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Eleforian Elite Guard
Francesca beamed at the elf's compliment to her husband's playing. Even as she moved to prop her into a reclined position with a few extra pillows, and a strength that it seemed a bit surprising for the woman to have. "Thankee, lady Een." She held the tankard of cider directly to her lips now, confident that the elf was warm enough for that much. "Careful now, not too much at once." She continued to chatter. "We don't get many travelers up this way, truly. We haven't seen a real bard in... well I don't recall if we've ever had a bard around here. Luis plays for us, when we gather. Tim can play on that little flute of his, and anybody can sing. Not that we're the best, but it's good for a party." She was grinning away.

An interruption came thought, in the form of a knock on the door, and then a sandy blond head poked in. "Ma? You need anything else?" The young man had steady brown eyes same as the shorter woman that sat by Een's bedside.

"Carson! We'll probably need more cider and... some food perhaps? Maybe you could thin the stew a little so that it won't be so thick? A bowl of that. It'll go down more like broth but lose none of the nutrients." The last bit was directed back at the elf she was caring for. "And another heated brick, Carson! We need to make sure that her feet warm up proper!" The young man nodded his head as he ducked back out.


Caleb nodded cheerily at the man, "No worries, sir. We're rough out here, but we're honest." He began to whistle as he rubbed down the horses, dumping oats into buckets for them and a carefully measured out bit of water. He made sure each of the horses were fed, watered, and rubbed down, and then covered each of them with a woolen blanket to help ward off the cold.


Brandon led the young man relatively swiftly back to the Inn that was the only common gathering place in town. His blond hair whipped around in the wind a bit as he pulled the door open and ushered the squire in before stepping inside himself. "Oi! Zach! There's work for you!" His bright green eyes were focused on the table of gamblers. He winked down at the boy.

The man who responded was a veritable giant. His eyes were a bright blue, his flaxen hair hanging loose around his shoulders, and, like most the other men, a full beard framing his face. His voice seemed to boom. "I ain't firing up my forge agin tonight, Brandon, ye gurt fool. You know that."

Leaning down a little, he muttered conspiratorially to the boy. "See what I mean? He's a right grump! Go on then, I'm assuming that's your group." He nudged the boy over towards the group of strangers, his eyes blatantly curious. But his movements took him towards the gamblers, the large blond man hadn't even looked up. "You'll enjoy it come morning, Zach. Sword work. We haven't had to repair swords for a while."

"That's a'cos I made you stop choppin branches with the ones we got, dolt." Again, the booming voice.

Chuckles rippled through the room at the expense of the young man. "Well, if you'd fixed the ax-" Laughter cut him off, and the young man rolled his eyes and sulked towards the fire. Bradley elbowed him as he passed, moving into the kitchen to grab the bottles of wine.

The barmaid worked swiftly, making sure that she got all the tankards of cider to the group and their stew as well before they were sitting for too long. She was quiet and didn't bother them with more than the overly-curious looks that everybody had given them, with a hint of distrust.

As happens now and then, there was an unexpected hush in conversation that allowed Dayton's question to ring out with what seemed like an odd amount of volume. Stony looks were exchanged around the room and for a moment, only the sound of the fiddle continued quietly. Bradley coming out from the kitchen seemed to set things moving once again. Conversation continued once more, and Luis continued to play the song, shifting it to something a little more upbeat.

Rhyn had been mostly ignoring the outsiders, aside from making sure they made no sudden moves, spoke no threats, and in essence, did nothing abnormal than be here,in her small town. But even had there not been a hush of conversation in that moment, her ears would have caught the comment. Insult ran through her, that they would call her home a place for people to be exiled to. Fools! Here in the lowlands...it is warm. Exiling is like killing, only you do not do the work yourself, you let nature to it. The mountains are dangerous, but not a place for exiling! The silence ended as Bradley came out of the kitchens once again. Two bottles of wine were in his hands.

He walked past her and cordially put the wine down on the table, along with a set of four goblets for the adult men on the table. After that he had no reason to hover, and returned to his post at the bar. Rhyn however, had turned her eyes onto the group, and now found one of the squires to be staring at her. It was not offensive, though she felt odd, being stared at so. She rose to her feet once again, head tilted cat-like to one side as she observed him through pale eyes. His blond hair was not an odd shade, but he was younger, and not so intimidating as the others around him.

Her feet brought her steady towards the table full of strangers, and she had to block them from her mind, focusing solely upon the blond squire as she approached. When she was roughly a foot away, where she knew her voice would be heard despite its quiet timbre, she stopped, her thick tail twitching slightly in her nervousness. Her voice was low, somewhere between a purr and a growl as she spoke with careful diction. "Have you not seen such as myself before, youngling?" She stood below five feet tall, and at this distance, it could be seen that much of her size came from the sheer bulk of fur that she carried.
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Frostbitten · Hiskarin Mountains

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