Open First Rain at Grath's Rest

[Woath]

19th of Winter, 512 A.V. Woath lumbered into Grath's Rest on all fours, shaking off the afternoon rain that had been falling since he'd left the Memorium. Being for the moment out of a house and home, the Jamoura had taken to staying at Grath's Rest, which served admirably in lieu of a home for it's enchanting atmosphere, delicious food, and transcendental drink. Kashal greeted the young Jamoura with a smile, "Free drinks with the first Rain, Woath!" Woath returned her smile, nodding happily, "I'll take my usual lunch, Kashal. Two poached beetles with mashed fruit and nuts on the side. And fetch me a pitcher of Grath's Special." Kashal laughed and nodded, "Very well, Woath. But any special brew that is left when you awake tomorrow, head throbbing, will be charging to you." She winked, but Woath wasn't entirely convinced she was joking. "Better bring a few more cups, that I can enlist a crew to help." Woath grinned despite himself as he took his rest at a table near to the Hearth. He stared happily at the flames for a while, hypnotized into docility. As the flames danced before his eyes, he could feel the call to channel the magical flames he knew rested within him. With a concerted shudder of his shoulders, he repressed the urge to entertain his lust for magic, and merely waited patiently for Kashal to return with his drink. She did so not long after, bringing a tray with a large pitcher of Grath's special and a set of cups to accomodate the rest of the table, in case company joined him in his drinking. He kept an eye about the bar, eager to meet more of his fellow residents before the drink ran dry.

[Banir Ironwood]

Sitting in a the corner of Garth's Rest a young man of six foot stared out a window. Clad in a dirty green long winter coat wet with the new rain. He wore heavy cold iron armour, two shoulder pads, thick greaves, and armour that covered his right arm; ending in bladed fingers. The armour clinked every time he moved or shifted his weight. His hood over his head shadowing his features until only his eyes showed through the darkness. To cover the lower portion of his face a white scarf was wrapped around and brought over the bridge of his nose. Hiding his ruined face from the world. The young man was named Banir Ironwood, and it was his rage red eyes that peered out the window. Gazing at the rain he had been caught in only moments ago. Thankfully he enjoyed hanging around Garth's Rest to pass his time and his clothes weren't horribly soaked. Though he was quite cold from what had struck his winter coat. However he was too stubborn to remove it, the shame on his face reaffirming this thick headed response. He'd just tough it out like he always did.

Silently he closed his Vantha blooded eyes, the thickness of his body and size of his muscles betrayed his eyes. As only a certain stout and strong race had a body so similar to his own. And as his thick muscles bulged under his coat he enjoyed what heat he could get his way. His attention was brought up as he noticed a Jamoura walk in on all fours. It was a little strange as he was used to seeing most Jamoura walk on only two legs. Only on four when running, it was not his place to really question, every Jamoura was different. And they where still so, different to him, still rather new as he'd talked with few of them. It was hard to speak with a Jamoura as his appearance had him portrayed as a thug or brute of little intelligence. However he got by with speaking to the occasional Kelvic or one of his few passing friends in the Spires. He still found himself rather alone most of the time. As he watched the large ape walk in, seeing him converse with Kashal. They seemed unlike strangers so he figured he must be a regular, or just here when he wasn't. Though he got a strange feeling when he saw the Jamoura stare at the fires. He didn't know why but something in him seemed to go off. Warning him of a threat that most likely wouldn't come.

Shaking his head he realized these thoughts didn't matter, what did matter was should he go talk to this new patron? Test out his new throat some more? It did still hurt to talk but the more he practiced with it the easier it seemed to get. He felt himself get a little nervous and a turquoise floated at the top of his eyes. Unsure of himself as he kept considering if a scholarly Jamoura would converse with the brutish young man?

[Woath]

There were a good number of other patrons present at this hour. Afternoon was often a good time for crowds, more when it rained, and to say nothing of when drinks were being offered for free! Still, one patron in particular caught the Jamoura's eye. A muscular and heavily armored young man was seated at a table in a dark corner, his face shrouded by a hood and scarf. The tales warned of joining one who voluntarily seated themselves in the darkness, that joining them in conversation often resulted in getting wrangled into uncomfortable and compromising adventures. But surely those were just tales. The Jamoura didn't know why, his attitude was foreboding, but something about this one bore Woath to take an interest. He hadn't seen this one before around the city. Woath wondered if he was some kind of traveler. Being a lover of tales, this interested him as travelers often had the most interesting tales of unfamiliar places and peoples. That decided it for him. He tried to catch the man's eye, and then waved and grinned apishly. He took his pitcher and tray of cups. Then he started ambling toward the man's table, the cups wobbling slightly as he went along. He stopped a few steps short of an empty seat, and bowed his head fractionally. "Good afternoon, sire. I am Woath. I've brought some of Grath's finest nectar, if you would allow me to take a seat." He gave the man a friendly smile, keeping his eyes low to show he meant no aggression. Although, granted, this man looked tough enough that few things would intimidate him, least of all a clumsy Jamoura.

[Banir Ironwood]

Banir's gaze had returned to the window, watching the rain fall down. He had no melancholy thoughts or those of malice. Simply letting his mind wander in his lonely head if he could possibly becoming stronger. Learn to actually be a real warrior, maybe get a bunch of like minded individuals. Perhaps stabilize trade in and through Taldera. But until he was a better fighter that would remain more a thought and dream. His thoughts became broken as he heard the heavy weight of a Jamoura approach him. Turning his gaze he looked up at the man who identified himself as Woath. He was quite the Jamoura, though he felt no intimidation and as he understood these people of the Spires where peaceful folk. More of knowledge and of learning than of fighting and warriors, regardless their pursuit of nonviolence was an honorable one. As his Vanathan eyes examined the large mass of fur and muscle he raised a thick arm and mentioned to the seat across from him.

Of all the things Woath displayed it was his smile that made him offer the seat. He saw few enough of them nowadays and he liked people who could smile as he himself couldn't. Well he could smile it just hurt a lot, the scars that entranced their way on his hidden faced wouldn't allow him a pleasant smile. Plenty of reason as to not show his face, though his barely controlled rage was also another reason. But he found himself distracted, and in that he would seem rude to Woath. A first impression he'd hate to make as he struggled to work his brain to find a kind introduction.

Taking a long and steady breath of his damaged throat he prepared himself and his words lined up in his mind. "My name is Banir, Ironwood. It is an honor to, meet you Mr. Woath. Please feel free to take, a seat at your leisure." He took a moment to let the Jamoura get comfortable. And to let his throat rest, the healer he had visited had done a job better than what he thought possible of her. Though he still had a long way to go and his throat hurt greatly still as he spoke, ate, and drink. He tried to think of a good way to start a conversation. Something to show he was not the brute he appeared to be, that he didn't lack a mind underneath his muscle.

He finally had a mind and words to say taking another long breath inward he let his gruff and rough voice breech past his white scarf. "The weather has turned, quite foul lately. It is clear that, Morwen has really began, her walk across Mizahar. I got a little, wet out in the, weather myself before making, it to Garth's. Though I'm not quite, thirsty myself its. Generous of Garth to, offer such on, a day like this." He had to stop as his throat was in great pain once more. Letting his left unarmored hand slip below his scarf to gently massage his throat. Trying to release some of the pain.

[Vaspira]

Vaspira saw a bar called Garths Rest up ahead as she made her journey through the rain, she saw a little sign outside stating there was free drinks inside. Vaspira shrugged her shoulders thinking hell why not..drinks and dryness would be great. Vaspira was still really new to this place, the Suvan Sea was a bit less social than this place. Vaspira gulped down her panic and washed the emotion off her face as she inhaled deeply, and put her confidence in place. Vaspira walked through the door and paused to take off her bladed cloak and shook the rain drops off of it. She shook her head to get the little rain drops that found there way through her hood and cloak. Vaspira didn't mind getting wet, but being soaked definitely annoyed her. Vaspira looked around Garths Rest still standing in the door way, trying to get a feel for the place to see if it was a safe place or not. She wasn't itching for blood this eve, just wanted some rest, a drink, and maybe a friendly face. There were a few patrons around having a good time, enjoying the free drinks. She looked over at the corner and saw one of the men she saw from earlier talking to a Jamoura. maybe he doesn't remember me. She thought to herself as she looked at him inspecting him quickly. She looked him directly in the eyes showing no emotion and then looked at the Jamoura. She did not know much about these ape like creatures, but she found their intellect quite interesting non the less. Vaspira looked away before she got caught staring and proceeded to the bar to order a few drinks and have a good time with some of the local patrons. Nothing like meeting some of the residents at this new mysterious place she had traveled to. She sat at the bar stool and placed her cloak comfortingly on her lap and ordered a drink sipping on it, staying on alert and looking around at all the different patrons in the bar.

[Nasrin]

Rain. Few things gave Nasrin true amusement, taciturn as she was, but rain saw in her a cheerfulness rarely seen otherwise. Most people from climates where rain was common saw the phenomenon for the blessing that her people did, and though she was not truly one of Makutsi's followers she did hold a healthy respect for the goddess. A quick utterance of thanks, murmered into a quickly emptying mug of hot tea, was sent to Makutsi. She'd gotten over her intense discomfort with the presence of the Jamoura and other races that inhabited The Spires; enough to enjoy a solitary seat at the tavern, at least. Her own home was comfortable, but small, and ill-suited as a venue to enjoy the day's fine weather. She'd spent a good third of a season in Grath's Rest, living here while she and Ayana were building their permament home in this place. As far as she knew, they were still the only Eypharians living in The Spires, and though she had made the acquaintance of a sweet Dhani woman from Ahnatep, it was something of a lonely life. While there was something to be said for the vibrant plant life and scholarly air of the city, it did nothing to warm the chill that seemed to set permanently in her chest at the thought of her hot desert home. Grasping her mug of tea (almost empty now) with her upper two gloved hands, the lower two rapping idly on the table in front of her. The drinks were free that day, so she might as well have taken advantage. Shrugging her shoulders, the little beads and bone adornments on her clothing and twined into her braid clinked as she stood, moving to the bar. On the way she caught sight of that quiet, hulking man she'd seen often with Ximal, and raised one golden hand to him in greeting. Banir, or somesuch. He was sitting and likely conversing with a male Jamoura (finally, after many weeks in this place she was usually able to tell their gender). She was feeling uncharacteristically social, and she hesitated for a moment on the way to the bar, wondering if she ought to join him.