Capture the Totem

Outside the weather is unseasonably terrible. A light rain has forced many folks indoors and that's no different here. The main difference is that once people hit the doors of the Ox-Strength they seem to forget about the world outside and get to drinking. There's a new ale on the shelves that's part of the popularity. The alcohol is listed on the board as being called 'Worg', which the oruch in the tavern seem to find in good jest if their drinking of it is any indication.

It seems a popular favorite in fact, partially because its cheap, and partially because it's strong, and at least somewhat because it actually tastes like something you'd want to put in your mouth.

Sitting in one corner near the fireplace (which is lit but down to coals due to the heat of the many bodies in the room), is a tall Stormgardian man with black hair pulled from his handsome, masculine features. He wears simple enough clothing, and his silver-gray eyes glint in the dim lighting as he drinks heavily. Telling boastful stories to those who are willing to listen. Which given the drink flowing is a fair number of folks.

There's two half-elves that have entered the tavern that they wouldn't ordinarily be caught dead in. The female half of the pair wears a knee-length black dress that looks comfortable for a summer day, but the somewhat unseasonable color is paired with a dour frown as she holds a large scroll in her arms and tacks it to the wall where everyone else's messages, scrawlings, advertisements, etc, has ended up. Who knows if the people running the place even care that it's there, but it's there.

"LOST WHITE RAVEN FAMILIAR, ANSWERS TO THE NAME POTHY, HAS BLUE EYES, LOVES SNACKS" is on the scroll in bold letters, followed by a passable drawing of the lovable creature, and directions to bring the lost familiar to the Society for Progressive Arcanists for a monetary reward.

"It's either this or he just... decided to stay there," Cor'lana murmurs to herself, violet eyes staring at her poster.

By all accounts, or at least the accounts the Verna researched, the Ox-Strength is less associated with quality spirits and moreso with inebriated violence, severe gastrointestinal distress, and defenestration. As of late, however, this seems to have changed with the appearance of a new concoction. This last is gleaned by simple observation in the past few minutes following her seeking of cover from the precipitation. She is currently dressed for the expected weather in a light, bright sundress in a pastel shade of pink. Cor'lana and Telamon are noted, with the former's frown (and content of the posting) drawing something of one from herself, as well. Still, she lifts a hand to the pair in greeting.

For his part, Telamon has been buying eyes throughout the city. A pouch of silver, with the offer of gold to match, if the white raven is found. He's only had to threaten two people who thought they were funny by offering directions to the temple of Navos. There's a look in his eyes, one that says, 'I'm not in the mood for foolishness', as he pushes his hood back.

"I don't think so. Remember, he's bound by his nature as a familiar. Also, time is very strange crossing between Quelynos and Ea; he may be... for lack of a better term, caught in traffic." His lips turn down in a sour expression. "I just hope he's all right."

Sora doesn't usually make her way to the Ox, but someone did tell her that she had to try the new ale and so she has found her way there. The small Eldanar lass makes her way in. She still has her breastplate on, but mostly she often forgets she has the mithril thing, so used to its light weight she is. The hilt of her greatsword sticks up over the one shoulder, the weapon almost bigger than the girl is. Luckily it doesn't drag on the ground as she moves. She makes her way to get herself one of these ale's.

Sometimes, when it rains, it pours. Today it isn't *literally* pouring but it's still bad enough that plenty of people don't want to be out in it.

Judging by the vigor which she enters the tavern with, the Veyshanti woman who just barged in is one of them. Her over-robe and her headwrap are drenched and she is trying very hard to get the water out of both of them. At least she didn't decide to wear her chain mail, because the last thing she wants to do is spend an hour getting the rust out of it and then making sure the colour is intact.

Sherine is also complaining to herself, though fortunately for everybody not very loudly, and she quits it when she manages to brush her hair back into place and make her headwrap at least not drippy.

Dirk is seated by the fire, his expression dour and his posture scrunched. He's been scraping the bowl of his pipe for a half hour now. If he's not careful, there won't be anything left of the bowl for him to scrape. But his gaze is riveted on the fire. The mug of ale at his elbow is untouched. Even his owl Lulu seems upset. She hop-hop-hops back and forth, head tilting and fluffing to try and get her master's attention. When Lana and Tealmon enter, her head twists around. Her wide eyes blink, and she ruffles her feathers, before winging over to them. She lands on Lana's shoulder. Hop hop. "Hoo! Hoo-hoo!"

The man by the fire lets out a booming laugh. "Another drink for my friends!" He calls to the bartender who nods and sends out another round of drinks to the ourch who have the man surrounded. They cheer noisily and he gets back to his latest story. "So then of course, I lift the horse!" They laugh and he motions as if gingerly lifting a horse.

"Boy was I glad that the horse didn't spook!" He laughs and they chuckle at the imaginary image of a horse being particularly unhappy being lifted off the ground. "That's when this wee slip of a girl comes along and challenges me to arm wrestle! You should have seen her! Weilding this huge sword but I'd be surprised if she could actually fight with the thing!"

GAME: Lysos rolls fortitude: (19)+9: 28
GAME: Lysos rolls 1d3: (2): 2
GAME: Sora rolls Fortitude: (2)+3: 5

Cor'lana raises a brow as she looks in the direction of the black-haired man by the fire. She leans into Telamon a moment and asks, "You think he's actually telling the truth, or is it being edited by the drink? Furthermore, who's he trying to impress? And why?"

The owl on Cor'lana's shoulder gets a smile and a pat. "Hi, Lulu," she says. "I guess your master must be here, too, huh?"

"Good day to you both," Verna greets Cor'lana and Telamon as she approaches the pair. "All is well enough for the moment, I trust?" They are not the only familiar faces nor patrons noted, with Lulu drawing her attention to owl and the dour Dirk perch. She lifts a hand to that pair in greeting, followed by a repeat to Lysos (though not so much as to interrupt her fortune with the dice) as well before the vocal Stormguardian and oruch entourage subsequently draw some attention.

Sora glances around a bit, over towards the man and his oruch fans. She gets and pays for her drink before looking for a good place to sit to try this new ale she heard about. She takes a good sip as she glances around.

Telamon looks over at the dark haired braggart as well. "Who knows? You pour a few drinks into some folks, before long they'll be telling you all about how they once wrestled Angoron at the summit of the highest mountain in Am'shere. It happens." He jerks slightly as Lulu suddenly lands on Lana's shoulder. "What the... friend of yours?" he asks Cor'lana.

At Verna's greeting, he offers a small smile. "Fair to middling, Mourner. The weather's bad, and Lana and I are putting up 'have you seen me' posters." He rubs his face with one hand, the other going around Lana reflexively. "It's... not been easy."

Sherine finishes getting herself as dry as she's going to get without waiting, but she still feels kind of soggy; wearing layers of clothes, all of which are more set up to protect her from the sun than anything else, isn't great for that.

Fortunately, there is a convenient fire, and Sherine doesn't know anybody else here to distract her - she checked, glancing around the area first. People, pets, posters... she doesn't know any of them. She heads firewise instead, just in time to hear the end of the last story.

"Tell me again about the girl with the sword and why you didn't think she could fight with it," Sherine asks, her voice more amused than anything else but the smile showing less humor than it otherwise might. As she is 5'2 in boots and has a sword, she may be personally biased against anyone who tells *that* story. (Though, to be fair, she wouldn't offer to arm-wrestle him either - she'd probably lose.)

Mostly she just wants to sit near the fire to finish drying off though.

Sherine gets a glance from the man telling his story and he holds up a hand. "No offense meant, just that she swung it around a bit and didn't seem to rightly know what she was doing. Though with a sword that size I suppose it is largely 'pointy in goes in the enemy' aye?" He laughs good-naturedly before continuing his story. "Anyways, we get down to it and I have to admit she was a fair foe! Gave me a run for my money for a bit! But like all the rest she fell."

He grins and the men around him nod in approval. One of them pipes up and says. "Is she the one that tried to steal your good-luck charm?"

The man nods solemnly. "Her and her dwarven friend. Them and I think that there was a pink-and-black-haired woman with them too. She tried to convince me to give it up but really! Some people are just not right in the head my friends."

Lysos pauses shaking the dice to grin at Verna... the two half-elves she doesn't bother further, particularly now that a big owl has gotten all up in their space. When she gets ready to throw, one of the people at her table coughs, and points. "Hah! I forgot. Sorry!" She sets the dice down, then grabs the tankard and starts drinking. As the others chant lowly at her table, low enough that the words aren't likely heard.. though the intent is clear (Drink! Drink! Drink!) she gets as much down in one breath as she can. Then she slams it down on the table, scoops the dice back up...

And gets bumped from behind just as she throws. The dice go flying with inexplicable speed... One member at the table tries to reach for one of them, but succeeds only in smacking it, deflecting it in another direction. Lysos's tankard goes sliding away as well.. though her neighbor is a bit quicker on the snatch than the dice grabber and manages to stop it from falling over the edge.

Lulu headtilts, then twists her head around to regard Telamon. "Hoo!" She looks back to Lana, fluttering her wings. "Hoo hoo!" She hops off and wings her way back over to Dirk. The old dwarf just looks miserable. Eyebrows drooping, his face full of sorrow. "I know Lulu. I lost it. He took it from me like candy from a babby," he mutters. "Oh, what'll become of us -now-? I failed -everyone-. We're -doomed-."

GAME: Lysos rolls fortitude: (10)+9: 19

Sora finds a seat and listens to the story herself as she continues to take drinks from her tankard. She does shift the way she sits though, her greatsword making it difficult to sit sometimes.

"Yeah, that's Lulu," Cor'lana murmurs to Telamon regarding the owl. "She belongs to Dirk--who, oh hey, that's him over there... Sorry Verna, I gotta go see what's up, talk in a moment."

She follows Lulu as she wings over to Dirk, frowning as she overhears what happened. "Dirk, you look awfully upset. Someone... took something from you?" Cor'lana asks as she approaches Dirk. "Do you know who it was? Where? Maybe Telamon and I can do something about it." Of course she volunteers Telamon to help her. It's just part of her thinking these days.

It's not like Telamon would say no. Although he'd joke about being drafted, it's clear Lana and he are a package deal. As he approaches the older dwarf, he slips easily into the sharp, precise syllables of Khazdul. "What troubles you so, elder? Set your hammer down, it's better used on metal than on yourself."

Tel smiles broadly, switching back to Tradespeak. "Any friend of Lana's is a friend of mine, sir. Please, feel free to unburden yourself."

Sherine seems to accept this answer, and relents in her irritation.

"Well, you could ask an expert," Sherine says, tilting her head towards Sora - yes, she saw her, she saw that giant sword. Sherine's is much shorter than that; even she wouldn't know what to do with a sword that size. "I would rather have something with a bit of control." Her hand rests, momentarily, on the sash holding up her scimitar.

She definitely isn't going to interrupt the drinking game or butt in on whatever the elves-with-bird are talking about. Of course, she hasn't gotten a drink yet of her own; maybe she's deciding what she wants. She can count the number of Alexandrian taverns she's been in on one hand.

Maybe that's why she's looking around so much.

Verna's expression flickers dour anew as she nods to Telamon. "I understand. I regret that I cannot do more at present, save to assure you that he will return." She follows Cor'lana's movement to Dirk, though does not have time to parse his comment, much less make a follow-up inquiry; her head and focus swivel around to the boastful horse-lifter. Her feet follow as she approaches the oruch entourage. "A syldanyari with pink and black hair, perhaps?" she now inquires, brows lifting. "I hold, on good authority, that such individuals are exceptionally wise. Might I inquire as to your charm and what manner of fortune it brings you?"

Dirk looks up, blinking like his owl friend. "Oh. Master Telamon, Miss Cor'lana." He looks down at his pipe--now as clean and spotless as the day he first carved it--and sets it aside with a mournful sigh. "The totem. I lost it. I had it in me hand, an' that great yuge ox of a man took it from me. He wouldn't -lissen- tae me!" He rubs his face. "They're all that's keepin' Caracoroth chained up, an' I let it get away from me." Lulu hop-hop-hops on Dirk's shoulder, leaning over to tap his cheek with her beak. When he looks at her, she twists her head around to regard the large storyteller, fluttering her wings. "Hoo!" Dirk blinks, then looks the direction she does. His eyes get wide and he points. "-Him-! Him right there!"

Sora rubs at her head a little and blinks a few times. She does notice the look at them smiles to Sherine as she catches a few words, "Oh, ya should see me dance with my baby." she giggles and fumbles over her words a little. She looks at her tankard and shrugs a bit as she takes another sip. She seems to be starting to be under the influence of the ale.

The man stands up, taking one of the fresh tankards and offering it to Sherine. "Here. I agree with you. I like a weapon with good control. Personally..." He pulls out a short rod that looks like little more than a stick but the way he handles it says it's a weapon at least in his hands. "This is my weapon of choice where I can't use my hands you know?"

He grins and tucks the weapon back where it came from. "Come, have a drink with us!" Then and only then does he turn his attention on Verna, his expression becoming a bit more firm. "Yea I think she was an elf. As for the charm? It's just a good luck charm. Something I came across whilst adventuring with some companions." He shakes his head. "And if that woman is a friend of yours you'd best watch yourself. I don't know for sure that she meant to steal it from me? But it sure seemed like her friends wanted to."

Her dice are lost! What will she do now? Some of the folks at Lysos's table start raising their voices. Accusations about her not holding her drink to losing the dice on purpose start getting thrown at her. She does her best to calm their anger, though does sneak in another long, long drink from her tankard once it's been returned to her. "I'll find them!" she promises. A tall order. The tavern is rather busy and the dice, they are little things. And while the luck of none of them actually hitting anyone is at a glance a good thing, it also means Lysos can't look for angry people for clues on where they've gone.

The tsura sorcerer pushes her chair back, then grabs the table to steady herself before pushing off into the crowd to look for the errant dice. "Excuse me!","Coming through!","Hey, you seen any dice?","Blurrrrrrrrrp!"

She ends up near the strong man and the crowd of oruchs, and Verna and Sherine, waving her tankard at them. "Hey.. I seem to have lost... um... something..."

GAME: Lysos rolls fortitude-2: (4)+9+-2: 11

Cor'lana's eyes widen as she looks over at the man, then she looks back at Telamon. She leans into his ear and says, "Okay. How are we doing this? The old pixiedust and stardust combo to open things up? Dirk's a trustworthy guy, and if it's related to all of /that/ business... We need to get it back like, right now."

She leans back from Telamon and looks back to Dirk. "Say no more. We're on it."

Telamon's eyes, by contrast, narrow as he stares at the man, his gaze probing, examining. "Let's try soft option first. We've got Verna here as well, so if we need to throw some weight around we're covered -- and if the Watch picks us all up, so much the better." His voice is just as quiet as Lana's, as he taps his fingers. "But you're not wrong. The totems have to be secured."

Smoothly, Tel steps away from Lana, towards the dark haired man. "I say, sir, I am acquainted with the elven lady in question. And I think you are speaking out of turn about her in such a way." He folds his arms. "Are you sure it grants good luck, in any case? I've seen more than one 'good luck' charm turn out to be a terrible millstone upon some poor fellow."

GAME: Telamon rolls sense motive+3: (18)+13+3: 34

"Well, if you are offering," Sherine says, brightly. Never mind before - maybe she was waiting to be offered a drink. That's what happens at gathering taverns, right? Right.

A club is hardly what Sherine thinks of as graceful, but if it works for him she can only think of it as a little crude. He doesn't seem nearly as elegant in battle as she does, anyway - just to look at him.

Accepting the drink, she takes a slight sip and nearly coughs on it, because the number of times she has had ale (as opposed to wine, or something else entirely) can be counted on one hand. Still, now she has it. "What did you lose?" she asks, when she has a tankard waved at her. "Because I just got here, I am sad to say, and I am unlikely to have had a chance to find it, ha ha!"

Verna steps aside a half-step to allow Lysos to move as she will; either something is afoot, or the Tsuran might be imminently regurgitating (in which case Verna does not wish such to land upon her own afoot). When Telamon approaches and speaks, she nods her assent to the Stormguardian. "Indeed. There are innumerable magical items in circulation that appear benign or boon, yet are wholly insidious. One could well gain some trivial benefit at the cost, perhaps unknowingly, or their health, life, or very soul."

GAME: Sherine rolls Fortitude: (5)+2: 7

The man turns his attention from Verna to Telamon, drawing himself up to his full height. It seems that Telamon has actually managed to insult him a little. "You know that's what the dwarf said. You're friends of theirs aren't you." Looking from Verna to Telamon. "I don't care if it's _cursed_. I'm keeping it. It's mine."

There's a general consensus of approval from the orcs listening intently to the conversation taking place. One of them glances at Lysos, but everyone else is focused on the conversation. "Show it to 'em Zalgiman!" One of them pipes up and the man shakes his head.

"Give them another chance to steal it? I think not! Have a drink and enjoy the stories, but I'm not giving up my token." This last is to Telamon and Verna.

"Umm..." Lysos looks deeply into her tankard as she sways a little bit... something there has caught her undivided attention. For all of three seconds. Then she gives a little shake. "Dice!" she says, finally answering Sherine. Then she stops, her eyes widening as the crowd around the boastful man with the good luck talisman grows, with Telamon adding himself to the mix. "A good luck charm? I could... bluuuuuuurp... sure use one of those! Ask anyone!"

Telamon stares back at the man. Despite being over a head shorter, there's no sign of give in the half-elf's face. "Indeed. I did say I was acquainted with the lady in question. But then... you knew that already." Casually, Tel picks up one of the newly-poured tankard. "And considering the nature of these things... the nightmares they cause... you seem curiously unworried about such dangers."

The half-elf's fingers gesture idly over the lip of the tankard. "Do you know what you carry, Zalgiman? Do -they- know?" he tilts his head to the orcs gathered around.

GAME: Telamon casts Detect Poison. Caster Level: 9 DC: 16

Cor'lana... has an idea. An idea that she's only tried once before.

She pulls down the front of her dress a little, exposing some of the feather mark that adorns her chest, but more importantly exposing some of her skin. She walks forward and she gestures subtly to Telamon, "Pretend you don't know me. I'm going to try what I did with Rafael on this guy." <Handspeech>

The sorceress smiles sweetly at this man. "Hi! Wow, what a big, strong, handsome guy you are. Let's talk."

Dirk shrinks down and away as Telamon and Lana go to start engaging the giant Zalgiman. The old dwarf wants none of that. He tried his very best, and it wasn't enough. Lulu, however, seems less than impressed with the larger man. She draws herself up tall and skinny, narrowing her eyes as she hisses. Beware, Zalgiman, for you have courted the wrath of the vampirowl.

Sherine's brow furrows. "Dice? I can't say I have any! And if this is a roundabout way of telling me you want me in a game, well, perhaps after I finish drying off!" That is, after all, why she gravitated to the fire in the first place.

She takes another sip - she coughs less on this one, it seems to agree with her more. There are people yelling at the person in question; Sherine doesn't know Telamon and she isn't sure what he's talking about, but she watches it, almost like it's a show rather than something that applies to her personally.

Sora has forgotten her drink for the moment, which is probably a good thing as she just watches and listens. She might be missing a few words here and there, but a few people do look familiar. She is trying to focus on what they are talking about, but its hard to keep her mind on one thing at the moment...hey was that a squirrel?..Wait whom was she watching.

GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Diplomacy: (1)+17: 18 (EPIC FAIL)

"Regardles of whether -he- knows," Verna notes to Telamon, pausing as she notes Cor'lana's arrival to the conversation; not to mention her decolletage. Due to the artistic design thereupon, of course. Back to Telamon, "if his tale is any indication, a fair portion of the city well knows of it. He should be less concerned with those inquiring and more those who would take it from his corpse."

Enter Cor'lana. Zalgiman blinks at her and looks like he has been hit between the eyes with a very lovely hammer. "WOW." He stutters and draws himself up even bigger and taller. Grinning at Telamon in a competitive sort of way. The oruch are... well she's not an oruch so maybe that's why they don't seem impressed? Zalgaiman however sidles up to Cor'lana and gives her a toothy grin. "Hey there. Ah... How you doin?"

Smooth operator that he is!

Telamon restrains the sudden urge to start experimenting with his spells. Yes, Lana did warn him, and yes, he's seen her play this card before. Still doesn't keep him from bristling, just a tiny bit. To shift his focus, he puts the tankard down (mentally reminding himself not to drink that, dear gods), letting Lana make her play.

His eyes flick to Verna's, and his fingers shift in the patterns of Handspeech, "She's a lady of many talents, and I admit it's rather amusing to watch her wrap him around her finger this way."

Cor'lana giggles a little in that way that everyone even remotely attracted to girls wishes they would when they talk to them. She wraps a curl of her hair around one of her fingers and looks at him through half-lidded eyes. "Hee hee, I'm doing okay~" she says cloyingly. "It'd be better if I got to see what all this fuss was about. I mean, is that a good luck charm in your pants, or are you happy to see me?"

She gives him a wink. "If it impresses me, maybe we can leave this place together, hotshot."

Sora is still trying to figure out exactly what is going on. At least she stopped drinking and isn't getting any worse. She blinks a few times and cocks her head to the side.

Sherine is also momentarily distracted by Cor'lana. Possibly more than momentarily.

She lets out a huff of air through her nostrils instead of saying anything - or instead of drinking, for that matter. It's hard to tell if this is irritation or amusement; she has a smile but it could be hiding something else.

Lysos, having been caught between wanting to hear more of this good luck charm, trying to see if the dice are on the floor over here.. and seeing if anyone from her table is getting too impatient. Sherine does get a grin from the Tsura. "I think there's room at the table, sure! If I can just.. Oh, there's one." She begins to stoop.. only to have the small piece of ivory kicked away. "Sod it.." she says. Then trails off. She slowly turns, wide-eyed, watching Ravenstongue. Her mouth opens.. in fact, one could almost say her jaw drops. Then she looks at Telamon, back at Ravenstongue, back at Telamon, back at Ravenstongue. And she points at the dark haired sorcerer. "But... aren't you.. and he... "

Verna could continue to expound on the dangers the Stormguardian's possession and public boasting likely subject him to. This would be counterproductive to Cor'lana's ... diplomatic efforts, however. As well, Verna is uncertain the large man would pay herself much mind at this juncture. Instead, she observes the process (possibly making mental notes) and makes a brief casual gesture primarily for Telamon's benefit. "Indeed. I should converse with her more often."

Then there is Lysos' sudden comment and pointing. That could prove detrimental, thus Verna attempts to intervene improvisationally and/or impulsively. She slips an arm around Telamon's waist and leans into his side.

Improv may not be her forte. <handspeech>

Zalgiman grins at Cor'lana. "Oh, this is _all_ me." He winks at her broadly and runs a hand over his own chest before bending over hurriedly and digging into his pack for... Yep. It's one of those terrible little figurines that some of you recognize at this point. It's a twisted thing, warped like someone mid-transformation and seemingly made out of wood. He shows it off proudly and leans in to whisper to Cor'lana.

Dirk looks over at Lysos, his eyes bugging out. He makes a franting, jerking slashing motion at his throat. "Cht! Cht!" Is he making a call for some kind of thing that goes 'cht!' in the night? Lulu, for her part, remains in her vampirowl shape, glaring daggers at Zalgiman, click-clacking her beak. She will not rest until vengeance is had for her poor put-upon master. The vampirowl -knows-.

Telamon gives Lysos a stare, trying to mentally communicate, 'Shutupshutup don't screw this up for her' with his eyes. No idea if he succeeded. But at least Cor'lana's getting somewhere, and -- yep, it's one of those gods-be-damned statues.

When Verna sidles up to him to keep Lysos's comment from gaining ground, he blinks, but he's canny enough to -not- pull away, instead settling his arm around Verna's shoulders. His fingers dance in practiced motions, "Please don't tell Auranar. I like her cooking too much and I'd hate for her to be annoyed with me." His eyes now follow the totem, like a man watching a venomous snake.

GAME: Lysos rolls sense motive: (19)+7: 26

Cor'lana giggles again in that coquette's manner. "Oooh, I bet you /are/ wild," she says. "Can I hold it? I just want to /feel/ it." She puts a finger to her mouth as she continues that flirtatious giggle, leaning in a little to make sure his vision stays right on two very good reasons to give her the statue. (Okay, they're not really that impressive, but he seems to think they are.)

And just to kill any hesitation on his part, she sweetly coos, "Come on big boy, please? I'll do /anything/ you want." A little eyelash flutter.

Sherine had been going with the flow pretty well.

The figurine being shown off proudly is a bit of a shock. "What the hell is that," she says, startled from whatever she was thinking about. "Goddess, it's ugly."

No, she doesn't recognize it, beyond being bad art. She's allowed to recognize it as that.

When the mourner starts getting handsy with Telamon, Lysos's eyes.. well, one wouldn't have thought it possible for them to get wider. But they do. It's almost possible to see the brain short-circuiting for a moment. It restarts with her gasping. And looking immediately around for Auranar. Because this would be the moment the absentee lover would arrive, and this whole situation, at least in Lysos's mind, has reached fiction levels of absurdity. Dirk's strange sounds draw her attention, and she looks at him strangely... then catches Telamon looking at her rather intently. So intently she takes a step back. And then... it's almost like a eureka moment. "Oooooooh." She clicks her tongue, and winks at them. "Right. I'm not judging, don't worry! To each their own!"

Maybe Lysos didn't get quite the right message.

Verna may have only suspected or feared the nature of his token, as she had only context and not Dirk's full tale. Now that the Stormguardian has whipped it out for all to see, however... She attempts to not scowl and maintain a neutral composure, turning to Telamon when that may fail. Her free hand moves to his chest, if just to put it more easily in his view to gesture. "She is more rational and wise than ireful. Typically." After imparting that quasi-assurance, she adds a quick, "Do we act? If so, when?" Which could very well resemble an inquiring gesture between the two of them and then a point elsewhere for those not learned in the finer arts of gestures. <handspeech>

The man looks confused a moment. "Don't you think-OH! The statue!" He flushes, clearly at least a little enebrated. Or maybe he's not as brash as he's pretending to be. "Sure! Just for a moment." He offers the little figurine to her and stares. NOT at the statue. He's a little distracted.

Cor'lana smiles quite genuinely as she takes the figurine from the man and holds it up into the light, leaning back. "Oooooh!" she says, with a giggle. "It's so pretty--"

And then she takes a step 'back'. And she 'tumbles'. And it goes flying into the air into the direction of her friends and her poor fiance, who's had to endure this performance.

Cor'lana is grinning from ear to ear as she falls. "Go get it," she murmurs quietly to herself.

It appears the poet has a career as an actress in the making.

GAME: Telamon rolls reflex: (18)+6: 24
GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Bluff: (19)+14: 33

It's like something out of the stories. Telamon standing with Verna, one arm around her... and then the other shoots out, and grabs the statue out of the air easily. "Whoops!" He offers Zalgiman a cheeky grin. "Let's have a little race, shall we?" His arm comes off of Verna, and he gestures deftly. "Lukas, sa i'iz!" A flash of silvery light limns him, then jumps to Verna, Cor'lana, Dirk, even Lysos. Movements quickening, as the sorcerer whirls and races for the door like his life depends on it (which it probably does).

GAME: Telamon casts Haste. Caster Level: 9 DC: 19

Verna blinks. One moment she is watching a ... mistress at work, and the next that horrid totem is hurtling her way. This promptly conjures up recollections of impalement by a near-identical relic. It was unpleasant to say the least. Fortunately, Telamon's hands are quick as well as big and strong. Her hero!

A moment later, he has released her, invokes magic, and it appears that a race of some sort is, indeed, begun. Presuming that Zalgiman even notices anything other than Cor'lana's ta-ttoos.

GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+12: (6)+12: 18
GAME: Verna casts Greater Angelic Aspect. Caster Level: 19 DC: 25
GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+12-8: (10)+12+-8: 14
GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+24: (10)+24: 34

"Grab him!" Yells the man, growling low in his throat, and one of the ourch by the door leaps up and does just that. Grabbing Telamon by the edge of his shirt and pulling him up a little. The ourch looks surprised to have acted, but he doesn't immediately drop Telamon. Instead he keeps ahold of the sorcerer whilst Zalgiman marches toward him.

Verna mumurs something under her breath, and suddenly Telamon's shirt tears. Releasing the man, but the words draw the man's attention - to Verna. He hoists her up by her collar and glares down at her. "You helped him get away. Who was he? Tell me or me and my friends will tear this place apart."

The ugly statuette gets tossed, grabbed - and run. Sherine still doesn't know what it represents - she just got in Alexandria two days ago, and it simply hasn't come up in the circles she runs in.

And then

"Hey!" Sherine bounds back to her feet, and then higher - she hops up onto a table so she can see even further. "What on Ea is going on around here?"

She reaches toward her sword, spinning it into the air, catching it on the way down and pointing it toward the man gripping Verna. "Please put her down," Sherine says, sweetly. "I do not know who she is or who you are or what is going on here, but I will not have my first drink in Alexandria ruined by - " She waves her non-scimitar-holding hand in a wide arc.

GAME: Lysos rolls 1d20+12+9+1: (20)+12+9+1: 42

Sora growls and starts to stand up, suddenly feeling angry and not knowing why. There is a problem though. She isn't exactly sober and she forgets for a moment that she was sitting just right so that her greatsword doesn't get caught in her chair, and well with her sudden standing...It does get caught and down goes the woman, tangled up in her chair and greatsword, knocking her drink over at the same time spilling what remained.

"Hey, one of my dice!" Lysos exclaims, kneeling and bending forward just as Telamon's magic falls upon the chosen few. Thanks to the haste, she actually manages to snatch this one before it gets kicked away like the other.. but she's not quick enough to rise again before Telamon has sprinted off, and Verna is being suspended in the air. And Telamon is gone. "Rude!" And she's so confused. But Verna is a friend, so she turns about, gathers the latent power in the room.. and then channels it through her foot as she stomps on the tavern's floor. "Krak!" The floorboards under Verna's assailant buck and ripple, toppling the man down. "No means no, jerk!" she says, her voice heated.. though in reality, her anger isn't focussed on the fellow on the floor. Which is even more confusing. "Okay, he shouldn't have run off like that, but really!"

Cor'lana very briefly admires the view from where she is on the floor. The view of Telamon with his ripped shirt, that is. Girl's gotta appreciate the art every now and then, even if he's running away from her rapidly.

She gets up from the floor, and she looks like she's about to dart for the door when she takes a look at the man and decides to deal one last bit of psychological damage.

"That was my fiance, and also, you're fucking disgusting," she informs Zalgiman. Then she books it for the door, empowered by Telamon's quickening magic.

Dirk startles as the magic settles around him. His eyes go wide as Lulu's. Blink blink. "Oh shit, that's our cue, lassie!" he says hurriedly. He scoops up his goods and gear, clapping his tricorne over his head and grabbing his thunderbelcher. Off he goes like a shot from said thunderbelcher. NYOOM! Lulu takes wing, hooting gleefully as she finds herself accelerated. She flies in a tight circle around the tavern, making sure to aim an owl-pellet at Zalgiman's forehead before zooming after her master with a POOF!

A shame how fabric can tear. Not that Verna, nor even her Goddess for that matter are especially interested in the current application. No offense to Telamon, of course. Her own dress may be better constructed (or merely that there is so comparatively little of her within it) as she is hoisted by it. Less so when her bearer loses his footing from Lysos' stomping of foot.

"He is someone who just saved you from impending doom," she explains. "You should be grateful." She moves back away from him. "If you wish to threaten the establishment, you should speak to the proprietors." It is not her business, nor even one that she frequents, afterall.

The man hits the ground - hard. It's enough that he releases Verna, and he glowers at her. "We'll have our pound of flesh. Won't we?" There's a general growling consensus from the crowd. One that is surprisingly echoed by Sora, Sherine, and Lysos as well. There's a few confused looks in the crowd in the aftermath, but the man seems well satisfied by the response he receives. "Best run along. Unless you want to be here when the Hunt begins."

Sora works on getting herself, her chair, and her weapon up off the floor and put to rights. It does take a few moment but then she is standing and all put together again, even if a little tipsy. She glances around as she growls but does seem a bit confused too.

Telamon is out the door, leaving blurred afterimages in his wake. The quickening spell and a healthy dose of paranoia lending wings to his feet (metaphorically speaking). As he flashes away from the Ox-Strength Tavern, he glances back to see Lana racing after him, and adjusts his pace so she can catch up. "Temple of the Sky-Singer, Eluna," he says to her in Sylvan, when she's close. "Then we can decide what to do with this thing."

Confusion is still plain on Lysos's face, but she finds herself growling and nodding, and even taking another long sip from her tankard. Only to find that's the last one. For this serving, anyways. "Better go, Mourner... " she tells Verna, not sure if she's warning or suggesting. And then she perks up. Another die! She scoots to snatch it up. "Found another one! Time to get the party started again!" And then, as if the last altercation didn't even happen, she rushes back to her table again.

Cor'lana catches up to Telamon as she runs. What she doesn't expect, however, is a feathery friend flying down from the sky--

A flash of white feathers and the voice of a child that murmurs into her ear. "Lana!" Pothy says in his true voice, his tail wagging up and down. "Why are you running?"

"I just flirted with a man to get his weird magic totem that he stole from Dirk. Tel's got it. Also, that guy was a fucking creep," Cor'lana says rapidly, not stopping for breath as she just runs.

Pothy ruffles his feathers, shaking them out. "Well, glad to see things don't change much in a century," he says. "I missed you, Lana. You too, Telamon."

"Missed you too, Pothy," Cor'lana murmurs, a quick and sudden line of tears trailing down Cor'lana's cheeks and falling off her face as she runs with Telamon to the Temple of Eluna.

The mention of a hunt, specifically, nearly gives Verna pause. Nearly. It may be coincidental or she now overparses too much from the choice of verbiage, but the curiosity of it is overpowered by concern, regardless. She seeks some hint of Telamon and/or Cor'lana after she exits, considering the two all but one and the same. With any fortune, she can reconvene with them before matters become further strange, unexpected, or otherwise-

Pothy?!

-End