.

Bryn nods quickly to Garvin, leading him over towards the table, and says, "This is Derrioth, and Isador." To those at the table he introduces, "This is Lord Garvin Tyrell." He answers Derrioth with a smile, "Hello." Then, to the others he doesn't know, he adds, "I'm Bryndon Flowers."

"A pleasure to meet you Lady Vaelinor - Your cousin did not furnish you with any guards?" Isador asks suddenly worried. "It appears we are surfiet of Royalty," the red witch says politely rising and curtseying to the Prince the Lord and the Targaryen. "And me being a humble girl of wildling stock. How did I get so lucky…" she says smiling congenially. When Kai approaches she flinches slightly looking at Derrioth and Kai and measuring their reactions.

Garvin's expression brightens again when Anrio addresses him, and he gives the man an appraising look. "Well met, Prince Anrio!" he says with no small note of excitement in his voice. "I had not thought to meet such a handsome Dornishman on my first night in the city." He gives Derrioth another looking over, adding a small nod. "I am Garvin Tyrell, as my good friend Bryndon has said, recently transplanted from Highgarden. Lady Vaelinor, it is a pleasure to meet you as well." Smiling pleasantly (or perhaps foolishly), he gives Isador and Kai a quick once over as well, though he quirks a brow curiously at the air of tension that appears to rise between Kai and Derrioth.

Kai strolls around the table slowly, pulling a seat out and taking a seat by Isador, he looks past the red witch, towards the Targaryen girl with his usual slight smile, "You mentioned a garden earlier, do you keep any exotic flowers?"

Another bow of his head, and Anrio takes another good sized swig of ale. "You are unlikely to meet many more, I suppose, so whatever physical appeal I have acquired- to which, I assure you, our dear Shara has gained the bulk of- will have to suffice for the men of Dorne." His jovial nature has given way to something a bit more thoughtful. He goes silent after that, observing those around him, nodding in return to Derrioth, his joke and ruse of being unaware about Ashara's arrival up.

Vaelinor tilts her head curiously at Bryn, her big bright eyes just swallowing him up. "Flowers is a pretty name." She shrugs to Isador, shifting slightly in her chair. "She's sleeping. She doesn't have guards at her house." By the time Garvin introduces himself, the discomfort is evidence on her face. But she nods to him, speaking quickly in a flat tone and without pause: "My mother was a Tyrell Leyra Tyrell and my cousin was a Tyrell Thessa Tyrell but she's Thessa Redwyne because she married a man with that name." Her gaze shifts from face to face as she shrinks back into her chair, her hands slowly rising once again to her ears.

Derrioth lets out a quiet sigh as he leans forwards leaning upon the table with his fore arms, raising his right hand up to order another cider. He'd stare at his empty mug, frowning lightly as he seemingly grits his teeth. As he stares at the mug he'd otake a glare to Kai, then Isador, before staring back down to his tankard silently, before raising his head and asking generally to the whole table, "Any upcoming jousts any of you know of?".

"A pleasure to meet you all," Isador does the blanket introduction thing to Lord Gavin and company. As for Vaelinor, "Hmm a strage arrangement for a lady of her standing or yours to not have any guards. Nevermind…" says Isador, "I shall be your guard for the night." Looking to another table she says, "Perhaps we can make some room for ourselves and our guests?" She contemplates a little glamor to scare off some other patrons. Witches and their tricks.

Kai leans back in his chair slowly as the Targaryen is apparently overwhelmed by the amount of talking going on, and chooses instead to lean in towards Isador with his blank pokerface, speaking quietly as he whispers to her.

Bryn blinks as Vaelinor says Flowers is a pretty name. "Never thought about that." He shrugs a little to himself, after thinking about it a moment, looking around to the others. His curious gaze returns to the Targaryen, however, as she pulls back and puts her hands to her ears. "Are you alright?"

Garvin is jostled as a serving girl moves behind him, but when he turns toward her, there's no anger in his expression at the apparent slight. Instead, he gives her a brilliant smile and booms, "Ah, my good woman! A tankard of your finest mulled and cups enough for all. I daresay, Bryn here is as chilled as I am, and we could all use something to warm us from within." He turns away from her again, frowning as he looks around the crowd. "What, no music tonight? Had I known, I'd have brought my harp, save it's packed away at the bottom of some trunk or other." His eyes fall upon Derrioth again. "Do you joust? Well, of course you do, just look at you. I suppose you've won dozens of tourneys, and all the fair maidens swoon and sigh at the sight of you in your finest armor."

The Dornishman at the table raises an eyebrow towards Vaelinor, but Derrioth's question pulls Anrio's attention, and he wrinkles his nose. "Joust. Phaw." An interesting opinion for a Knight. He leaves it at that though, taking another sip of ale. Garvin's interactions with the serving girl are noted, but for now, he seems quite content in letting those of the area interact around him, with customs and sayings that are perhaps a little alien to him.

Derrioth chuckles quietly, speaking in a quiet tone, but still audible to everybody, seemingly in reaction to the Vaelinor cupping her hand over her ears, "I don't joust much these days, but I used to before I arrived here in Old Town. Not many woman swooned, nor did they sigh really, and I had just got this armor today in truth, it finally arrived after Lady Brax put the order in for it." he admits, chuckling quietly again, "I simply want to get back into it for a while, and I don't know many people who are willing to spar or duel me… I guess I just…" he'd pause, frowning slightly as he stares back down to his tankard, "I guess I just want to burn of steam is all.".

Isador looks concerned at the behaviour of the savant girl, "Are you alright Lady Vaelinor?" she asks maintaining her decorum. "Been a while since I have wielded a blade," Isador says, "Think you'd be up to taking on a wildling?" She asks Derrioth.

Vaelinor may not be quite hearing what Isador and Bryn are saying to her, but she seems to understand that they are addressing her, as she glances back and forth between them. The distress on her face is finally given voice when she stage-whispers, "Too loud."

At the request for more sparring, a glance goes to Kai from Anrio, but the man in the maroon colored cloak doesn't seem to be inclined to offer his services to Derrioth. He instead drains the tankard in front of him. That's tankard number two. His eyes switch from Kai to Vaelinor curiously, but he remains quiet.

Derrioth shrugs with a grin, speaking quietly again, "I've taken on wildlings in the past, and not to brag in any way but I didn't find it that much of a challenge." he says, as a barmaid would soon after set down another tankard full of Cider down in front of him, Derrioth turns his head and smiles warmly giving her a nod before reaching over and taking a sip of the cider before setting it back down. "In truth I like to fight people I apparently wont be able to beat." he says, almost as if hinting to something, perhaps someone.

Garvin gives his head a quick shake, his long curls flying. "I've never been one for tilting, though the Seven know my lord father tried his best to mold me, as he did my brother Matrim. Nay, heavy, clanking plate and snorting destriers stamping their great hooves never suited me well. Ah, but I had a water dancer Braavos who taught me a more graceful way to wield a blade." His left hand pats the thin rapier at his side, and as his flagon and cups arrive, his eyes light once more. "At last!" Grabbing a cup, he tilts it back and drains it whole, then lets out a satisfied sigh. Giving Bryn a wicked sort of grin, adding, "Stand on no ceremony with me, young Flowers. Pour a cup and drink your fill. The same goes for you all. When Lord Garvin drinks, everyone drinks!"

Isador says to Derrioth, "Who says you'd be able to beat me?" rather churlishly. Isador complies with Garvin's drinking tradition but still looks with concern upon the frail young Targaryen.

Kai smiles calmly as he listens to Derrioth speak, almost unable to contain his desire to jump up and draw his blade, but he calmly looks over towards a familiar serving girl, whom had been silently watching him whisper into Isador's ear with a murderous look on her face, he gestures her over, "Mead, please." he says simply, this apparently being enough to send the girl stumbling off to fetch him a drink, he looks back over to Derrioth afterwards, "Indeed, I imagine wildling women are far scarier than the men." he says, mostly jokingly.

Derrioth shrugs, frowning slightly as he looks off to the right, "Perhaps the many before you whom challenged me? Besides I'm not really comfortable dueling someone who works with magic." he admits, taking hold of his tankard and leaning his head back, downing the entirety of the rest of his cider, letting out a sigh afterwards, he'd look to Isador, raising his right brow as he asks her, "So what happened to the Arakh?".

Vaelinor slowly lowers her hands from her ears. There is still plenty of din in the tavern, but the volume in her immediate area has subsided a bit. Still, her brightness has diminished, and she wears a meek expression. She leans over toward Isador, resting her head on the wildling woman's shoulder, half burying her face in her hair.

Bryn shakes his head to Garvin, "I can't… gotta go. Have chores to do. Bye." He waves and turns to hurry out.

A grumpy looking man with a trim, gray beard and a rain-soaked, green cloak enters the tavern and begins elbowing his way toward the table. Garvin is just finishing his second cup of wine when he catches sight of the old warrior, letting out a long-suffering sigh. "Alack, my friends! The Leash has found me, and now I shall be dragged to the safety of my kennel." Taking a small pouch from his belt, he tosses it onto the table. "Have a drink to my lonely sorrow, my good friends, and pray I am able to slip my Leash again soon." By the time his little speech is ended, the Leash is at his elbow, gently but firmly pulling him toward the door with a few grouchy mutterings, and all Garvin can do is give a dramatic wave of his over-sized hat as he goes.

Kai leans back in his chair slowly as the serving girl returns with his mead, as she leans past him he leans towards her, whispering into her ear softly, whatever he says, she seems to like it, a smile gracing the raven-haired girls features before she hurries off once more. Kai grasps his mead again, and looks over to Derrioth, "I don't imagine a jousting match with you involved would be much fair, your skills remind me much of the Dothraki." he says with a smile, drinking down a mouthful or two of his mead.

Derrioth would silently stare off from the right before turning his head to stare at Kai, raising his right brow, "That's because they are the skills of the Dothraki." he says with a evident frown, staring silently as he raises his right hand hailing over a barmaid, he'd lean his head over towards her,ordering a mead before going back to leaning forwards upon the table, staring coldly at Kai before look down to his tankard silently.

Isador wraps an arm around the slip of a Targaryen girl and strokes her hair - apparently not too disturbed by the savants inappropriateness. "We are being abandoned en masse it appears."

Vaelinor nods, a rather exaggerated movement…which might be just to feel Isador's hair against her face. Her inappropriateness goes so far as to seek Isador's hand to clutch in her own and closely examine.

Kai chuckles quietly and then slowly slides his chair backwards, moving to stand, "Let's go and have a 'friendly' sparring match." he says with a smile, looking towards Derrioth, a hand gesturing over towards the door.

Derrioth raises his gaze to stare at him for a second or two, sighing as he rises to his feet, sliding his chair back with his right foot. He'd reach over his back with his left hand taking hold of his shield which he'd grab onto and prepare, "Right. Sure." he says in a cold manner, reaching back with his right hand to grab onto his hood and bring it over his head.

"I hope you plan on keeping it friendly…" Isador's voice contains an authorotative warning - unusual for the witch who is more often than not lackadaisical. For her part she lets Vaelinor continue rubbing her face in her hair. If she picks the right hand to examine she would find a bracelet made of black brambles around the wrist dug almost painfully deep into the alabaster flesh.

Vaelinor lifts Isador wrist up to take note of the brambles. She pokes a finger at one of the sharper bits. "Ouch." She lifts her head to look Isador in the eye, frowning. "It hurts. You shouldn't wear it."

Kai chuckles quietly at Isador and Vaelinor, and turns his back on them "You can even watch if you want, so friendly shall it be." he begins strolling towards the door with a wide grin, as if he were a child about to play with a toy.

Derrioth glares over to Isador, "I'll try not to kill him." he says before turning and walking over towards the door, "That's as friendly as I'll be." he adds as he begins his walk, his frown growing, his expression becoming more serious.

Isador turns to Vaelinor and whispers something to her. "Would you like to see a fight my Lady?" she asks. Her own expression is worried after Derrioth's assertion.

Vaelinor looks from Isador to the two men, then back to the red-haired woman. She shakes her head. "No." She looks down to the bracelet with mild interest, watching it as if expecting something to happen.

Isador departs confident the men are past their earlier stupidity to deliver the vulnerable young girl to her home.

The two men exit the building, heading off into a dark alleyway, as they walk off they appear to be like opposites, one has a murderous look in his eyes, and the other an almost child-like look, and given the latter's appearance, it would be difficult to tell that the two men were prepared to fight to the death.

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