Tread Softly

Home of Izira Nyte and The Forgotten Layers Inn. Resting in an unnamed magical realm, the place is easier to find when lost if one is without the aid of a map drawn by the lady herself.

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Gren Blockman
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Post by Gren Blockman »

He laughed, he seemed comfortable with the idea. "I'll let you in on a secret," he offered, closing his eyes. "I have an addiction, not to what you might think, but in making others... Let me rephrase that; my emotions are so far from my reach, I get something from seeing and tasting it from others." He tilted his head. "I often spend my time making others deal with things, so I can experience it, and it is from those persons I feed from, when I can. Some of what I say I don't even believe, and I will jump onto limbs with assumptions just to see what nerves are struck. Much of what you'd think are my assumptions are actually me gaining information."

She listened, watching him. The tea cup not lifting to her lips. Quiet a while longer once he finished telling her his secret. Curiously, she asked,"And what information do you think you have gained of me with this tactic thus far?"

"Very little of merit, I'm sad to say," he said. "Though I suspect loss is what fuels most of your deterrence from some of my inquiries, not betrayal." He turned his gaze from her briefly as if to think. "You're surprisingly well adjusted, but I think perhaps it's brought you levels of apathy that even you're not finding ideal, though you're comforted by it." He turned his gaze back upon her. "Or that's my speculation so far, I'm not terribly confident in it."

A thoughtful loom, she took a sip of the tea and did not immediately respond. Setting the cup back down onto the saucer, she admitted something in turn. "Part of the reason for my solitude is to protect others from me."

"Ah, that would make sense," he tilted his head. "Someone who doesn't embrace some element of themselves, however... What curse have you? If it's not a bother to ask." He said, clearly intrigued by her admission.

"Are you inclined to tell me what you take in your drink?" Tit for tat seemed to be the current means of information exchange.

"Emotion. Strong emotion present when the blood is drawn. Negative ones are far more rich to me. Unfortunately, there was something in what you gave me that sullied what I could taste in it. There was some form of joy, muddled by something else that was far too powerful and unneeded." And there she had it.

"Now that I know what I'm looking for, it will be easier to find." She set down the tea cup on the bar and tilted her eyes across the room toward the cold hearth. A fire crackled and came to life. "I am cursed with my father's blood. An elemental's gift and one I didn't understand for a very long time. My emotions made it worse, and the gift often pushed my emotions to extremes. A fire fueling a fire."

"I see," he said as he moved to take a seat on one of the stools finally. "Ironic we should meet then, isn't it?"

"You might have enjoyed it more a very long time ago."

"Perhaps," he said. "There are more layers to me than my curses," he admitted, without admitting much of anything at all. "Perhaps we could have been of great use to one another, then."

"Perhaps", she said, noncommittal. "Depends on when you caught me." A half-smile. She chuckled softly to herself. "This is the Forgotten Layers Inn, after all."

"Indeed, very fitting, an ironic coincidence, don't you think?" He inquired with a bit of a smile, faint, but genuine seeming.

"There is little coincidence to finding your way here." She paused, looking curious again, "You do know you've left the realm of RhyDin?"

"No, I was not aware," he said with a quizzical inspection of his surroundings. "The place is somewhat... fickle about its sense of boundaries."

The grey cloaked Ranger slowly makes his way up the gravelly path to the front door of the Inn. He extends his hand and opens the door, pushing his grey hood back, and moves inside.

"You're likely to lose your way, never know where you will end up." She set the tea down and pulled out a blank piece of parchment from a drawer. Rolling it up, she tied it and closed her eyes but for a moment before turning back to the man. The rolled parchment offered to him, "This will guide you back." Looking up again as the door opened, it had been a busy day of now three whole visitors. Her smile is already in place but this time it doesn't lean toward the slight disappointment. "Gren."

He reached out and took the parchment with a smile. "Thank you," he said, setting it on the bar before him.

"Hello, Izira." He makes his way over to the bar and has a seat. He nods and smiles politely at the other man sitting there, before looking back to her. "How have you been?"

The new arrival was given a polite nod, from his place in his seat.

"I have had two guests today." A gesture of her hand for Gren to the man at the bar, "I would introduce you, but I have yet to gain his name for myself."

"Busy day! But good news. Nice to see things picking up."

"Errand." He gave out forthright, nodding his head in proper form for any introduction.

"Errand." Repeating, "This is Gren, the ranger. Gren, Errand runs an inn as well." She left off the part about Errand being an emotional vampire.

"Nice to meet you." He focused his ice blue eyes on Errand. "Glad to see Izira getting some new customers."

"Gren, do you require anything to eat or drink?"

"I would like a Broot, if you have one left."

"I'm not sure if I qualify as a customer, just yet. Wait until I pay for my drink." He offered.

"I have five left." As she didn't drink one, nor had anyone else. She moved and pulled a Broot out, opening it and setting it on the bar for Gren. Looking to Errand, "On the house."

He chuckles at Errand. "Alright then." He smiles to Izira as she serves the bottle of Broot. "Thank you." He takes a long swig from the bottle and sets it back down on the bar with a pleased expression.

"I guess I don't qualify just yet, then."

"Maybe one day you will. Although Izira is the generous type."

"She is, indeed," he said, casting a glance over his shoulder to his belongings at the table.

"Nor would Noira if you go by that." Looking from Errand to Gren, "As it turns out, I've had no customers today. Just visitors."

He grins at Izira. "Visitors is just a nice way of saying future customers." He glances around to see if the cat, Silas, is anywhere near.

The cat had been here earlier, but he left when Izira showed her visitors the library. Perhaps he would appear later. Izira sipped her tea, glancing at Errand looking to his belongings and Gren looking around the inn. A brow lifted at both of them.

He turned his gaze back upon Izira, lifting his own brow in response, uncertain to her curiosity, giving an indicative look immediately after.

He doesn't find what he's looking for, so he glances back to Izira. "You know, maybe you should have one of those buffets like you used to do at the Great Helm. To drum up some more business."

"Your belongings?" For Errand. She considered Gren's suggestion. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she responded, "That might bring me more business than I am interested in having. Perhaps a better idea for Errand's inn... that is not for owl enthusiasts."

"Owl enthusiasts? What does that mean?" He was confused.

"Someone who is very interested in owls." There was amusement in her smile.
Last edited by Gren Blockman on Tue Dec 10, 2013 6:28 pm, edited 2 times in total.
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Post by Gren Blockman »

He chuckled. "You generosity is among them," laying out the chain of thought as she inquired. He was content to let her answer about the owls.

Her understanding showed, but to clarify to Gren she filled him in, "I have lent Errand and Noira volumes from my private collection."

"Well . . . I . . . " He looks a bit embarrassed. Then her explanation of the books helps answer his question some. "So *you're* the owl enthusiast. Gotcha."

She chuckled softly and shook her head, having to tuck a strand of hair back again. "Errand's inn is called the Nocturnal Inn, but it is not an inn for owl enthusiasts as Noira suggested."

"The Inn of the Nocturnal," he clarified.

A nod to the correction.

He gives them both a bewildered look. His eyes shift back and forth for a moment. "Owl. Nighttime. Inn of the Nocturnal. Suddenly it all becomes clear to me."

"Yes," he said adding to the man's confidence.

She sips her tea, smiling into the cup.

He gives them both a cheesy thumbs up. "I can put two and two together . . . eventually." He wears a sheepish smile, before taking another drink of his Broot.

A smile to Gren's statement. The lady fell silent for the time, enjoying her tea as she might were no one there with her.

"I went to the Shanachie Theater and saw Arsenic and Old Lace, as you suggested." He says to Izira.

Gren followed her suggestion and she smiled to know that, "Did you enjoy the play?" A glance to Errand to see if he might know what they are discussing.

He was listening, but there was no indication either way, if he knew what they were discussing.

Her amber-brown eyes returned to Gren.

"Well, I kind of got the wrong impression from your description. A commited bachelor marrying a pastor's daughter led me to believe it would be a romantic comedy. Then the uhhh . . . craziness started. Like the man who thought he was Teddy Roosevelt, and was charging up the stairs, playing his bugle, and digging a lock for the Panama Canal."

Izira looks perplexed that Gren would think the play was a romance until he echoes her own words before she gave up trying to describe what he called the craziness. It dawned on her and she chuckled lightly. She looked apologetic, "You didn't like it."

"Oh, no! I didn't say I didn't like it. I just didn't expect it. You know, two old ladies poisoning people with elderberry wine." He gulps lightly and glances behind her. "You don't serve elderberry wine here, do you?"

"Only if it's requested."

"Uh huh." He gives her a slight sideways look. "Anyway, I found it to be very interesting. I'm glad everything worked out for Mortimer in the end. I don't mind a good romance every now and again." There is a slight pause. "Romantic play! Or movie. Or . . . story. Oh, you know what I mean."

A soft nod to Gren's words. "I believe the next play is a romance. It's called 'Kiss Me Kate.'"

"Oh really? What's that about? And yes, I'm aware it's about someone named Kate who has just asked to kiss someone. Or . . . Someone named Kate who has been asked *by* someone to kiss them."

"I know as much as you." Looking to Errand to include him in the conversation, she said, "Since my return to RhyDin I am trying to take in more theater."

"I was never one for the stage, though you'd think otherwise given my interests," he said. "Perhaps I'll give it another go."

"I would recommend it. Certainly." A nod, looking to Gren to confirm.

He nods and smiles. "Yes, it's not bad. I wouldn't mind going again."

And there Errand has it, a firm endorsement from Gren. Izira looked to the ranger, "Did you want dinner tonight?"

"We'll see if the interest strikes me," he mused from his seat.

"I could eat something. Uhhh . . . do you have anything special being served today?"

"I do not know that 'Kiss Me Kate' will give you what you are looking for... but when I attend this week, I will check a schedule to see if there's anything that might." She set her tea aside, "Everything I have to serve is special." Moving from behind the bar and into the kitchen, she vanished behind the door.

"I didn't mean . . . !" He gapes after her as she walks out. "Crap."

He just chuckled, the only mind he paid to the scene. He turned his gaze to the man briefly, then toward his belongings, over his shoulder, appearing to mull something over.

She remained in the kitchen as she fixed Gren up something.
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Post by Gren Blockman »

He gulps and then drinks some more Broot, mentally trying to piece together some explanation. "Of course everything you serve is special. I didn't mean anything by it." He muttered quietly to himself, then nods as if that isn't a bad defense.

Gren's response seemed to amuse him mildly. Who needed a stage, when there was life? He turned his gaze toward the kitchen.

The lady returned, carrying a large plate in one hand and the usual napkin wrapped silverware in the other. The plate set before Gren, she knew better than to offer Errand some. A 10 ounce steak, rubbed with a secret blend, and paired with asparagus.

His eyes brighten at the steak. "Alright!" His slip-up from before momentarily forgotten as he takes the silverware, placing the napkin in his lap. He leans down and sniffs the steak, giving a pleased smile. "Smells great, what'd you put on there?"

"To your liking?" She smiles, "Perhaps it is seasoning from elderberries." A tease and she chuckled, waving off his concern, "Just a simple seasoning."

Looks at her a bit dubiously, but only for a second. "Elderberries on a steak." He waves her off with a hand as if she had to be joking, then cuts off a piece of the meat and begins to chew, a happy expression on his face. "Indeed, much to my liking." He grins slightly.

He leaned with an elbow onto the bar to watch the scene now unfold.

"Would you say it's special?"

He gulps and pauses his fork in mid-air with a bit of asparagus. "Uhhh . . . Of course it's special. Everything you make is special. I was just wondering . . . if you had anything more special than usual. You know. Blue Plate Special. Special of the Day. That sort of thing." He manages a nervous, embarrassed smile.

"Why would a blue plate be special?"

He was grinning now, watching the pair. Particularly with Izira's comment, he passed her a knowing look, watching and waiting for Gren's reply.

"Good question. I don't know why a blue plate would be special. It's an expression. Like Jumbo Shrimp. How can a shrimp be jumbo? You know. Ah heh heh." He feels like he's sinking deeper into the hole.

"Because it is larger than the typical shrimp." She surely isn't helping.

"Buh . . . buh . . . but you see, a shrimp is tiny, so referring to it as Juh . . . juh . . . jumbo is . . . silly." Just like how he feels.

"Is it?" Curious look. She picked up her tea and took a sip, her smiling shining behind the drink.

"Yes. It is." He finally places the asparagus in his mouth. Rapidly shifts his eyes between Izira and his plate to see if that answered that.

Errand remained silent. This was better than any play.

A soft chuckle. Izira moved to settle into the stool behind the bar. "I do not run 'specials' here. I serve what folks desire to eat and drink." She gave a look toward Errand. "When I am able."

"I'll have to remember that in the future, then." Bit of a perturbed look to Izira, before he starts in on the steak again.

Errand gave a click of his tongue. "Perhaps you're able and perhaps my desired course isn't appropriate," he mused a tease at her.

He takes another drink of Broot and glances at Errand.

She smiled despite Gren's perturbed look. Errand's statement caught her off guard. "Perhaps." She agreed.

A thought suddenly strikes him. "Has that other fellow come back? Jeremiah he said his name was."

"... no, he must have left after you saw him."

"Huh. Seemed like a nice guy." He says absently, stuffing another bite of steak in his mouth.

"He has his moments."

"Don't we all?" He replies with a little grin. "I haven't seen Silas around either. He must be running around the garden chasing a mouse."

A small smile to everyone having their moment. In referring to the cat, she looked toward the windows. "He must." She picked up her tea again.

"So have you taken any more trips into town?"

"I haven't."

"Ah well." He finishes off his steak, and stabs his fork at the remaining asparagus spears. "Maybe you will soon. Like to see that new play."

"I have considered that a possibility."

"Well, you know . . . “he starts, then gulps mightily, "Now that I've taken an interest in the theater . . . and you want to go again . . . It might be nice if we . . . you know, went together." He risks a look at Izira.

He cast a glance out the windows, smiling to see the light dim, at best. He motion seemed a tad livelier. He is amused by where this is going, clearly so.

The tea cup pauses before her lips and lowers down to her lap. "I hope you're asking as a friend and not out of concern of my attending a play alone."

Gren gets a deer-in-the-headlights look. "I didn't mean to show concern. At you being alone. I'm sure you can handle yourself. I mean, take care of yourself. I just thought you would like some company. To enjoy the play with. As a . . . friend. A friendly outing, yes. Just friends." The nervous smile comes back.

Using his elbow to prop, he lowers his chin into his hand, looking to Izira, quietly.

She stays quiet as she thought. Her face didn't betray her concerns. The half smile shows as she inclines her head, "As friends." She recognizes she has two sets of eyes on her.

"Friends. Of course. Friends. It's not like it's a *date* or anything." He laughs lightly.

"It's not." She agreed.

"Right. So we're both in agreement." He nods solemnly.

A glance toward Errand as he seems to be enjoying himself. She takes a sip of her tea and looks to Gren's plate. "Did you get enough?"

He was, indeed. It showed. He offered little more than a warming smile when she glanced his way, opting to remain silent.

Gren has a goofy smile on his face, Izira's words don't register for a few moments, then he gets a look of surprise. "Oh! Yes! I am quite full. Thank you for the lovely meal."

"You are welcome. If you will excuse me a moment." She stood up from her stool, setting the tea down on the back counter. What dishes needed cleaning, she picked up, and carried them into the kitchen.
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Post by Gren Blockman »

Gren goes back to staring at Izira with the goofy smile. He watches her disappear into the kitchen, then he turns his head to look at Errand. He tries to compose himself, and covers it by taking a long sip of his Broot, going back to staring at the door Izira went through.

He glances back to Gren, lifting brows, as if to question what he was looking for. "Pay me no mind. This is entirely your performance."

"I'm glad I'm entertaining you." He says it with the smile on his face, though.

"Indeed, as am I." He said mirthfully, smoothly. A calm in his voice.

While Izira is away, the large tabby cat appears, jumping up from the floor and onto the bar between the two men.

He's already trying to plan out what he will wear, what he will say. He puts his elbow on the countertop and leans his chin in his hand, looking off into the distance with a dreamy sigh.

His eyes flick to the cat, without the turn of his head, as if waiting.

He's startled at the appearance of the cat. He leans back a bit, then grins. "Hey Silas. Long time no see." He gives the cat a scratch behind the ears.

Silas allows himself to be scratched. The cat flicks a lazy tail and curls up on the bar.

"You've been chasing mice around the garden, I bet. Well, you didn't miss much. Other than Izira agreeing to go see a play with me. Heh heh." There is a slight pause. "As friends." He gives a friendly wink to Silas.

An ear on the cat twitched.

"It'll be good for her. You know, get outside, spend some time with company. The theater is . . . uh . . . good for personal enrichment."

The cat's tail continued in its lazy movements.

He shrugged as the cat doesn't seem interested in his story. He goes back to drinking his Broot.

Izira returns from the kitchen, having taken her time in there. Her arrival comes with another plate, a slice of apple pie with ice cream and a fork. She sets it down before Gren. "When would you like to meet at the theater?"

"Oooh. Thank you." He glances down happily at the pie, then back at her. "Uh . . . when did you say the play started?"

"I didn't say." She paused, then she picked up her cup. "Monday through Saturday they have a night show at seven thirty. Wednesday and Saturday there is an earlier show at one thirty."

"How about the Wednesday show, at one thirty? Since, you know, it's not a date."

Izira nodded, "I will meet you in the lobby on Wednesday then."

"Sounds like a plan." He tries not to show his excitement. Instead he digs into the pie and ice cream.

"Interested in any more lettuce?” she asked Errand.

"No thank you, Izira. I'm fine. I think I'll be going soon. To open my Inn, in stubborn insistence."

He glances up from his pie to see if Errand is leaving. He looks back at his pie, popping in a few more mouthfuls.

She inclined her head, "Safe travels to you, Errand. I hope you enjoy your reading. Perhaps I will have something more suited to your taste that is also on the menu when next you visit."

He watches Errand leave, then looks back at Izira. "Interesting fellow. What kind of books did you show him?"

"My private library", she said, with a gesture toward the back of the inn.

"Oh yeah?" He follows her gesture to the back. "You do have plenty of books back there."

She inclined her head. "I do."

He finishes off the last of the pie, pushes the plate back and leans back in his stool. "Alright, *now* I am officially full. I couldn't eat another bite."

"I'll refrain from offering you seconds." She picked up the plate, rinsing it off in the sink behind the bar, then glancing to Silas laying on the counter.

"Seems like I found Silas." He grins and gives the cat another little scratch behind the ear.

"Perhaps he likes you."

"That's a good sign you know. Animals having a certain instinct. They know when they're around humans they can trust." He gives a sage nod and a little grin.

"His judgment has been less than perfect in the past." The cat seemed to look at Izira and flick his tail. She sipped her tea.

"Well, let's hope he's learned his lesson and everything's working just fine here in the present." He chuckled. "So was Errand the only guest you had today?"

"Errand and Noira." She leaned over, picking up a business card from by the til and handed over to Gren to read. Ilinoira Abernova Tiranel Sibreth - Freelance Adventurer, Battlemage & Scholar - Specializing in Acquisition - Base Rate of 100 s/d - Contact at Annie-Love's Wilderness Expeditions, Apartment 1, Dragon's Gate, RhyDin, RhyDin, RhyDin.

"Ilinoira Abernova Tiranel Sibreth. That sure is a mouthful. She seems like an interesting person." He hands the card back to her when he's done reading it.

Taking the card and placing it back with the others. "That was my impression of her, an interesting person."
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Post by Gren Blockman »

"What kind of books was she into?"

"Journals written by sorcerers."

"Huh. I guess I should have known you'd have books like that considering your . . . powers."

"I have a lot of books covering a wide variety of topics."

"Oh, really? Do you have any poetry books?"

"Several. Would you care to take a look?"

"Sure, if you wouldn't mind." Some memory has piqued his interest.

"Noira and Errand both borrowed a volume, it seems fair to allow you the same." A final sip of her tea was taken, then she left the dishes with Gren's in the sink as she moved out from behind the bar. This time taking the hallway by the stairs back. The hallway ended at a door that opened in the the hallway that led from the kitchen to Izira's room. Turning right, down the second hallway, they quickly came to her private quarters. Her bedroom door is shut, having shut it earlier.

He follows her silently, taking note of the hallways again, and staring around at her quarters. "I was looking for anything by W.B. Yeats. If you have it."

"I believe... I recall that name." She moved toward the place along the shelves that she thought she recalled seeing such a book. Trying to banish, as she did so, the memory of Errand's oppressing closeness from earlier. The ladder is taken, slid down the rows to where it is needed, then she carefully ascends several steps. Her light blouse the barest blush of rose is paired with a grey pencil skirt and grey heels. A couple books carry the name, slightly further out that she expected. On her toes she stretches out, plucking the volumes out.

He watches Izira, smiling gently, as she stretches out for the books. He admired the stylish way she dressed, as always. He stands back and lets her locate the books. He takes another quick glance around, staring at the large collection. "Did you read all these books?"

"Not all of them." Two books in hand, she comes back down the ladder and offers them to Gren. "A number of them were here when I arrived. Left by former occupants."

"Ah, I see. Thank you." He takes the two books, staring at the titles. "I'll bring them back as soon as possible. There's this one poem I remember fondly. I haven't read it in years."

"Do you remember what it is called?" Curiously, as she steps back thoughtfully.

"I'm pretty sure it was titled "He Wishes For the Cloths Of Heaven". Some of the most beautiful lines I ever read. I hoped to maybe one day read it to the woman I fall in love with." Then he turns a bit red.

She stands a bit more distance than she has recently. She half-smiles to his words, taking in his blush. "She is sure to be moved." She almost opens her mouth to inquire if there's someone he likes, perhaps at the dueling venues, but instead stays tight lipped.

He glances down at the books, then back at her. "I can read it to you . . . If you'd like."

"A kind offer. But save it for the woman you love, I can read it for myself when you return the books."

He looks at her for a long moment, and then just nods weakly. "Alright then. That was all I wanted, for now."

"You're welcome to peruse the rest of my library to make sure."

"No. I'm sure. This is the exact book I wanted." He nods emphatically to her.

"I'm glad you found what you were looking for, then."

"I am too." He smiles at her, an odd, wavering smile. "I should be going now. What do I owe you for the meal?"

"The visit is payment enough." That must be true of everyone since she had yet to charge anyone outside of the minotaur.

"Thank you, Izira." He awkwardly clutches the books to his chest. "I will see you on Wednesday, then. One thirty."

Izira gave a dip of her head. "Wednesday, yes. Safe travels to you, Gren."

"Take care of yourself until then." He looks her in the eyes for a drawn out moment, then he turns and makes his way from her quarters, down the hallway and back to the bar area. He doesn't stop, but makes his way across to the door, and out of the Inn. He hurries down the gravel path and to the portal, where he vanishes in a shimmer of blue light.
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The Battle of Violet Crossing (Part 1)

Post by Gren Blockman »

The Battle of Violet Crossing

Tuesday, October 8, 2013



Violet Crossing was a tiny village based around a well-traveled crossroads, and surrounded by a dense forest of pine. It was born when an Inn was built to cater to travelers, adventurers, and laborers headed for points north and west. The owner of the Inn was a widow named Violet Sanders, and after a time her Inn became a famous rest stop throughout the area. Eventually, the crossroads attracted merchants, settlers, and farmers, and one building soon became a ramshackle collection of homes, stores, and barns. The village was called Violet Crossing after the original inhabitant, and the Inn which still stood, serving the local population and any wayfarers still seeking their fortune in the deep forest.

The crossroads, which served as the lifeblood of the village’s economy, also brought with it unwelcome attention from the local orc and goblin tribes. One goblin tribe, called the Tribe of the Black Moon, had frequently attempted to raid the village. The local militia and mercenary bands had thwarted their attempts, until the goblin’s chieftan got the idea to attack them during their annual Harvest Fair. That night, while the citizens reveled, and the mercenaries were asleep or drunk, the goblins poured into the small village, taking them by surprise. The mercenaries were able to rally and keep the entire village from falling, but they were stretched dangerously thin. As they fought house to house to check the goblin’s advance, they sent messengers to the local militia groups, pleading for aid. Perrigan answered the call, and brought with him twenty-five Rangers on a forced march through the night to aid the imperiled hamlet. They saw that the mercenaries had built a barricade of carriages, boxes, and lumber to defend the town’s center. The goblin-held section was filled with hazy smoke, angry war cries, and their yellow banners with a black moon that flew above some of the rooftops. Perrigan wasted no time, and lead the Rangers in a counterattack, flanking them from the south, pushing through the streets. The goblins were taken by surprise, and thinking the Rangers were a much larger force than they actually were, broke for the safety of a nearby hill on the north side of the village. The goblin chieftans were beside themselves with rage at their lost opportunity. With the lash of the whip, they were able to rein in their fleeing soldiers, and dug in at the top of the hill. The chieftans sent a message back to their goblin brethren for reinforcements for another attack on the village.

Meanwhile, the local mercenaries had been emboldened by the arrival of the Rangers and turning of the flank. They charged from behind their barricade and helped push the fleeing goblins to the hill. The mercenaries and the Rangers both paused, and took shelter behind a farmer’s stone wall, while the leaders discussed what should be done next.

Perrigan stood near an oak tree with the head mercenary, a burly man in leather armor wielding a large axe named McCann. Some of his lieutenants also stood by, and peered up at the goblins that were screaming insults and waving their yellow banners.

“I’ve got fifty men or so. I can make the charge. You Rangers have my thanks, you did your part. I’m going to give these little b*st*rds a lesson they won’t forget after what they did.”

Perrigan gave McCann a concerned look. “Master McCann, I do not doubt you courage or resolve, but I think this task will be more difficult than you realize. The goblins have bows, and hold the high ground. I believe we should wait until more of the local militia arrives before we attempt to drive them out. That hill is steep and rocky, and . . . “

McCann waved Perrigan off, arrogantly. “I will take more than a hill to stop us. These goblins owe us a debt of blood, and I intend to collect.”

“I implore you to reconsider . . . “

“My mind is made up, Ranger”, McCann replied, his countenance growing more irritated. “I will avenge our previous dishonor by letting that pack of rabble into the village in the first place. MEN!” McCann turned and barked at his lieutenants and soldiers. “Prepare yourself! They picked this fight, now we will finish it! Form your ranks and follow me!” The mercenaries rose from the stone wall, formed a five by ten block, and began to march up the rocky hill, with McCann and his lieutenants in the lead.

Perrigan hurried back to where two of his Captains, along with Gren and Rhett were waiting. “McCann has made a foolish decision. This doesn’t look good. In that closed rank formation, they’re going to be cut to pieces. We need to wait here in case something goes wrong, and act as a reserve.”

“Better him than me”, Rhett replied, peering over the wall at the advancing mercenaries. “Nothing would get me to go up that hill.”

Perrigan glanced worriedly at the soldiers marching up the hill. Arrows from the howling goblins began to fall around them, even as they started up the incline towards the top. First one, then two, then a cluster of mercenaries began to fall. McCann waved his sword and urged his men to quicken their pace, but the mercenaries were already wavering, not having expected such fierce resistance from the goblins. McCann had them half way up the hill, before an arrow pierced his midsection, then another through his heart. He was dead before he hit the ground. Seeing their leader cut down, the mercenaries broke, and ran down the hill for their lives. They didn’t stop even after they made it to the safety of the village. Twenty of them lay dead or dying on the slope.

“Where the hell are they going?” Rhett wondered aloud, before glancing back to the top of the hill. “Well, that’s it then. I guess we wait them out until the local militia arrives.”

Gren crouched beside Rhett, peeking over the stone wall, wondering what their next course of action would be. Perrigan stared at the crest for a long minute, then back at the village, and the villagers looking to them for safety and defense.

“We’ve got to take that hill.” He said, simply.
Last edited by Gren Blockman on Wed Dec 11, 2013 6:59 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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The Battle of Violet Crossing (Part 2)

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Rhett gawked at Perrigan incredulously. “What are you talking about?”

Perrigan shifted his gaze slightly to Rhett. “Those villagers are counting on us. There’s no one left to defend them. We have to drive them off this hill before their reinforcements come. Or we’ll be too few to stop them from destroying the village.”

“Headmaster, you saw what they did to those mercs. What makes you think we can do any better?”

“We’ll go up in a ‘loose’ formation. Keep spacing between us, make it harder for them to target us, and easier for us to dodge. Get the Recon teams ready. Ferguson, you get your soldiers ready too. I’ll go alert Abraham. Wait for my signal.” Perrigan then silently made his way down the line to where his other Captain was.

Rhett shook his head, giving Gren a dumbfounded look. “Is he kidding me? He’s got to be, this is suicide!”

Gren swallowed hard, and looked back up the hill. He glanced over to where his team members, Bernard and Crawford, crouched. They looked just as apprehensive as Gren and Rhett did. Haddon and Moriana were there, although Haddon was wearing a maniacal grin, and Moriana was just glaring at the goblins. He saw Perrigan nod hard at Abraham, down on the left side of the line, then come running up to the center. His voice boomed out as he addressed them.

“Rangers! For the safety of the villagers, we must take this hill! It may seem a daunting task, but it is our duty to protect those who cannot protect themselves! Keep your bows out, and fire at will! Keep distance between yourselves, and most of all DO NOT STOP! I will lead you into battle, for I could not ask you to do something that I would not do myself! Take heart, remember your training, and I will see you at the summit! Now FOLLOW ME!”

Perrigan had his bow out, pointed forward, and then leapt over the stone wall.

“Follow the Headmaster!” Gren cried, and he, Crawford, and Bernard vaulted the wall as well. The other Rangers all began to make their way up the rocky slope. Immediately, the rain of goblin arrows began. It was not as accurate as it had been with the bunched-up mercenaries, and the Rangers began to weave back and forth to avoid the deadly missiles. The cries of the dying mercenaries littering the ground filled Gren’s ears, as he tried to fire arrows at the goblins as best as he could.

Suddenly, he saw Crawford, who had gotten ahead of him, fall on his face into the grass.

“Crawford! Crawford, are you hurt?” Gren ran up to him and knelt down, turning him over. Crawford coughed and nodded in the negative.

“I . . . just tripped”, he said, embarrassed.

“Well, get up, I . . . “Suddenly, Gren felt like someone had slammed a punch into his shoulder, and he toppled onto his back with a startled cry. He slid to a stop, and then looked at his left shoulder. There was a goblin arrow protruding from it. The pain caused him to grimace and groan, as he stumbled back to his feet.

“Gren!” Crawford turned to help him, but Gren shook his head, and pushed them both behind a nearby rock. “I’m alright! Just give me a second . . . “, he sat down momentarily, to snap the shaft off, so that he didn’t catch it on anything and do any more damage. If he pulled it completely out now, he’d bleed to death. Just then Ferguson, the Captain, reached Gren’s position.

“What are you two doing? Get up this hill before you get killed!” He waved them on, before going upwards himself.

Gren grimaced, then got to his feet, dragging Crawford with him, and ran for the crest again. Looking out at his fellow Rangers, he could see that Perrigan’s tactic worked. There were still twenty or so of the Rangers on their feet, although here and there he did see a grey cloaked form lying on the grassy turf. The arrow in his arm prevented him from using his bow effectively, so he just concentrated on keeping on his feet and moving forward. It seemed like an eternity, as though every missile in the barrage was aimed right at him.

Izira.

Her face suddenly sprang into his mind. He could see her sitting behind the bar, legs crossed, sipping tea, and tucking her hair behind her ear. They were supposed to see the play tomorrow at the Shanachie Theater.

I can’t die. I can’t die here. I have to see Izira again.

The arrows were falling thicker around him, piercing the turf. But Gren, picturing her face, focusing on their appointment for the next day, gave himself the resolve he needed. His arm still throbbed, and he was still afraid, but he found a new quickness in his steps. He sprinted up the rocky terrain, and as he neared the goal, he saw Perrigan lift his broadsword in the air, before turning his head to deliver an order to his soldiers.

“RAAANGEEERS!!! BOWS DOWN!!! BLADES OUT!!!”

Gren heard the sound of almost twenty swords sliding from their sheath as they neared the crest of the hill. His left arm was hurting badly, so he just dropped his bow on the ground, and pulled his sword out with his right hand. He could see the green skin and wild, yellow eyes of the goblins, who by now were staring in shock at the Rangers that were about to reach the top.

“TAKE THE HILL!!!”

Perrigan was the first to reach the summit. He launched himself into the goblins with a shoulder block, and then with a massive swing of his broadsword, began to cut a path through them. Shrieks and squeals of pain filled the air, as the other Rangers shouted and followed their leader into the fray. Gren drove his sword into the chest of the first goblin he saw, and black blood shot out of the monster’s mouth as it gurgled a death rattle. He crowned another on the skull with his hilt, before spinning and slashing another across the throat that had snuck up behind him. Pressing up to a crumbling windmill, he continued lashing out at the goblins with his sword. He threw himself against the faded wall, and peeked into the window to see if there were any goblins inside. Just then, a goblin leapt through the window at him, knocking him to the ground. Gren growled in pain as his wounded shoulder hit the hard soil, but he managed to lift his left hand up in time to catch the hilt of the goblin’s sword. They struggled briefly, before Gren aimed the point of his own weapon at the creature’s heart and stabbed him. The goblin shrieked in agony, his blood splashing on Gren’s shirt and cloak, before he finally went limp. Gren shoved the dead body away from him, and then leaned up against the windmill’s wall, trying to catch his breath. Tilting his head around the corner, he could see the goblins had been put to flight. The audacity of the Rangers’ charge, coupled with the fierceness of their attack, had won the day. Gren slumped into a sitting position, and gulped in a few steadying breaths. Perrigan came striding up, and didn’t look like he had a scratch on him. The veteran saw Gren sitting, and moved silently through the grass, taking a knee.

“Are you alright, Gren?”

“Yeah.” Gren produced a smile. “Got hit in the shoulder. I’ll be okay.”

Perrigan nodded solemnly. “Get it checked as soon as we get back. Take the rest of the week off. You did fine work today.”

Gren nodded and continued smiling at Perrigan’s kind words. The Headmaster then rose up, and moved slowly to the next fallen man. It was Abraham, one of the Captains. He had taken an arrow through the neck, and lay dead on the ground not far from Gren, his vacant eyes staring up at the sky. Perrigan took a knee, and laid a hand on Abraham’s shoulder. Gren shut his eyes and turned away.

I’m alive.

He opened his eyes again, watching the surviving Rangers milling about, searching the dead goblins, and tending their wounded comrades. He knew when he got back, he should probably rest and let his shoulder heal, but he took his survival as a sign.

It was meant to be. I can see the play with Izira. Nothing can stop me from seeing her now.

Cautiously and achingly, he lifted himself onto his feet, and made the journey back down the hill, his first steps towards home.
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Post by Gren Blockman »

The Shanachie Theater

Wednesday, October 9, 2013



Izira stood in the lobby of the Shanachie Theater, waiting for Gren's arrival. She arrived first and earlier than expected, having finished her errands in the market place. Two tickets for Kiss Me Kate had been purchased and were easily noticed in the delicate grasp of one hand. Those who did not know the lady might think that the purple and black dress paired with black peek-toe heels was her dressing up for the meeting, rather than her usual attire.

Gren walked up to the doors of the Shanachie Theater, wearing a black three piece suit, with a white button down shirt and a black and blue striped tie. He had slicked his hair back as best as he could. He couldn't find any cologne, so he loitered in a nearby pine forest until he absorbed a vague amount of their scent. Better than nothing, he thought. Honestly, he hadn't gotten much sleep, having been a nervous wreck. Now was the big day. He took his customary deep breath and pushed his way into the lobby of the theater. He glanced around for Izira, trying not to look uncomfortable and out of place. He gave a relieved smile when he saw her waiting there and quickly made his way over to where she stood. "You look lovely. Friends can say that, can't they?"

Surprise registers when she sees Gren out of his usual attire, though Izira is quick to mask it with a smile when he approaches. Offering him his ticket as she responds, "They are." Amber-brown eyes look over the three piece suit and back up to Gren, "I did not expect you to be in a suit. You wear it well."

"Why thank you. I figured this being a classy establishment, I should try to dress the part." He took the ticket from her. "Thank you." Then he offered her his arm. "Shall we?"

"I hope it is not an uncomfortable part to fill." Izira looks to the offered arm. A bell chimes, signaling the play is due to start, and moves her to accept the offered arm. Stepping with Gren toward the doors, she hands off her ticket to an usher in exchange for a program. Listening to the usher's directions to their row and seats, she looks to Gren again. Directions given and program in hand, she moves with Gren over to the side and up a row of steps, having seats in the second at the front. "I hope you don't mind, I didn't think we would have need for a private balcony. The view from these seats will be nice."

Not today, it's not, he thinks, in response to her observation about filling the part. "No, I kind of like it. It's nice to get dressed up now and then." Gren's stomach fills with the proverbial butterflies as Izira's arm twines around his. He tries to keep his hand from shaking in nervousness as he hands the usher his ticket and takes his own program. He nods at the usher's direction, smiles at Izira, and follows her up the steps and to their appointed seats. "These will be just fine. It is a very nice view." So far he hasn't stuttered or tripped over himself, so he is grateful for that minor victory. He flips through the program, trying to give his hands something to do while he waits for the play to start.

She takes her seat, with legs crossing. She smiles softly and inclines her head to Gren's assessment of their seats. Her own program settled in her lap, she looked it over to see who was filling which roles for the night. When then lights dimmed for the start of the play, she closed her program and looked to the stage. A smile of enjoyment already lighting her features as Act One began.

He tries to discreetly watch Izira as she's enjoying the play as Act One begins. He chuckles at the dilemma that Fred finds himself in, as he is trying to get his ex-wife Lilli to play the part of Katherine, but then his current 'girlfriend' Lois barges in to stage an impromptu audition for the dance number. He wryly watches the argument between Lois' real boyfriend, Bill, and the "Why Can't You Behave" number, wondering how long it would take someone to learn how to dance like that.

Izira enjoys the dancing, the edge of her smile showing some softer thought there. It has been a long time since she's danced with anyone, Alain having been the last. The thought slides away as she focuses on the play. She watches the exchange between Lilli and Fred as the woman shows off her ring. She glances down to her program, or maybe her own hand. The gangsters return her to the story and she cannot look away as Lilli goes onto the stage with the card from the bouquet of flowers.

Gren winces as Lilli tucks the card into her dress. That can't be good. He watches the three suitors pursue Bianca, who doesn't really seem to care which of them she marries. Then the boisterous Petruchio arrives. Gren can't help but smirk as Petruchio shows all the confidence in the world that he can handle any woman as long as the dowry is large enough. Katherine's "I Hate Men" song seems to say otherwise. The lyric about men "should be kept like piggies in a pen" causes his face to fall. Then the part about marrying a businessman, where she sings "He'll tell you he's detained in town on business necessary / His business is the business with his pretty secretary", Gren unconsciously looks at Izira in protest, as if to say he'd never do such a thing. But she's enjoying the play, and he turns a bit red for getting into things a bit too much.

In the low light, it is easy to miss the sad edge of her smile to Katherine's song. But that is how it is for some. Her situation had been... rather different. It doesn't detract her from her enjoyment of the show. She covers her soft laughter with a hand when Fred gets into trouble as Lilli reads the note never intended for her and results in Petruchio spanking Katherine on stage. Izira admires Fred's cunning as he gets the gangsters to keep Lilli from leaving. The hand covers more quiet laughter as the two bumble around on stage. As the first act ends, she claps with the rest of those in the theater. She waits for the applause to settle before she looked to Gren, "Would you care for a drink during the intermission?"

Gren too laughs as Lilli reads the card meant for Lois, and the spanking causes his laughter to increase. Gren also likes the part where the gangsters are covered by the screen in Petruchio's house, then the screen is jostled to reveal them playing a game of Gin Rummy. He claps heartily as the intermission begins. "Sure, I could drink something."
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Post by Gren Blockman »

"I don't know if they serve Broot here", she says with a soft smile as she stands and waits for him to lead them out of the row. Walking with him back down the stairs to the lobby, she moves toward the table to pick up a glass of water for Gren and a glass of white wine for herself. Offering Gren his glass, "Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Yeah, I figured." He says with a bit of a grimace at the comment about not serving Broot, but it didn't surprise him that much. Down in the lobby, he takes the water that Izira offers him. "Thank you, that'll do." All the laughing made him more parched than he realized, and he drains half the glass before he answers her. "I am! It's very entertaining. I didn't expect the spanking." He grins at her. "I haven't watched many plays before. Maybe I'll have to change that." He figures he's talked enough and turns his attention back to her. "How about you? You seemed to be looking forward to this play."

"I enjoy forgetting myself for a while. The theater helps me to do that." A soft smile up, she finished the comment with a drink of her wine before looking at those also out to see the play.

He watches her, concern beginning to creep into his features. "How are things at the Inn? I was glad to see some new faces on Monday. Have things continued to pick up?"

"They haven't. But I am sure to see Noira and Errand again when they return the volumes I lent to them."

He wasn't there to see Noira, but he pictures Errand in his mind. He wonders what kind of books they borrowed, but he doesn't want to pry too much. "Have you heard anything from Eva yet?"

"I haven't", she replies with a half smile, trying to reassure Gren that despite that fact she remains fine. Looking down to her wine glass and turning it slightly. A pause and she looks up again, "How has the work of a ranger been treating you?"

"Sorry to hear that." He looks away off into the crowd for a moment, before looking back at her. "We had a . . . rough day yesterday. Some goblins attacked a village about five miles from where I lived. They called us in, as well as some mercenaries to get them out. The goblins dug in on a hill near town, the mercs charged them but got routed and left us. We had to go up that hill. Lost some men." He looks down at his empty water glass. "Bad day. Usually my news is more cheerful than that." He gives Izira a sad smile.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Gren." Her expression matched her words and soft tone. She looked away, finishing the rest of her wine and setting the empty glass on a server's passing tray. "Perhaps we should return to our seats."

He nods to Izira, as he places his glass on the tray as well. "Alright", he replies to them finding their seats again. He tries to block the memory of the day before from his mind, and put on a good-natured expression for her. "I hope Fred and Lilli work things out, I always like a happy ending."

"If only life were more like plays?" Moving from the lobby to the stairs to find retake their seat.

He follows her up the stairs and takes his seat next to her, putting his program back in his lap. "Would it, indeed." He glances to the stage, then back at Izira. "But I still believe I'll get that happy ending." He gives Izira a little grin, before watching the curtain rise for the Second Act.

She smiled, despite having no belief in that for herself. Likewise, she turned to watch the curtain rise. They return to see the play's play in intermission. She listens with interest to "Too Darn Hot" and then "Where is the Life That Late I Led?”

He chuckled at Petruchio's black book and list of women he has to give up now that he is married. He shakes his head as Lilli's fiancée from Texas knew Lois. Lois' song of always remaining true "in her fashion" makes Gren chuckle and roll his eyes. Bill kind of brought that on himself a bit, he thinks. He goes back to grinning when Lilli tries to get her fiancée to believe she's being held by the gangsters against her will, but their garish costumes seem to convince the Texan that she is mistaken. Fred trying to dissuade Lilli from the boring life of a cattle rancher's wife, including the description of branding irons, makes him hopeful that she'll turn around, although that doesn't happen just yet.

Leaning forward in her seat as she listens to the love song written for Lois, she smiles softly and adds her clapping to those when the song finishes. A quick thing as the play continues to the gangsters finding out their boss had died. The song that the gangsters sing on brushing up your Shakespeare amuses and Izira thinks she must check her library for any publications by that author. At Lilli's timely return at the end of the play's play, Izira has to smile at the way everything works out as the two couples kiss as the play comes to a close. The curtain falls and Izira joins in the applause with the others in attendance. Standing and clapping as the actors come out to take their bows.

He rises and claps loudly as well, glad to see the lovers together as the play closes. He stares at Izira and flashes her a smile before the applause dies down, a silent acknowledgement of his enjoyment of the play.

She smiles in return, placing a hand on his arm as she returns to her seat. She leans closer so she can speak to his over the noise of people leaving, "I find it best to stay put until the crowd lessens."
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He tries to remain calm as she touches his arm and leans in close. But thankfully he is able to control his nerves. "Alright, I'm not in a hurry." He watches the various people moving up the aisles towards the exits. "Did you like the song Bill wrote for Lois?" He noticed her leaning forward during the performance.

"It's a sweet gesture. Much like the poem you intend to recite to your future love."

Gren pauses as she recalls the poem he told her about Monday. He looks her in the eyes for a long moment. "I found it. In one of those books. It was . . . comforting to read those words again. They spoke to my heart, reminded me of the dreams I have."

"Dreams?" She leans against the back of her chair, looking to Gren. Little attention paid to those leaving the theater.

Gren begins to feel shy at the turn of the discussion, but he brought it on himself. "We all have dreams. But I've only had one, really. Other than getting my memories back. I always wanted to be in love. Not just love someone. But be *in* love. To have someone to come home to. Build a life with. Whenever I'm out on a mission, or at the dueling arenas, I wish that I knew there was someone waiting for me when I returned. Does that make sense?" The question barreled out of his mouth before he could stop it, but he felt anxious for her to understand.

A soft smile, she could understand. She looked down toward the stage, watching the actors greet those that came to praise their performance. ".. Did those you lost yesterday have loves waiting for them?"

He lowers his head, staring at the closed program in his lap. "Some of them did."

She looks back to Gren from the corner of her eye before looking forward again. "I'm sorry for bringing it up."

"That's alright." His voice wavers slightly. He knows it's a concern with the life he leads. He pictures those men lying on the side of the hill. Then he blinks a few times and watches the actors being congratulated.

Izira looks down at her program, "I..." She pauses, knowing the subject is sore and having already apologized for bringing it up. "I know well that feeling", she says, looking to Gren, "Of losing someone to their work." The focus of her eyes drifts back to the stage. "Not to death on the job, but one does not have to die to be lost to you."

He turns his head to watch her as she explains of someone lost to her. "I think I remember you telling me that. The man . . . who went to war and . . . ", he remembered about him losing his tongue, and didn't want to say that part out loud. "No, I understand what you mean. It's good to have someone that understands." He gives her a gentler smile.

She looks to his gentle smile. She is silent a moment longer, before she softly adds. "And Alain."

"Alain? I don't know if you mentioned him before."

"I haven't."

"Why don't you tell me about him, then?"

She didn't want to talk about that history, about the way she chose madness over living with a broken heart. It wasn't Alain so much that she mourned, but her foolish heart. Again the silence stretched before Izira summarized the story as best she could with a single sentence, "His work came first."

He notices that she repeats what she had said before, with much fewer words. He doesn't want to push her, if she doesn't want to talk about it. "Look, I'm sure we both could tell each other some sad stories. But we were supposed to have fun today. So like you said before, let's try to forget for a while, alright? Is there somewhere you'd like to go now that the play is over? Maybe get some . . . ice cream or something?"

An apologetic smile to Gren, perhaps for what was said, perhaps for what she is about to say. "I think it best I return to the Inn."

"No . . . I understand." He gazed out at the stage for a moment, before looking back at her. "Would you like me to escort you home?"

"You do not have work?"

"Not today. I . . . uh . . . I was wounded. They gave me the week off." He didn't want to bring it up and worry her, but he had already confessed about the battle, so he may as well tell the truth. "Nothing serious. I can still walk, as you've seen", he says jokingly.

"How were you hurt?" The discussion of him walking her home was forgotten as she looked him over with concern. "Where?"

"Left shoulder." He points with his right index finger. "I was trying to help a guy up, wasn't paying attention, got hit with a goblin arrow. Stung like the devil. But I'll be fine."

She lifted her hand, touching his shoulder lightly. "You didn't have to come today. I would have understood."

Gren listened to the concern in her voice and actions, and waited a moment before he answered her. "Izira . . . . when I was on that hill, and those arrows were falling around me . . . I kept thinking I had to make it through, because you and I were going to see this play today. Looking forward to this helped me stay alive."

"You like the theater more than I thought." She forces the joke.

"I like the company even better."

"... Friends are important to have."

"Yes they are", he replies weakly. "Having something to look forward to is important too."

"You have a dream to look forward to", she replied with a soft smile. She looked around and saw that the theater had emptied. Standing up, she said, “I should return to the inn."

He rises from his seat as she does. "I would like to escort you home. If you don't mind."

"I will be fine, I have made the journey many times."

"Well then . . . uh . . . Thank you for the ticket. And the company. I enjoyed myself today."

"Thank you, for the company." She leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his cheek, closer to his ear than lips. "Be well, Gren."

He stood still as she leaned in and kissed him. Gren had thought their preceding conversation would have dampened the moment, but for some reason it didn't. "Take care of yourself, Izira."

Izira gave him a light inclination of her head. She moved around him and made for the stairs to leave, not looking back as she did so.

He stood there dumbly, watching her walk away. He didn't move until he felt she had descended the stairs and exited the lobby. He rubbed his eyes with his right hand, glanced down at the stage for a brief moment, before heading for the stairs himself. All he wanted to do at this point was just go home and get some rest. He didn't stop walking until he made it to his front door.
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Post by Gren Blockman »

Thursday, October 10, 2013


Izira is at the inn, moving around the tables to give them an extra polish. She wears a dress of gray and black lace with black peep-toe heels.

Gren had gone home yesterday and slept until morning. He woke, rolling the events of the previous day around in his head, thinking of Izira and whether he had said too much, or maybe not enough. After spending the morning lost in thought, he decided to make the trek to the Inn, and see if everything was alright. He marched his way through the forest, past the lakes, and into the pines, disappearing into the shimmering blue portal. Then he made his way up to the porch and opened the door, making his way inside after pushing back his grey hood.

Izira was slightly bent over a table as she polished it. She looked up and straightened. "Gren." The smile shows and fades, "I . . . did not think I would see you again this soon."

He focuses his ice blue eyes on hers as she rises from the table. "Well . . . I . . . wanted to see if you were alright." He glances at the polish and the table. "I hope I'm not interrupting?"

"I am alright." She moved the cloth she held to her other hand and used her right hand to draw some hair away from her face. "You're only interrupting cleaning. It is likely I will manage. Would you like a drink?"

"Yes, I would." He unconsciously moves towards the bar, and sits on a stool. He puts his hand over his mouth in a reflective pose as he waits for her to make her way there as well.

Cloth in hand, Izira moves through the tables and to the bar. She slips through the gap, leaving the cloth near the sink, and moving to the small fridge. There are still four Broots left and she takes one. The bottle opened and set before Gren. She wouldn't find the words until he was already enjoying his drink. "... are *you* alright, Gren?"

"Thank you." He took the Broot and drank a large swallow. He glances back at her as she asks the question. "I'm not sure how to answer that. I mean, I'm well. I don't . . . " God, just tell her, he thinks. "I was just thinking about yesterday. What we said to each other. I was hoping things were still alright between us, that things didn't get . . . awkward, I guess."

A small nod, she wets her lips, looking at her hands before her. Then up at him, putting on a smile. "Our friendship remains intact."

He lets out a joyless chuckle, and rubs his forehead after he does so, staring at the bar. "Well, that's a relief."

He didn't sound relieved, but Izira did not point that out for him. Watching him, she remained quiet.

"Let me ask you something. When we went through the forest, and looked out over the mountains, you said you thought I pitied you. Then when I asked if you'd see the play with me, you thought I only wanted to go so you wouldn't be alone. Like I saw you as a charity case. Is there something I've done to make you feel that way?" He looks back up at her. There was no sarcasm in his voice. He was hoping she would see it was a heartfelt question.

"You need not worry on that, Gren. You've said you do not pity me and I will take you at your word. If I thought it before, it was because... sometimes I thought I caught a glimpse of it in your eyes."

He looks at his Broot for a long moment. "I asked that because I don't think you understand what I think of you."

She swallows, before speaking softly. "I know you do not pity me." It is a repetition of facts already said, but said with the hope that it is enough.

"You're not afraid of me, are you?"

"I am not afraid.. of you."

"Then are you afraid of *something*?" He notices the pause in her statement.

"Gren.." Her soft voice is almost a plea.
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Post by Gren Blockman »

He shuts his mouth and looks to the side. "Izira . . . I'm not trying to push you into something you don't feel comfortable with. I know you don't know me very well, and I just came crashing into your life that day." He's not ready, at least at that moment, to tell her how he really feels, and her actions lead him to believe it would be too much, too soon anyhow.

"I do not regret you finding your way here." Her hand moves across the bar to lightly touch his arm, but draws back. "I appreciate the friendship you offer me. I know you are a kind man and I know you think me to be a sweet inn keep." An apology is in her smile as few faults are his to own.

Too much, too soon, replays in his head again. He lightly touches his hand to his mouth again, as if thinking something over, then he smiles slightly and looks down at his Broot, taking another drink. "I . . . uh . . ." He chuckles slightly. "I could use something to eat. If the kitchen is still open."

The tension does not ease out of her quickly, but she nods with a thankful smile. "Yes. The kitchen is open. Do you have any requests for dinner?"

"I haven't had fish in a while. I have to cut back on the red meat, a guy my age. Eating all that steak could give me a heart attack by 35." He says this with a bit of a smirk on his face.

"I would not want that to happen." Her words as she joins in on his joke, but there a heavy line of sincerity in her tone. "I will see what I can find." Stepping back to the kitchen door, there is a moment's look at Gren, before she turns and vanishes into the kitchen.

He watches her go to the door quietly, still with the little smirk on his face, and when she vanishes through it, his face falls and he puts his elbow on the bar and his head in his hand. (m) "Christ . . .”

Silas the cat jumps up onto the bar beside Gren, hunkering down and licking his jowls.

Gren lifts his head up briefly to look at Silas. "Hey there, big guy. Should've figured I mention fish and here you come running" He smiles a bit and gives the cat a pet on the head.

He lays on his side, watching Gren as the man pets him.

He absently watches the door that Izira walked through, while petting Silas. "What the hell am I going to say to her? I feel like I'm flailing around in quicksand here."

Flick, flick of the cat's tail. No answer came from Silas, but that shouldn't be a surprise to Gren. Izira remained in the kitchen.

He looks down at Silas for a second. "You're the only one I can talk to, you know that?" He gives the cat a little smirk, then he looks over to the fireplace to see if there is a fire there, suddenly thinking about the first time he arrived at the Inn.

No fire burns in the hearth. The cat gets up as Gren looks that way, dropping to the floor from the bar and trotting to the chairs by the fireplace.

He watches Silas go, figuring it wants to sit in a sunny chair, then puts his elbow back on the bar, but this time his chin in his hand. He stares out the window.

The cat goes by the chairs. A window is open by the fireplace and Silas hops up and out.

A moment later, the large man makes his way into the inn. Wearing the same clothing that Gren had seen him in before. Jeremiah makes his way to the bar and takes a stool a couple down from Gren.

Gren glances sideways at the cat as he finds a window to jump out of. "Now where does he think he's going?" He said, more just to hear himself talk. He notices Jeremiah's entrance, taking his chin out of his hand, and watches him go to the stool and sit down. "Good afternoon", he says politely.

"Is it?” he asks curiously. The man smiles and nods. He looks around, "Where did the lady of the inn get off to?"

He questioningly raises a brow at his opening statement, but then he nods to the kitchen door. "She's in the kitchen making me something."

"Ah." Jeremiah chuckles recalling his statement that Gren was going to get fat off Izira's cooking. The man eyes Gren's stomach while pulling out his pipe and fixing it up.

Gren notices Jeremiah's gaze, and he recalls their conversation as well. He grins a bit. "I ordered the fish this time. Trying to watch my calories."

"Of course. You wouldn't want to lose your dainty figure." There is a low rumble of a chuckle for his own joke before he lights up his pipe and inhales. Several 'O's of smoke billowed up to the ceiling.

Gren looks sideways at Jeremiah for a moment. Rather than comment on the man's joke, he is curious about him, since he didn't get a straight answer out of Izira. "I keep asking Izira if she's got a kitchen specialty, but she keeps avoiding the question. Anything you can recommend?"

"Breakfast in bed?" Another laugh as he holds his stomach. The laugh subsides to a chuckle while he watches the kitchen door. "I recommend anything and everything you can get her to make." His green eyes sparkle with merriment when he looks back to Gren.

The "Breakfast in Bed" comment gets a series of rapid eye movements between Jeremiah and the kitchen door. Did he . . . ? Is he . . . ? "Uhhh . . .” He tries to think of something to get back on topic. "I was thinking of a Blue Plate Special. You know, a meat and three vegetables. Something affordable that will attract the common wayfarer." There, that sounded friendly and reasonable.

He leans forward, lowering his voice in a secretive way. "The lady of the inn doesn't need a blue plate special to attract the common wayfarer. That's not how this place works." Gren might have had a moment to think about Jeremiah's words, but little time to make a reply as Izira is coming out of the kitchen with a rounded plate in hand, several fish fillets, seasoned and served with rice, greens and corn. "I hope the wait wa---Jeremiah." Izira doesn't finish her words. She gives a distracted look to older man as she places the food before Gren with one hand and gives him his silverware in a napkin with the other. "I didn't know you would be joining us for dinner."

Gren blinks rapidly at Jeremiah and his secretive words. He doesn't understand how the Inn works, as he isn't at the point where he realizes there is anything that different from Forgotten Layers and any other Inn, other than it is in a pocket realm. He feels grateful at Izira's entrance, but rapidly looks between her and Jeremiah to see what is going on between the two. Breakfast in Bed, indeed, he thinks. He puts his napkin in his lap and takes a bit of the fish, waiting to see what Jeremiah's reply will be.

"I have no intention of eating right now. I *caught* something earlier." The man smiles like a pleased cat. Izira's look in return is less than amused, "You should not be out so much, Jeremiah, you will tire yourself."

The man waved her concerns off, along with some smoke. "We're fine. Leave the men to talk, lass."

Calling Izira a lass got a raised eyebrow from him. He glances sideways at Izira to see what her reaction will be - while he takes another bite of fish, of course.

Izira looks at Jeremiah with annoyance. The man isn't bothered in the least. She moves, sets out another Broot for Gren on the bar. "I will be in my quarters if needed." Turning to the kitchen, she leaves again.
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Post by Gren Blockman »

He opens his mouth and lifts a finger as she turns to the kitchen and leaves, then slowly lowers it again and shifts his gaze over to Jeremiah. "She didn't seem too happy with that comment." He gives Jeremiah a pointed look.

"She will live", he says, leaning against the bar with his pipe.

He gives Jeremiah a displeased frown for a moment. "What did you mean by "How this place works"? Am I missing something here?"

"Many things." Jeremiah grins toothily.

"Why don't you give me an example then? Because other than being in another realm, this looks like just an Inn to me."

"Only one?" The man pointed his pipe to the fire place, a fire now burning there.

Gren looks oddly at Jeremiah when he points his pipe, then he glances over to the roaring fire in the hearth. He gapes a moment, before looking back at Jeremiah. "Uhhhh . . . .” He jabs his thumb over his shoulder at the fireplace.

"What's the matter, boy? Cat got your tongue?" The man chuckles again in thick amusement.

Gren just stares at him for a few more moments. The 'cat' reference doesn't register yet. "Who exactly are you?"

"I am the only one you can talk to", he replies, matter-of-factly. A thick hand rested on his thigh and he looked as one waiting for better questions to be asked.

Gren's forehead crinkles as he tries to process that, then he spins in his stool to look at the window that Silas ran out of, then spins to look at the door Jeremiah walked through, then finishes his 180 degree turn in the chair to look at Jeremiah.

"Meow."

"Aw, geez". He rubs his forehead with his hand. "Aw, geez!" He remembers petting the cat and talking to it like it was a person. "AW, GEEZ!" He remembers asking Silas to put a good word in for him with Izira.

Jeremiah waits for Gren to finish, patiently smoking his pipe.

Still with his eyes shut, covering them with a hand. "Were you the one that dragged me upstairs the first day I was here?"

"I was."

"Well, that answers that." He pauses, fearful of the next question he's going to ask. "Are you Izira's . . . boyfriend?" That would explain a few things to him.

He laughs, very loudly and for some time. Eventually he can manage a shake of his head.

"Oh." He brightens a bit at that. "Well, I . . . you know . . . the "Breakfast in Bed" comment . . .” he tries not to turn a shade of red, but fails miserably.

He waves off the comment, much as he waved off Izira earlier. Straightening, his features take on a serious set. "I am the Guardian of this realm, this Inn, and the lady Izira."

"I see." He doesn't quite know what to say to that. "Uhhh . . . so why do you feel the need to run around as a cat?"

"Because its form takes less energy to maintain." Izira's comment that Jeremiah would tired himself likely made more sense now.

It does make sense now. "Why isn't this place for the 'common wayfarer'? You shot down my Blue Plate Special idea, and Izira didn't want to do a buffet like the Great Helm."

"This place isn't a business. It's a sanctuary." A thoughtful and deep crease forms in his brow. "A place for those that have lost their way."

"Well that answers a few questions, too." He thinks a moment, rubbing his chin. "How did Izira get to be the Innkeeper?"

"She came to the realm when we needed one."

"Izira said she'd been trapped here for five years before I showed up a few weeks ago. What happened?"

He scratched his beard, "The paths closed because the realm was dying. More than that, I cannot say." He pointed his pipe toward the back of the inn. "I leave the lady to tell her side of it."

He glances questioningly at the back of the inn, wondering what the big secret is, but figuring he can just ask Izira later. "Alright. How big is this realm, anyway? I originally thought it was just the immediate area around the Inn, but Izira showed me the valley through the forest, with the mountains in the distance."

"It is more vast than you could travel in a lifetime and it is ever expanding."

"Ever expanding? That sounds . . . " Odd. "Interesting." He thinks for a moment. "Do you have anything you want to ask *me*? I know I said some . . . things to you about Izira. Like, put in a good word for me? How do I talk to her? That sort of thing."

"You talk to her by opening your mouth, same as anyone else." He shifted and stood.

"Heh, alright." He watches him stand. "Are you leaving?"

"Do you have more questions?"

"Not right now. But, uh . . . thanks for answering the ones I did ask."

A short nod, the man fades from view, his energy sapped as Izira predicted.

"Uhhhh . . .” He kind of points as Jeremiah vanishes, then glances around the room, wondering if he's still there in ghost form. Grimacing a bit, he turns as if to contemplate what just happened, when he sees he's barely touched his food. He semi-panics and starts shoveling it in his mouth quickly, not wanting Izira to think he didn't appreciate the meal she cooked him. He washes it down with his fresh Broot. The quickness of his eating causes him to belch. He covers his mouth a little too late. "Excuse me." Just in case Jeremiah was there and heard.

No response or indication that Jeremiah or Izira is aware of Gren's actions.

Gren pushes his plate away and stares at the kitchen door for a moment. He remembered Izira saying she had gone to her quarters. That would be the place to find her, he supposed. He stands up from the bar stool, and makes his way around the countertop. He quietly pushes the kitchen door open and makes his way inside. He was looking for the hallway that he carried the firewood down that time he chopped some for Izira. He silently walks down the hallway and comes to the door, which he gives a few raps to alert Izira of his presence.

The door stood open. Izira rarely made a habit of shutting it. She sat behind the large desk, but had turned to look towards the fire that burned in her private hearth. Amber-browns lifted towards the knock. "Did you have enough to eat?"

"I had plenty, it was very good." He walked forward a bit until he stood within the room. "Jeremiah and I had an interesting discussion."

"He has many interesting things to say." Her eyes return to the fire.

"Why didn't you tell me he was the Guardian of this realm? And Silas for that matter?"

"I protect his secrets as he protects mine." The amber-browns go to Gren again.

"Is it a secret how all the paths were closed here five years ago? He didn't want to tell me."

"It was my doing." Her eyes lingered on Gren before moving to the flames of the fire.

He returns her gaze until she looks back to the fire. "Do you want to tell me about it? That seems an awfully extreme thing to do."
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Post by Gren Blockman »

She gave a joyless chuckle before she passed a hand through her hair and stood up. "It was not my choice, but it was my doing." She came around the desk and leaned back against the front of it, crossing her legs at the ankles. "There is a ritual performed at birth for my father's people. Every babe is born with a gift and that gift is bonded with a parent or guardian.... a means to guide the child in the proper use of its gift."

He crosses his arms and listens, watching her carefully.

"Had my father lived... he might have done the same for me." Her eyes drifted down. "I grew up without that guidance, without the knowledge of my own heritage... a half-breed, with a gift too strong to control alone." Looking up to Gren, she continued, "My father's people loathe half-breeds. For good reason. They're prone to dangerous levels of insanity without a bond."

His gaze never left her face. "So you were afraid you were going to go insane?"

"I went insane." She left that implication at that, moving far ahead in her story. "Alain. He found the truth of my parentage for me. He committed to create a bond with me to keep my madness at bay. He saved me and I loved him." A deep inhale and slow exhale, she looked at the fire and spoke with detachment. "But being with me conflicted with the duties of his job, his ability to save others. He broke it off.... and I.... I broke the bond. I accepted madness rather than live again with a broken heart."

"God . . . Well . . . " He certainly was getting his share of questions answered today. "Are you alright now? I mean, you haven't had any more uh . . . problems since the bond broke, have you?"

Gren had broken the dam. She gave a distant smile. "The realm, the inn, is alive. It depends on the Keeper to live, forever linked." Until someone broke the cycle, she thought. But Izira gave up on the idea she would be the one. "Five years ago, I left. I left and brought death here and to myself." Another pause, she looked back to Gren, "I don't remember how I managed to return. Jeremiah tells me I wandered closer in my madness and he managed to drag me back. I spent most of the first year in a coma. When I woke up...." They were hard days to remember. "I only had Pascal for company. Until a year ago. Jeremiah revealed himself to me. He'd drained much of his own power and that of the realm to create a bond as my father should have. He is my guardian is more ways than one."

He wanders forward as she speaks, not getting too close, but close enough so she knows he's listening and understanding. "Well, I'm beginning to understand why you said the things you did to me. It was a blessing in disguise. Your time here created a bond that cured you of the madness. I was just . . . bewildered at why you seemed so nonchalant about it. Now I get it."

She'd said so much, now her voice seemed to have left her. Her lips barely turn upwards in a smile, though she is happy Gren understands better. She watches the fire.

"Well . . . maybe this can be a fresh start for you. You've got the bond in place. The paths are open. It's like a . . . second chance." He walks over until he's standing next to her at the desk.

"If it is another chance, I am well beyond it being my second."

He rolls his eyes heavenward a moment. It was not a sarcastic gesture, but more of a knowing one. He then looks back at her, smiling. "I'm sure most people could say the same thing. But you know . . . you're alive. And you still have a life to live. If you were so set on living the rest of it in seclusion, you wouldn't have taken those trips into RhyDin City. You wouldn't have went to see the play. With a friend, no less."

It is the little I can allow myself. The thought was at the edge of her mind and the tip of her tongue. She swallows it away and smiles faintly, looking to Gren.

"Like I said before, I don't want to push you into something you're not comfortable with. If we're friends, we're friends. That's fine with me. But I would hope, now that you have this opportunity, that you would take advantage of it. In time. I hope you'll see that maybe . . . something good will come from all this."

"Something good." The words were mixed with hope and disbelief. Her hand lifted to lightly land fingertips against his chest. Gently, they draw down before falling away as she steps back. "I have been *alone* for too long," the 'alone' spoken with more weight than to be just about her isolation. How had it been put? Without human touch. She sighs, "There are more skeletons in my closet than I can bear tell you now."

"Izira . . . you have all the time in the world now to tell me. Whatever it is you want to tell me. I know you've been through a lot." He moves next to her, and tries to put a comforting arm around her shoulder. "I'm not exactly the most confident speaker. And I may not know all the right things to say. But I can listen. I can be there for you when you need someone to talk to. You don't have to be alone any more, if you don't want to."

She tries to smile but it cannot reach her eyes. Her amber-browns give away how torn she feels in that moment, under his arm. "I... I should rest."

"Alright" He pulls his arm back, even raises his hands a bit defensively. "Thank you for the meal. Think about what I said. That's all. Okay?"

As he raises his hands defensively she inwardly winces. Still, she nods. "I... trust you can find your way out." She moves away and for the door of her bedroom. She stops with her hand on the door frame and turns back to him. "Gren..."

"Yes, I can find my way out." He starts to move for the hallway opening, when she calls to him. He stops and turns his eyes to her. "Yes?"

It is only because telling him about her isolation helped him understand that she tells him this now. Her hand holds onto the door frame for support. "I am not afraid of you. I am afraid of being hurt. I am afraid of being used. I am afraid that if my feelings develop any further I will have it taken away from me again. I'm afraid that all the comforting words you can say to me will mean nothing when you learn of the things I have done.... and I'm afraid... that even if none of that happens, that I will be the one to ruin it instead."

He stands there watching her, trying not to show any emotion in his face, but the compassion he has for her shines through his eyes. "I have those same fears, Izira. The same exact ones."

She swallows, lashes fluttering. Drawing closer to her door, she says, "Safe Travels, Gren."

"Take care, Izira." He smiles and makes his way down the hallway, back into the kitchen, not trusting himself to look back. Hurriedly, he makes his way through the kitchen door into the bar. He glances around to see if Jeremiah is still gone.

The man is still gone.

Gren closes his eyes for a moment, then pulls his grey hood back over his head, before walking out the door. He makes his way back down the path where the portal lies. The glowing blue lights shine as he vanishes from the realm.
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Post by Gren Blockman »

Friday, October 11, 2013


Gren got home and spent a sleepless night staring at his ceiling, or out the window from his bed. The things Izira said to him made him feel he was close, so close to finally realizing his dream with her. But the fears she had raised were fears he had held as well. Would he be enough for her? Could he say the right things? Do the right things? He had just ended a relationship himself not too long ago. He didn't want to be hurt or used, either. He tossed and turned in his bed, wondering if he was doing the right thing. Dawn broke and Gren rose sluggishly from his bed. He tried to go through his normal morning routine, but he barely had the willpower to wash and dress himself. He didn't bother to have breakfast. Should I go now?, he thought. I have to. After everything she said to me. I have to. I have to let her know I care. He glanced at the book of poetry he had borrowed from Izira's library, tucked it into his cloak, and marched out of his treehouse and towards the portal to the Inn. His pace was brisk, and he made it to the portal quicker than he ever had. It was about noon when he arrived, appearing in the shiny blue lights and making his way up the gravel path. He opened the door, without his usual hesitation, or mental preparations, and stepped inside.

Izira sat at the piano, playing a soft melody. The notes sung of sorrow and regret as her fingers traveled the keys. It was a blue tune, one that didn't quite match the happier blue of her dress. She didn't look up at Gren's entrance but went on with the song. Cat and ravens nowhere in view, Izira had been alone.

Gren was not prepared to see and hear Izira playing her piano. His mind immediately raced to the conversation he had with her when he travelled back to 2008. I'll probably never hear you play piano, he had said. He stood in the doorway for a time. Then on silent feet, he made his way to a chair in the sitting room. He had no way of knowing whether she knew he was there or not, but he did his best to remain quiet. He watched her in her lovely blue dress, playing that sad melody, and tried not to get emotional. He covered his mouth with his hand, leaning his elbow on the armrest of the chair.

She played on for several minutes and if the song had a story to it, it seemed to have a sad ending. Slowly the notes died away and fell silent. She remained still as the quiet grew. A breath taken, she turned slightly on the piano's bench. A muted smile offered to Gren. She had heard him enter. "Thank you for your patience."

His hand lowered slightly to his chin, exposing a sad smile. "It was my pleasure. I wanted to hear you play something." He remembered his joke about the "Unknown Symphony". "What do you call that song?"

"It doesn't have a name." Fingers trailed over the keys but brought no sound from them this time. She lingered at her seat as though hesitant to leave a dear friend, but eventually she found her feet and stood, her amber-browns taking in the light from outside. "Did you come for lunch?"

'Uh heh". He laughed briefly when she says the piece has no name. Not mockingly, more like a close friend telling an inside joke. The sadness left his smile then. He waited a few seconds before he answered her. "I could eat something."

"Something special?" It is softly delivered, a friend with little rest jesting with another. She's already moving toward the kitchen door behind the bar.

"Everything you make is special. I thought I told you that." He rose from his chair, keeping his ice blue eyes on her, and he slowly makes his way to the bar.

"You have." A soft smile was given. She stopped behind the bar long enough to set out a Broot for him. One of three left. A finger moved to pull several strands of hair behind an ear. Izira turned and slipped away into the kitchen.

He sits down on the barstool, and wraps his hand around the Broot. The combination of lack of sleep, hunger, and nervousness were making him light-headed. He took a long sip of the Broot, and watched the door, thinking of what he was going to say to her when she reappeared.

Izira did not stay in the kitchen for long, having already put some effort into the meal she was serving earlier. She's away long enough to spoon a healthy portion of the seafood chowder into a wide bowl and cuts several slices of fresh bread onto a plate, adding a roll of butter. "No red meat." Reminding him she remembered as she carried the plate and bowl to the bar. Silverware wrapped in a cloth napkin placed beside the meal. "Would you care for anything else, Gren?"

"Just for you to sit here with me." He still has a good natured, if sleepy expression on his face, as he unrolls his silverware and places his napkin in his lap.

A nod, she fills herself up a glass of water and took a seat on the tender's stool behind the bar. One leg crossed over the other.
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