[Tavern Thread] The Dunn Wright Inn

=== Charity, Human Female ===

Charity looks at the painted elf, thinks a bit, looks a Boots, thinks some more, then leans back in her chair.
 

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Tyrien, Half-elven Archeress

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Tyrien glances over at the elven woman and pours another mug for her was well. She bought the keg to share and some spare mugs makes it inviting and welcome.

"Here, have a drink... ah, painted lady that knows Agno. Are you a part of some tribe that likes such things for ritual? I have heard that Venza welcomes all kinds. At least it doesn't turn them away... Well that's what I heard at any rate."

"I cannot say I have known many tengu, Ru. There is Agno... and there is... Agno. Yep all of one."

The half-elven archeress shrugs, "I am not sure if Agno is going to come in here or not. He did not squawk about it, but I was bored of shopping and was hoping he'd show... Or anyone else that I have met. We just got back from helping the Church of Helerion with a holy warrior named Larissa. I have not seen her either for a few days."

"I knew of another gruff person that was in the company of a cat-like creature with two tails, a mage named Anaerion, and a knight called Iosef. I have not seen any of them around neither."

"Maybe Agno is out practicing his archery? I have been trying to show him some tricks."

Tyrien pantomimes the drawing and firing of multiple arrows at high speed.
 

Ru cocks his head to one side as the painted elf walks over. Her tone sends a warning shiver down his back, so he holds back a moment before speaking.

"I imagine 'competent' is quite a compliment coming from you?" he offers gingerly, pulling back a bit on his natural tendencies toward quipping. "I'll definitely have to keep my eye out for this one, given he's fairly popular around these parts."

His reserve fades a bit as he turns his attention more towards Tyrien (though he does his best to keep one eye on the painted elf).

"I've no real skill with a bow, I'm afraid," he admits to the archer. "My training's been focused on getting up close, where I can find the soft spots." A roguish smirk falls on his expression as he adds, "Always something satisfying about sliding one's blade home, I always say."
 

"No, I-" the elf begins.

"Sylla wears the facepaint because it makes her look extra-mean," Boots explains, and then quails as the elf glares at him. Then he darts a look at the others. "See what I mean?" he whispers.

"The facepaint is my own. The other accoutrements are from my time with the Goti," she explains, and there is a hint of softness when she speaks of the tribesmen of the plains, but it vanishes rather quickly. "I'm an archer myself and hunted with them for a season. And while I understand speed of hands and wrist, there is an upper limit to what the body alone is capable of." She makes an arcane gesture and a hellish red flash briefly envelops her hand, and her fingers blur with speed. "I prefer to augment my abilities with magic."

To Ru she adds. "A fact, not a compliment."

"Yeah, Sylla doesn't do compliments. Trust me. Say, boss, you gonna drink that?" Boots says, eyeing the mug.
 


Ru gives Charity a bit of a smirk as he finds himself in the same situation the newcomer was in a few moments before. He takes a moment, his gaze quickly taking in both the painted elf and Boots. Deciding he'd much rather stay sober at present to best navigate what seems like it might be some dicey social interaction, he shrugs.

"It's a tasty beverage, and surely I appreciate the sharing, but I think you're right, Tyrien dear, and the halfling's have a lot stronger notions than I would have thought. I hate for it to go to waste, though, and he does seem a thirsty pup, doesn't he?" Ru says, pumping up the charm and hoping to head off any offense on the half-elf's part as he shares his drink with the eidolon.
 

Boots dives into the offered drink and takes several swallows before he realizes what he's drinking, at which point he takes a step back and messily sneezes mead over anyone not quick enough to get out of the way. "Whoa, uh ... so that's uh, really ... what's the word I'm looking for?"

"Piquant," Sylla says, smoothly placing the mug down on the counter.

"Yeah, pee-qwant. With extra pee,"
Boots says, rubbing his muzzle with a forepaw. "Yowch, that stings."

"You know, for someone who keeps telling me how good his sense of smell is, you might have seen that coming."


Boots looks moderately offended. "Boss, you know what it's like in here for me? I can smell every person who's been through here in the past season. And some of 'em linger on for two or three, like that jungle elf we saw in the market. He was sitting right here last summer. Rubbed himself all over the bar like he was moping or something, and they haven't done a proper cleaning since. With all that around, it's tough to notice the really awf... really pee-qwant drinks before you get into them."
 

Tyrien, Half-elven Archeress

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Tyrien looks inquisitive at Ru as he starts being careful with his words, like he is somewhat intimidated by the face paint. It doesn't bother the chatter-box half-elf though.

"I don't know if competent is a great compliment from anyone, but I have know my fair share of failures. Some days the arrows just do not hit the bull's-eye and then what. You get mauled by the critter as if gets in close."

"I have tried sneaking around, and I am not too bad at the skill. Maybe competent as Sylla would say. But with an illuminated orb encircling your head, it is not like you can actually sneak up on anything that is not blind already."

"So getting in close with a knife or blade is pretty dangerous work from what I have seen lately. So being competent might just be the same thing as getting out alive with your arse still attached."

"However, competent would not be the word I would use to describe my latest feats of archery. I turned a loud and arrogant dragonne into a pin cushion. Heh, the winged lion creature was pissed when they brought him back to life. He was not impressed at all and berated me with his bad breath over it. Though, he did not request a rematch."

"I am in fact an arcane archer and do not necessarily play by mundane rules myself with the bow. I can fire three arrows and have a fourth ready to fire before the first two hit their mark at thirty paces. Each one would be fired with deadly accuracy to find the weak spots,"
she states matter-of-factly, not bragging in her tone.

The half-elven lass takes a sip of the apple mead, not stopping her new drinking companions from helping themselves or sharing the with the wolf-like critter. After the exchange between the eidolon and his mistress, she chuckles.

Her fast speaking chattering quickly resumes, "Sure this stuff is tasty and makes the party fun. Some say orc pee is great too, though I never can stomach the stuff myself."

"Have as much as you like, we can order more. Boots, if you want a bowl or a dog dish to drink it easier and faster, I am sure Marla can scare one up for you. Ha ha ha. I don’t think Sylla can scare one with her painted face. Bowls are inert and don't scare, hee hee."
Tyrien's humor is not one of her strong points.

But, her expression's sobers, "Just what sort of magic do you do, Sylla? Are you able to conjure bowls and I need to eat my words?"
 

Ru has a hard time suppressing his grin as Boots finds the mead not at all to his liking. As Tyrien shares her own philosophies and accomplishments, Ru gives her a respectful nod.

"Yes, it would be more than helpful if I could see in the dark," he offers. "Sadly, I can't gain darkvision through osmosis. I've tried a few times. Enjoyable experiences, all," he says with a mischievous smirk, "but my eyes remain regrettably human.

Now, a dragon pincushion, you say? That does seem like quite the feat. I'll have to remember to keep out of your way when you've got your bow out."
 

=== Charity, Human Female ===
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"Don't worry, Ru, my eyes are probably no better," Charity chimes in, tapping her cheek just below the eye for emphasis. "We work with the gifts we have. The same goes for archery, for which I have little talent."
 

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