((I tried remembering as much as I could of my first encounter with you guys. I hope it does it justice.))
In the distance, the sounds of friendly banter drifted out of the only open door this late at night. The paladin drew her cloak tighter about her shoulders, hoping to keep the dry wind from kicking sand into her clothes and supplies. She hesitated, remembering the muttering of those about the ship she stowed away on. It took a few deep breaths and words of encouragement, internally, to convince Erylyn that the unfamiliar tavern was a better venture than standing around all night. She repositioned her broadsword so it would be easier to draw, should the need arise.
Her first reaction upon entering is to turn around and run. The light from the hearth and the torches is much too bright for one who has spent many days hiding and traveling by night. She forces herself out of the doorway, for that is much too visible to any in the room. Stopping near an occupied table, she pulls the hood off of her head in an attempt to look like she belongs, yet refusing to take it off all together.
“And who might you be?” The voice stops her from her current sweep of the room, forcing her to focus on the group nearest her. Her first reaction is one of derision. Such a motley group of people occupying the same table must be some sort of business meeting. Never had she come across two blood elves and an orc, from obviously different walks of life, regarding each other so familiarly. She hesitates to answer, finding herself unwilling to reveal anything as valuable as her name.
The orc, obviously seeing her reluctance, fills the void left by her silence. “I am Scout Kagran.”
“I am known as Erylyn.” She ponders giving more of herself than that, but decides to keep it to herself. “Just Erylyn.”
The orc regards her coolly. “Oh, are we using titles?” The blood elf rogue speaks up, drawing her attention not only with his voice, but with his odd assortment of scars. Erylyn decides to keep her opinions and observations to herself; after all, she intruded on their gathering.
The orc shakes his head but is unable to persuade the elf to stop. “I am known as Keedriel the Dishonorable, Keedriel the Honorary Courier, and Keedriel the Slutty Little Schoolgirl.” Erylyn blinks a few times, wondering if the Elf is serious. By the expression on the orc’s face, he is.
“Anu belore dela’na, Scout Kagran, Lord Keedriel.” She would NEVER call one by the title of “schoolgirl”.
“Lord Keedriel?” The elf sounds affronted at the title. “That sounds like my father.” The orc snorts, seeing to find amusement in the elf’s disdain. The second blood elf at the table saunters off, referencing an errand that cannot wait. “Well, now there is a chair open, join us.” Erylyn hesitates, fearing the risk of being too friendly with those she doesn’t know.
Reluctantly she sits down, accepting a mug and relaxing into their friendly banter.
Erylyn chooses to stay quiet and observing, all the while feeling a kernel of something building deep within. Something she hasn’t felt in many years. The tiniest piece of happiness.
In the distance, the sounds of friendly banter drifted out of the only open door this late at night. The paladin drew her cloak tighter about her shoulders, hoping to keep the dry wind from kicking sand into her clothes and supplies. She hesitated, remembering the muttering of those about the ship she stowed away on. It took a few deep breaths and words of encouragement, internally, to convince Erylyn that the unfamiliar tavern was a better venture than standing around all night. She repositioned her broadsword so it would be easier to draw, should the need arise.
Her first reaction upon entering is to turn around and run. The light from the hearth and the torches is much too bright for one who has spent many days hiding and traveling by night. She forces herself out of the doorway, for that is much too visible to any in the room. Stopping near an occupied table, she pulls the hood off of her head in an attempt to look like she belongs, yet refusing to take it off all together.
“And who might you be?” The voice stops her from her current sweep of the room, forcing her to focus on the group nearest her. Her first reaction is one of derision. Such a motley group of people occupying the same table must be some sort of business meeting. Never had she come across two blood elves and an orc, from obviously different walks of life, regarding each other so familiarly. She hesitates to answer, finding herself unwilling to reveal anything as valuable as her name.
The orc, obviously seeing her reluctance, fills the void left by her silence. “I am Scout Kagran.”
“I am known as Erylyn.” She ponders giving more of herself than that, but decides to keep it to herself. “Just Erylyn.”
The orc regards her coolly. “Oh, are we using titles?” The blood elf rogue speaks up, drawing her attention not only with his voice, but with his odd assortment of scars. Erylyn decides to keep her opinions and observations to herself; after all, she intruded on their gathering.
The orc shakes his head but is unable to persuade the elf to stop. “I am known as Keedriel the Dishonorable, Keedriel the Honorary Courier, and Keedriel the Slutty Little Schoolgirl.” Erylyn blinks a few times, wondering if the Elf is serious. By the expression on the orc’s face, he is.
“Anu belore dela’na, Scout Kagran, Lord Keedriel.” She would NEVER call one by the title of “schoolgirl”.
“Lord Keedriel?” The elf sounds affronted at the title. “That sounds like my father.” The orc snorts, seeing to find amusement in the elf’s disdain. The second blood elf at the table saunters off, referencing an errand that cannot wait. “Well, now there is a chair open, join us.” Erylyn hesitates, fearing the risk of being too friendly with those she doesn’t know.
Reluctantly she sits down, accepting a mug and relaxing into their friendly banter.
Erylyn chooses to stay quiet and observing, all the while feeling a kernel of something building deep within. Something she hasn’t felt in many years. The tiniest piece of happiness.
