Completed Tavern Songs [Aislyn and Yisanareysin]

[Ruzekiel Soren]

40th Day of Summer 514 AV Evening was falling outside the inn, and the patrons who had been sitting inside to escape the summer heat were eating, drinking and talking as the air rapidly cooled outside with the sunset. Ruzekiel Soren sat in one corner of the cavernous common room, strumming a simple but popular ditty as the sounds and smells of the tavern wafted around him. The weathered old lute strings thrummed underneath his callused fingers as he pressed them across the many frets, and he smiled to himself--he loved his job. Being payed to do what you love is something few people managed to achieve in their lifetimes. Luckily this was where he wanted to be. A young traveller passed by his case and tossed a copper into the divet, and he sent a quick thank-you the boy’s way. The only thing better than minstrelling was getting tips while minstrelling. As he finished the song, a portly man (one of the rougher merchants by the looks of him) approached with a silver miza in his hand. Over the years Zeke had become good at spotting coin. Also, shiny. “Can you play ‘Rabbit in the Rosebush?” the man asked in a low rumble. Zeke blinked. He vaguely recalled the piece, a quirky tune native to Alvadas. It might be tricky. He didn’t have the music for it, but he had a basic idea of the chord structures and the plucky tempo. A melody for summer. He looked up at the man and said truthfully, “I’m not sure. I can try to play it by ear if you like.” “See that you do. There’s a silver in it for ye.” At that, the man turned and made his way back to his seat. Zeke watched him go with a little trepidation. The old classics would have been an easy set for tonight, but where was the fun in that? Zeke grinned. Keeping the tune he remembered at the front of his thoughts, he tentatively plucked a single string, making sure to get the pitch right. Then his fingers made their way to another string, and another, until he was slowly but surely picking out the first few measures of the music. As he fumbled along, someone shouted from the corner, “Pick up the pace, bard!” Zeke set his jaw and increased his tempo, worried that one wrong note could send the whole piece into shambles. He really needed that silver right now and this song was proving harder than he expected, especially when it came time for the more sprightly measures. A sweat broke out on his brow as he carefully policed his hands while they strummed and plucked the notes out in an increasing tempo. He vaguely recalled this being the part where a rabbit chases some sly, practical animal around a shrubbery. Or was it a fox, chasing the rabbit? Stay focused! He reminded himself, bent over the lute with an intense look of concentration on his face. At one point in the song he suddenly realized he had no idea what was coming next. Before he knew it, he had frozen mid-pluck. As a murmur started up around him he took a deep breath and reminded himself not to panic. Even though nothing was playing. He’d stopped playing. Dangit! He’d have to improvise. Zeke plucked a string. Then another, slowly recovering from the sudden memory blank with new notes in the same vein as the previous ones. It was still “Rabbit in the Rosebush”, essentially. He just...had to substitute some notes. He got back up to the tempo he had been keeping, but this time with new notes, close to the old ones but different too. Suddenly he felt much more free with these friendlier strings, and he tossed in a few extra strums and rolls here and there. He felt the environment in the tavern start to shift as he grew more confident in the music, and he found himself tapping his foot hard against the wood floor to keep tempo with how fast his fingers were going. A few interested visitors had started up a thumping beat with boots and fists, and Zeke used that as a jumping point for a twangy, springing melody that was the same and still profoundly different from the one he started with. Zeke finally let himself breathe a sigh of relief as he closed the song, weaving in the most eligible notes with a flourish. A few scattered claps erupted from the corners of the room, and from his seat the battered merchant allowed his performance a quiet bravo, before he stood up and made his way again to the minstrel’s bench. Zeke looked up at the man quizzically. He wasn’t sure what his reaction would be. After all Zeke only had foggy memories of that last bit that he stumbled on---but the merchant smirked and dropped 5 copper mizas into Zeke’s lute case. “Well finagled, minstrel. Not great, but...satisfactory.” The man turned away, nodded to Micah behind the bar and left the common room for the sleeping quarters further down in the caves. Zeke bent down and collected the coins with a gleeful grin. If “satisfactory” was enough for a mug of summer ale and some sustenance, he was just fine with that. He bit a coin and found, as expected, that it was real, and wasted no time in acquiring ale and a hunk of bread, putting away his lute and sitting contentedly on the bench with his hard-earned supper. Hm. Now to think of stories to tell when the fire was lit.

[Aislyn Leavold]

40th of Summer, 514 AV

Tonight, Aislyn had allowed herself a treat.
Odd jobs paid surprisingly well, especially since the money came in leaps and bounds, not merely a few mizas a day. Sure, it wasn’t the most steady job, and she was entirely relying on a man who was (technically) undead, but every job had it’s ups and downs, didn’t it? Anyways, the pay was good, and the work exciting. It wasn’t everyday one got to adventure in a sentient mansion, was it? Unless one was Aislyn, in which case one did.
In any light, the extra coin allowed Lyn to go out on nights like these, to taverns like… Well, this.

She had originally planned on a night out, probably at some bar somewhere, but Alvadas had a strange way of placing things, and when she had set off to find somewhere to adventure the night away, the Wolf’s Cave had been- literally- at her doorstep. Maybe it was Ionu’s way of telling her something, or maybe he had just decided Aislyn’s plans were not satisfactory.

She had originally gone out as Maya, but as the night drew in closer, Aislyn had changed her appearance to one of her more rarely-used illusions; Thief. It wasn’t as if she was planning on doing anything above the law- not yet, at least- but in the darkness of night, the disguise just felt more… Right. As she walked into the tavern, Aislyn held her small mirror in the palm of her hand, making sure every part of her appearance was just right. She wasn’t being vain, just careful. If she forgot to throw an illusion over one eye, or exposed her natural hair colour below Thief’s inky black, she was doomed.
Not paranoid, careful.

As thief, her appearance differed greatly. Her light eyes deepen to a hazel, her long, flowing hair shortens into a straight black mop, her face contorts into a much less angular shape, and her gnosis mark is hidden. Aislyn had gone over every step in her mind. Everything was perfect… She hoped. Over her illusion, she wore a simply white outfit, though it didn’t appear that way. To anyone looking, her clothing appeared black, and much more showy than what it really was. Her pants were a skirt, and her shirt was a blouse. Not that it felt that way. Dresses had never been Aislyn’s thing, though they seemed to be popular in Alvadas, so she often cast an illusion over her regular clothing, making it seem much more… Dressy. In all, she had six illusions going, counting the outfit. She could keep this up for four hours, not that she intended to be out for so long.

Putting the mirror back in her bag, Aislyn- or Nise, the name she had claimed tonight- Looked around the common room, hoping to find someone to mingle with, maybe even make a friend. Not that many of her friendships lasted long, but they were fun to manipulate for a while. Maybe even genuinely. Once or twice Aislyn had even met people in two forms, usually Maya and Thief, interchanging between illusions just for the thrill of it. Like deity, like worshipper, or however the saying went.

Once inside the building, Aislyn took the chance to look around, or rather, listen around. The tavern was filled with talking, yes, but it was also filled with music. A pretty tune, that quickly picked up by the time Lyn had settled herself in. At first it was little more than a few out-of-tune notes, and though she wasn’t sure it was part of the act, Aislyn liked it. It sounded very off in some places, with the notes not always matching up, and next to no repeatable tune, but all together, the patchwork song was enjoyable. At least, for Aislyn. Then again, she had a strange taste in music.

As the song ended, Aislyn made her way over to whatever bard had been playing. She made sure to avoid physical contact, though once or twice she swore someone would turn around and start yelling about the appearingly-silk fabric really felt like linen. Paranoid she may be, but caught she was not. A fair trade, in her mind.

Finally reaching the appearingly man who had been playing the song, Aislyn sat down beside him, quietly observing for several moments. It appeared the instrument he had used was a lute, and an old one at that. Probably handed down, or used quite vigorously to get to the state it was. Deciding to make conversation, Aislyn decided to introduce “Herself”, or rather, Nise.

”I heard the song you were playing. Quite nice, really. I feel like I should know it, yet it’s different from what I’ve heard before…” Aislyn paused a moment to wonder whether or not she should put her hand out for the man to shake. Thief’s hands were rougher than her real hands, to put distance between the disguises. They would definitely feel different, but it wasn’t as if the man could sense her lies just from that, could he? Throwing the thought away, Aislyn decided to risk it. She used her false name of the night to introduce herself, of course, but she kept an air of friendliness with the greeting. ”My names’ Nise… And I, for one, would like to know what that song was. Along with who you are, of course.”

[Ruzekiel Soren]

Zeke set down the mug of ale and looked towards the source of the compliment to see an odd young woman standing before him. She had a soft face curtained by a dark mop of inky black hair, and her silken garb was just as dark. Compared to her Zeke appeared more like a circus clown than a poor minstrel. “That was “Rabbit in the Rosebush”, or something like it anyway,” he explained, chuckling. “I’m glad you liked it. I was in a bit of a spot for a while there.” He paused for a moment. This woman looked...shifty. He couldn’t place it, but there was something off in the way she carried herself. Poised, and confident, but also cautious, as if someone might be watching her...Brigade of bandits? Highly-trained assassins sent to dispose of her due to bastardy? Could she be a thief on the run from the law?...Eh, not his problem. Zeke had a tendency to read too much into things. He could make up entire backstories for people sometimes, if he thought hard enough about it. That imaginative fuel for his stories was the same quality that used to get him thrown out of places and socked in the face. He had learned from an early age that some scars are just household accidents, and should never be mentioned in conversation no matter how intriguing their stories are. Especially if the man is bigger than you. Unfortunately most men were bigger than him, and sometimes the ones with scars liked punching things. He looked up at the woman again (Niece, was it? Odd name.) and realized she was waiting expectantly for him to say something. “Oh,” he started, hopping up from the bench and holding out his hand. “Soren, Ruzekiel Soren. Pleased to meet ya.” He made a low bow and introduced himself more fully. “Tavern minstrel, storyteller and occasional juggler at your service.” He looked up at the girl with a wink. The chatter in the tavern had risen to its usual evening level by now, and the smell of woodsmoke, meat and mead wafted round the place. Micah was striking flint and steel by the round stone fire pit and lighting the patch of dry tinder underneath the logs to get it going. “Zeke!” she called, “Why don’t you entertain these folks with a tale?” He nodded to her, downed the last of the ale and set the mug down, clapping the strange woman on the shoulder. “Well, that’s my cue. I’m off to deliver life lessons in a cozy, literary form. Stay a while friend, have a drink and a listen!” As well as being the storyteller, he also considered it his duty to advertise the tavern to everyone who cared to listen. After all, more people, more tips, less terrible looming debt! Zeke plopped down at the stone wall edge of the firepit, set down his lute case and left it open at his feet, the scattered coins left in the lid encouraging satisfied patrons to donate to his savings, or more directly to his stomach, which was likely where those coins were going. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and then opened them, scanning the room for potential listeners. Some were more receptive to a good story than others. Some preferred violence and danger, others wanted princesses and flowers. Luckily tonight’s was a violent crowd, if his observations were correct. His eyes lingered on the tastefully-dressed woman he’d just left, wondering what her story was but certainly having no time to decipher it. He took another deep breath, settled himself on the edge of the seat, cleared his throat loudly, and began. The noise died down a wee bit as a receptive few looked towards the firepit with interest. “Tonight’s tale begins like any other, with a once upon a time...In a secluded, sleepy farming town there lived a mysterious, enigmatic creature, half man, half beast, able to change his appearance at will to whatever suited him,” Zeke paused, looking around the room,“But, only at night...He used this power to take what he could live on from the town’s foodstores, and do odd jobs in darkness, to live a life as best he could. But, whenever he revealed himself during the day, the townsfolk would scream and run and hide. The creature--let’s call him ‘Gordol’--was lonely. He couldn’t show his true self to anyone because he knew they would run, or worse, harm him. But he had a good heart, and faith, and he knew that one day he’d be able to step in the sun as himself...” Zeke sat back to let this sink in, a small smile on his face, as he introduced the antagonists. “It just so happened that the day came, on a sweltering summer morning. A group of terrible raiders came to the town and started sacking and burning everything in sight.” Zeke’s eyes widened and he leaned forward, pandering to the few patrons who had shown vague interest in the tale. He raised his voice and projected its intensity to the back of the room as he went on, gesturing wildly with his hands. “Houses plundered and set aflame! Crops trampled, livestock stolen!” He swiftly took out his lute and strummed a dangerous chord. “The townsfolk were terrified. Their small militia was proving no match for the bandits. Gordol saw this from his hiding place in a cave upon a hill--” Zeke gestured upwards towards the back of the audience, using his other hand to set down the lute again (That one chord was worth it).“...and he knew that the town wouldn’t stand a chance. Although they treated him poorly in his own skin, he could not abide seeing innocent people hurt. So he ran straight out of his cave and down the hill to the town! The townsfolk saw him and most became so afraid that they ran away. The bandits were also afraid, but they didn’t want to give up their toughness or their plunder, so they stood tall..” Zeke paused and looked slowly around at each face turned towards him, his expression gleefully dark. “Bad idea.” He leapt up nimbly from his seat and took a wide stance, his eyes glinting madly in the firelight. “Gordol roooaaared with the force of beast and man together! ‘No more will you slaughter the innocent and steal livestock and trample crops!’ he rumbled.” Zeke started punching and kicking at the air, bouncing animatedly as he narrated the conflict unfolding. “BAM! POW! WHAM!” he said, his voice rising to a shout as he mimicked the crunchy, bloody sounds of a total bandit slamdown. A few people had to scurry back from Zeke’s onslaught--he’d never really been very coordinated after all, which is why he also managed to accidentally knock over a chair in his excitement. “KA-ZAM--” Clatter. Thunk. “Whups. Thank you Micah. Now where was I? Right.” He sat down again. “Gordol sought out the bandits leader...and catapulted him into a burning house! With their leader gone, the rest of the bandits dispersed like cockroaches under lantern-light.” Zeke’s voice took on a calmer tone now, a more intellectual narrative spirit. “After the sounds of the fighting died down and the bandits had fled, the townsfolk began to emerge from their hiding places. Most had seen what the creature had done, and they were incredibly grateful. They were still terrified of Gordol and his incredible strength and power, but now, they knew that in times of strife the creature would protect the town out of the kindness of his heart, and that helped them to overcome their fear and welcome him into the secluded, sleepy community. Gordol himself helped put out the flames of the fires and replant the crops, and, for the first time, he felt accepted and loved by the town, as its guardian and protector.” Zeke let his silence stretch out for a while as the sounds of the tavern surrounded him. Then he stood up and bowed ever so slightly with a grin. “Thank youuu, I’ll be here all week!” His eyes wandered again to the mysterious curiosity in the fancy skirts and he gave her a little wave before pocketing the tips in his coat, packing up his lute case and making his way back to the minstrel bench.

[Aislyn Leavold]

Aislyn didn't like this story.
It reminded her far too much of her own.
This man was either a physic, or he somehow had incredible luck because, with the way his story was being weaved, he was getting far too lucky with the coincidences. Other than the fact that the main character was a man, the introduction of the story struck a striking resemblence to Aislyn's own life.

This struck a note with her.

As the mysterious man, Soren, his had said his name was, kept talking, Aislyn followed along in her mind, weaving her own story. Replace beast with Zith, man with woman, darkness with secrecy, and there you had it, a literal representation of Aislyn’s life. The resemblance between stories was striking, and, before the part about saving-the-town and evil bandits, Aislyn had only two words running through her head.
He knows.

Eventually, the story trailed off in the stereotypical direction of monster saves town, town learns to love monster, but Aislyn had long since stopped listening by then. Her eyes drew a blank, as if all processes of her body had been postponed to think this over. And, really, they had. She didn’t realize until her throat started to burn that she had stopped breathing altogether. In a way, this was her worst nightmare. Someone knowing exactly who she was, and telling everyone about it.

Drawing in a longer-than-needed breath, Aislyn tuned back in just as the man wrapped up his tale. As she adjusted her eyes to actually seeing again, Aislyn realized that the man was staring at her. For a second fear shot through her, it seemed as if he was observing her, checking for any reaction that his story was right. Luckily, he just smiled and waved, picking up his things before moving back to his original spot.

Aislyn stayed where she was, having a mental heart attack. Maybe it was just luck, or coincidence, but the fact that he had told the exact story of her life- minus the bandit pounding- while she was in the premises was slightly suspicious, if not impossible by chance. Once she had calmed down her breathing, she managed to stand up on shaking legs and make her way back over to the man. Hopefully he hadn’t noticed her fear, though there was a good chance that he had. She had tried to keep all of her panic internal, but it was a hard task when one’s life seemed to be unraveling.

But it was just chance, right?

Once again sitting down next to Ruzekiel, Aislyn sat in silence for nearly a chime, before trusting her voice to speak again.
”...That was an interesting story.” For once in her life, Aislyn couldn’t find the right words to say. ”I.. Uhm…”
Momentarily, Aislyn contemplated running off and changing her appearance, in an attempt to start clean. She really wanted to get to know this man, especially now, but it seemed he knew her better than he realized. He was naive at very least, incredibly lucky at most.

Calming her nerves and dismissing the story as chance, Aislyn allowed the topic to sink to the back of her mind. Once again trusting herself to speak, Lyn smoothed her features and spoke more clearly this time. Remember, I am Nise. I am not a monster. I am a thief. That’s better, right?

”...Sorry about that. Your story reminded me of…” Aislyn hesitated for a tick, before smoothing her voice and continuing. ”...Someone I used to know.”

[Yisanareysin]

Rey had been sleeping, as he often was, when the rather upbeat melody roused him. Yawing widely, the Dhani uncoiled, disentangling himself from the blanket and pillow and tossing them back onto the unused bed. Briefly, he considered slithering out into the common room in his current form. The two wolves knew what he was, of course, after Korin had burst in after smelling a snake, but most of the other guests, and anyone else just stopping by probably wouldn't react very well to a Dhani slithering in. Human it was then. Shifting, he quickly got dressed, threw on his coat, then made his way to the common room. He stepped in just as the song ended, and made his way immediately to the yet unlit fire pit. This being fairly regular for him, Micah padded over to hand him a mug of ale. Rey flashed her a grin as he paid her, then settled down to watch the common room. The place was a little busier than usual, given how close to evening it was, but nothing too unusual. Rey could see travelers, merchants, locals just sitting around to chat, and, of course, the inn bard. Rey had seen him around before, but had never really bothered to talk to him. It looked like he was chatting with a woman, rather well dressed. Not the type he would have expected in a place like the Wolf's Cave, but then again, nothing in this city was what anyone could reasonably expect. Rey could hear snatches of conversation from around the room, and absent mindedly began to sort them out as he sipped his ale. The men over in the corner were merchants, discussing trade routes around Sylira. The shy looking woman talking to Korin was apparently a Kelvic, something that could fly from the sound of it. The bard was talking about the song he had been singing. Rabbit something or the other, apparently. There was a moody looking woman in the back nursing a mug of something, a brawny man showing off to the people around him, and Micah.. was walking towards him. Ah yes, his favorite part of the night. He leaned forward eagerly as Micah lit the firepit, calling to the bard to tell a story. Rey ignored him, purring happily instead as the logs caught on fire. Micah laughed at him lightly, before stepping away. Rey shifted closer to the fire, glad for its warmth. Even in the middle of summer, this city was far too humid, and not quite hot enough to satisfy the desert serpent. So content was he in the sudden warmth, he barely noticed the bard sitting down nearby until the man began to speak. Rey had always liked stories. His father used to be able to keep him in line by bribing him with the promise of a story if he behaved. But this story though... A monster half man, half beast, able to change as it liked. Rey frowned thoughtfully at the bard, his tongue running over where his fangs would be in his other forms. How did he know? Had the wolves told him there was a dhani in one of the rooms? Or was he talking about something else? What other creature was half man half... animal... Oh. Of course. The kelvics. Rey snickered softly at himself. Although judging by how often Korin went howling off completely naked, they seemed more beast than man. Well, with that mystery solved, Rey was free to enjoy the story. It was a fairly standard story, though the musical effects were quite nice. The dramatical rendition of the fight scene was also amusing, though it did force Rey to quickly back away from the fire to avoid getting punched. When it was over, and the man returned to his seat with the well dressed woman, Rey waited a moment, then followed him. The woman he was with seemed a little shaken, oddly enough. He stepped up to them just as she explained her shakiness. Someone she used to know? Huh. He tucked that little tidbit into the back of his mind. "Nice story, You could be a little less punchy when fighting fake bandits though." Rey snagged a nearby chair, and sat down before them. "You don't want to start a fight here, not with so many... creatures around." He remarked dryly, referencing the story he had just told. "And it was a little over the top, you know."

[Ruzekiel Soren]

Zeke was a little befuddled by this woman. When he got back to his seat, he saw her making her way towards him again, but she looked almost frightened. Terrified, even. His thoughts went back to the thief on the run story, but he looked around and saw no law enforcers or particularly nasty people after her, so that idea was out. Although he tucked it away to write down later just in case he got inspired. Hm. Maybe his bloody tale of bandits and head-smashing had frightened her, but it seemed unlikely. He dismissed it and smiled as she sat down next to him. Her words of praise were halting and muddled, and she trailed off into silence looking down at her hands. Finally she took a deep breath and addressed him clearly. “...Sorry about that. Your story reminded me of...Someone I used to know.” Zeke chuckled. “Well, I figure it’s a feeling we’ve all had at one point. Being cast out, not belonging. A universal feeling of being discarded, feared, misjudged--” "Nice story,” someone said. Zeke looked up to see a small but elegant man with silvery hair standing before them. “You could be a little less punchy when fighting fake bandits though.” He grabbed a chair and sat down in front of Zeke and...er...what’s-her-name. Morwen he’d forgotten her name already. "You don't want to start a fight here, not with so many... creatures around,”the man remarked with a smirk. The critique smarted a little bit, and Zeke wanted to defend his actions, but then he remembered nearly colliding with the man at the fire and realized he did have a point. Zeke settled for a nervous laugh and inclined his head. “True. I suppose that poor chair would have been the least of my worries if I had kicked some brigand in the shins, eh?” He took out a miza from the loose coat pocket closest to the girl and played it across his knuckles. “Or maybe ‘dropped’ an apple on someone’s head in your haste to impress,” Korin grumbled from behind the counter. Zeke huffed and tossed back, “I told you that was an accident. Let it go!” “And it was a little over the top, too,” the man finished critically, though not unkindly. Zeke chortled at that. “Mate, over the top is my middle name. Or, three names. It’s me, anyhow, heh.” Suddenly realizing he’d forgotten to introduce himself, he slipped the coin back into his pocket and stuck out his hand for the stranger to shake. “Soren, Ruzekiel Soren, at yer service. Minstrel and storyteller, master of disguise. Jack of all trades, merchant of tales, and tattooer of skins.” He didn’t know why he felt he had to tack on the names, but once a story got out his imagination was in gear. He sat back down and took out his lute, idly strumming and plucking as he regarded the two folks sitting around him. He always felt more comfortable with an instrument in social situations. It gave his hands something to do while he half-listened to other people. "So...er..." This was the part that always confused him. Should he ask about the weather? Mention the Dhani sightings around town? He'd be interested to see what these strangers thought of them. Senesskyra had been very discreet about her snake form, even in her own house. Weird snake people it is. "So," he leaned forward over his lute and grinned at the two strangers, "Have you two ever heard of Dhani?"

[Aislyn Leavold]

It seemed someone else had joined the conversation.
Whilst Aislyn had been mentally suffocating, a man had snuck up behind the two, introducing himself with words of praise for Ruzekiel’s story. It seemed many people had liked the story. The woman let out an almost inaudible sigh of relief. All the fuss had been for nothing; No one knew. She swore it seemed like every time someone mentioned her name and monster within the same chime she froze up. The truth couldn’t hurt her, at least not when it came to strangers. Not everyone could be after her, could they?

Sitting quietly as the two men- Ruzekiel and this new man- spoke onwards, Aislyn listened quietly. She had always done things like this, observing silently. Finding out their weaknesses she would have joked. Not that she was much of the joking type. Sarcasm, yes. Insults disguised as humour, yes. Why did the chicken cross the road? No.

As the two went on with their (in Aislyn’s opinion) pointless chatter, the woman idly played with the chain around her neck. The pendant was little more than what it appeared; a locket. It opened and closed, with four compartments on the inside. Three spaces in the front, one in the back. The first three were filled, but the latter remained empty. With the locket being meant for a family, Aislyn didn’t exactly have much to put in it, especially with small enough paintings being so hard to come by. She had managed to obtain a painting of her mother and herself, after much description to an artist, but the third picture had been the hard part. It was a representation of what Lyn thought of young self looking like, though it probably wasn’t that accurate. After all, Aislyn had done it herself. How good could it be?

The locket popped open and shut as Aislyn weaved her fingers around it, thinking. It was often something she did idly, or when she was nervous. Right now, she couldn’t tell what she was.
That wasn’t a first.

Tuning back into the conversation, Aislyn found that the pair of men seemed to be talking about… Well, in all reality, she had no idea what they were talking about. The first thing she had heard after zoning back in was Ruzekiel mumbling on about something, before getting out one clear sentence.
”So, have you two ever heard of Dhani?”

Finally turning her gaze back to Zeke- Instead of her hands, which was where she had previously been looking- Aislyn let her mind wonder at what he was talking about. It was either a monster or a person that he was speaking of, though which it was was beyond her. Her curiosity on the topic bloomed, and, abandoning her silent streak, Aislyn decided to answer the grinning man’s question.

”Actually… No, I haven’t heard of them. A creature of some sort, I presume. A race of monsters, or people?” Aislyn opened her mouth to say more, but just as quickly decided against it. Then again, what’s the difference? was probably not the best thing to say at that exact moment in time.
Switching her gaze back and forth between the two men, Aislyn pondered the question as a woman- Presumably the bartender or tavern owner- came around, offering drinks. Aislyn took one, though she had no intention of drinking it, instead setting it to the side for a later date. Should the men decide to indulge themselves, she didn’t care. It would probably make the night more entertaining. It seemed to be approaching the time of night when drinks were passed around, and too many mugs of ale were consumed. Soon, the common room would be filled with meandering drunkards, and when that happened, Aislyn didn’t want to be there.

Making a note to suggest leaving the tavern, Aislyn cast a look over the room, absentmindedly pushing deeper into the “Dhani” mystery.
”Care to enlighten me?”

[Yisanareysin]

It seemed that this bard was rather entertaining, if a little banal. Rey shook his hand, smirking at Ruzekiel's introduction. "Reysin Ekans." Rey replied, inclining his head slightly. "Rey will do." Master of disguise, merchant of tales and tattooer of skins was it? Sounded like empty boasts. The boy couldn't be much more than a youngling, or whatever the human equivalent was. Still, he was amusing. Which was more than could be said of the woman fiddling with the chain around her neck. The woman was quiet, and didn't seem to be paying attention to their conversation. She no longer seemed as spooked as she had a few moments ago, but still seemed a little distressed, if the way she was playing with her locket was any indication. She offered no introduction, and he asked for none. He'd find out in his own time, he supposed. Ruzekiel seemed to be floundering for something to say, and Rey was just about to ask about the lute when the bard found a topic. It took all of Rey's willpower not to start in shock, though he wasn't able to stop his eyebrows rising in surprise. Well, well well. Just what was this? A small clink sounded beside him, and he turned to see Micah holding a tray of mugs. She seemed a little surprised as well, and more than a little amused. So, she hadn't told him then. Still this was one hell of a coincidence, and he was going to get to the bottom of this. Which meant Ruzekiel would have to stay ignorant for the time being. Locking eyes with Micah, Rey grinned and winked at her, his eyes flicking briefly to the unaware bard. She seemed to understand, smiling as she took his empty mug, and handed him a new one. She'd keep his secret, or so Rey hoped. The nameless woman spoke up for the first time since Rey had joined them, answering in the negative. He bit back a laugh when she asked if they were monster or people. Both, he thought to himself. Far more than you might imagine. Still, she knew nothing. So this was between him and the bard then. Ruzekiel didn't know about him, it seemed, or if he did, it was in some other way. Could Ruzekiel have the Sense too? It seemed a bit far fetched, and he doubted this particular human would be able to keep it to himself if he did. Then again, it could be an act. Hmm. He'd keep that in mind, Rey decided, but assume right now Ruzekiel was nothing more than he appeared to be. So, why was he talking about Dhani now? He didn't know enough to answer that question yet. How to react? Well, the best lies were based on truth, or so he'd heard. Couldn't hurt to try. "Have I heard of Dhani?" He grinned widely, taking a deep draught from his mug for courage. "I spent some time in Ahnatep in my travels. It'd be impossible not to know about them. Why do you ask?"

[Ruzekiel Soren]

“Why do you ask?" Zeke thought back to the one Dhani he’d ever seen and smiled a little. “I met one once, and they make for good company. Terrifying, but good company. Micah, pass that ale here wouldja? Thank you.” As he took a sip from the mug he caught Micah snickering out of the corner of his eye. “What?” He asked. She just smiled and left to tend to another group of travelers. That was odd. He shrugged and turned back to the two others. He had begun to notice a few similarities between the two. They seemed friendly enough but their faces were guarded, and Zeke wondered briefly whether they were who they said they were, but his brain was getting a wee bit foggy already, so he didn’t linger too much on the thought. This time he addressed the woman. “Dhani are a race, but I don’t think they’re monsters, specifically. Although I do not doubt that they could rip open your throat if you crossed them.” He couldn’t help but shudder at the thought. Zeke did not particularly like snakes, and he hadn’t since one of his brothers put a big one down the back of his shirt when he was a kid. Still, Dhani were truly fascinating creatures from what little he understood. He turned to Rey and asked a question he’d been thinking about for a while after his run-in with the herbalist. “So what are they like, really? Are they as bloodthirsty and cruel as people say?” He hoped the rumors he’d heard about Dhani were untrue, but it was always best to be cautious around a creature so dangerous, just in case he ever came into contact with a not so nice one, what with the fangs and poison and what-not. Especially considering what he found himself saying next. “Look, I’ve heard they congregate in their real forms in the garden of no return. I was going to go exploring there a few years ago to...uh, to look for someone, but there’s no way I’d venture into such a place on my lonesome.” He grinned brightly and was about to put a jovial hand on each of their shoulders, but thought better of it. These two didn’t seem like overly touchy types. “Now that you two are here, want to go Dhani-hunting?” He stopped and had to correct himself there, “Well, not actually...hunting, hunting, I mean, well, looking for. Exploring. Watching? No, they’re a race, not...er...objects of undefinable terror, what am I saying..” At one point Micah had returned to their little cluster and was now standing behind Zeke’s chair trying to hold back a chortle. Apparently watching the bard make himself uncomfortable and dig himself into holes was a common pastime. She took advantage of the awkward silence to refill his mug while he flashed her a thankful look. He took a deep draught of the stuff and leaned forward conspiratorially, eyes agleam as his courage was rekindled for a spell. “So, you two wanna go exploring?" Micah heard this from a few tables away and called out, "You better not be thinking of leaving before the night's drinking song, Porkchop!" Zeke's eyes widened and he flushed. "Excuse me," he said, leaving Rey and mystery girl there for a minute as he got up to talk to Micah. After a few heated whispers and a stern but gentle shove, Zeke came back rubbing his arm and picked up his lute. "Time to appease the drunkards," Zeke said cheerfully, strumming a practice chord before he made his way to the firepit and launched into a short, jaunty tune. He found that the evening crowd enjoyed this one even more than the bawdier selections for its twangy strums and plucks, and of course the lyrics, which Zeke gestured for everyone to participate in. By the time he'd finished the song, everyone was still haphazardly singing it, mushing the lyrics together like ground beef. Zeke smiled and stepped off the firepit wall, making his way back to the two in the corner. "Sorry about the noise," he said, sliding his lute back into the case and sitting back down,a little more relaxed after that festive number. He leaned backward and pressed his fingers together in a temple formation and regarded Rey and...Nise. Yes, that was it. Nise. That had been bothering him for a long while. "My offer still stands," he said, raising an inquisitive eyebrow.

[Aislyn Leavold]

Reysin Ekans and Ruzekiel Soren. Two strange men Aislyn had barely introduced herself to. In a way, it was almost unfair. She knew much about them, yet they knew next to nothing about her.
She liked it that way.

As the chatter went on, Lyn kept fiddling with the locket, though this time she kept an ear out for the conversation. As the trinket popped open and shut, revealing the tiny pictures inside, Aislyn heard the new man- Rey, he called himself, explain how he had been to Ahnatep, and how he had seen these Dhani while there. Her curiosity peaked again at the mention of new places, but Aislyn felt that if she kept quiet, her thoughts would be rewarded. Unfortunately, they were not.
Instead, drinks were passed around. Lots and lots of drinks.

Aislyn’s mug still sat empty beside her, but she really was in no mood for ale, or a drink of any kind, really. The events of the night had made her stomache swirl, and, even though the ride was over, eating was out of the question. No, tonight was a night for a clear mind, and a clearer memory. It was obvious something interesting would happen, though what, Lyn couldn’t be certain. In any light, she intended to stick around to be a part of this adventure.

Which, incidentally, was exactly what Ruzekiel offered.
The man was obviously not thinking right- The half-drunken mug of ale in his hand was proof of that- so, of course, he suggested what all drunkards looking for adventure suggested. Running into the Garden of No Return. It was called such for a reason, didn’t he know? No Return meant No Return. That is, unless you were Aislyn.

Ever since her marking, Aislyn had wanted to venture into the garden, just to experience just how much Ionu’s illusions could mess with her, and just how much her god favoured her. Surely he wouldn’t let her die in the garden, though death would probably be the least of her concerns. She had heard rumours of people venturing in, only to come out days, seasons, years later, their mind a wreck. Lost in her thoughts, Aislyn began mumbling under her breath. Sanity went in, but it didn’t come out…
”...just like mother.”

Petch had she said that aloud?

Flicking her head up to look around, checking to see who might have heard her, Lyn found that half her company had disappeared, the other half was downing a mug of ale. Confusing, the woman looked around for the second misadventurer, only to find the answer in the noise. The bard, was to be found in the sets of notes being flung through the evening air. The man was standing on the firepit ledge again, playing a bawdy song, lyrics included, to the crowd.

Aislyn gave him credit for doing his job, but hai, did the crowd have to react so loudly? She could barely hear herself think, though strangely, she heard Ruzekiel’s offer loud and clear.
My offer still stands.

He wasn’t joking around with his ‘Adventure’. If anything, this was the most serious Aislyn had seen him. He really wanted to venture into this garden of doom. He was absolutely, positively, petching crazy.
Aislyn liked it.

”I’m up for an… Adventure, as you called it. If you really want to go…” Knowing her response was final, Aislyn swallowed her sensibility and went with it. ”I’m in.”