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Arrival at the Bismarck [Open]

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((Admin edit: Split from original topic. Endi, feel free to edit the title if you wish and add a set of rules at the top of your post if you want. You may also remove this edit modification when you see it ^^))

-Thanks Cas I appreciate it.Since the other tavern pretty much died down i'm going to make this an entirely different tavern. :)

As for Rules The basics of course.



With the sudden sound of rain hitting the roof of the tavern a green cloaked figure entered through the doors. It was not a particularly odd occurrence for perfect strangers to pass into the pub but this particular individual was a bit different from most. Perhaps a bit was stretching it as the particular persons garb was certainly out of sort with the typical patrons of establishment.What was perhaps most alarming to the patrons was contently perched on the stranger's arm; a fine hawk.

"By the Twelve is it going to eat us?! was heard uttered out loud. patrons pushed back in their chairs at a few tables as other stopped and stared on.A small smirk crossed the the strangers lips as the hooded head slightly shook.

The barkeep looked up from polishing crystal to see what all the fuss had been about. He immediately spoke up at sight of the bird and reproached the green cloaked figuer.

âYou cannot bring that creature in here stranger. This is a tavern not a hunting lodgeâ¦â

The stranger lifted a damp gloved hand to the hood of the cloak and pulled it back to reveal a fair skinned brunette woman who looked to be in her mid-twenties. âThis creature is my companion and he will remain with me. Understood?â said she firmly.


The barkeep, obviously displeased by the reply, stepped into the womanâs path. âEither the bird leaves or you both leave, Ma'am.â


âI will do no such thing. Times are hard and I am certain not even you can afford to turn away patrons. So my companion remains or Iâll take my leave, there are plenty other places in this city who are more willing to serve all customers. Now if itâs not too much trouble I would like a glass of wine, Thank you.â


With that she pushed past the dumbfounded barkeep who staggered a bit as she passed by. She heard him say no more and found a quiet corner table to sit. Out of the corner of her blue eyes she saw the bar keep preparing her glass of wine, grumbling all the while to himself. She

looked at her companion lovingly and pressed a soft kiss to the hawk's head as they settled themselves comfortably. She murmured quietly to the hawk; the bird listened intently.

âI do not care for this place either, my Love, but we have been asked here. As soon as we are done. we'll leave as soon as possible.â

The Hawk fluffed itâs feathers then preening himself as a waitress approached their table. The Hawk stopped and puffed its chest, out keeping its eyes on the waitress as she placed the glass of wine down carefully, obviously skittish of the hawk as well. A curious thought struck her.Had these people ever stepped out of their city onto other lands besides the sea?

âItâs alright my love.â The Hawk settled as she stroked the bird's back comfortingly. The waitress slowly backed away from them.

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The door slammed open with and a woman entered, brushing her sodden hair back. Her attire was obviously well made, posh, and of the current fashion of Ul'dah's upper class, though somewhat out of place in the port city. "It's always pouring when one tries to go anywhere in this wretched place", she mumbled, shooting the rain an offended glare. She shook her soaked jacket off with a glower and tossed it at a hostess as she glanced around the room. Her look settled on the cloaked woman and hawk.


She made her way to the table and perched on her seat like a princess, glancing to another scandalized looking waitress, "I'll have a glass of kirsch, whatever the starter of the evening is, and then the menu." She gave the waitress a dismissive wave and returned her attention to the woman before her.


"Good evening. I'm Ryelle Lathal, of Ul'dah's Lathal Mining Corporation." She quirked a brow, her eyes flicking to the hawk. "You're a guide of some sort, yes? You look like the storybook version of a woodland hunter... I'm surprised they let you into the Bismarck with that, as they usually cater to a more discerning clientèle. Usually it's the one place in this city where you can avoid the pirates, thieves, and anyone that doesn't look like they carry their weight in gold."

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The doors opened slowly. A little figure stepped in. Shamad threw back his hood and glanced around. "So many people and all so tall."he whispered to himself. He rubbed his chest and walked to a table. A waitress walked over.

"May I take your order?"

"Yes. I'll have the special and a fruit juice."

The waitress nodded and walked back to the kitchen. Shamad sat back and watched the other patrons.

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Quietly opening the doors to the tavern and slipping inside, an Elezen man shook the rain from his rust-colored hair and tied it back into its normal tightly-pulled fashion. Not too damp given the weather outside, he was obviously one familiar with the city and knowing of the best ways to move around it while taking most advantage of cover. As such his clothing was mildly wet rather than soaking, a gray linen shirt hanging loosely around his shoulders, drops of moisture glistening on his brown leather pants. Glancing around the room, he quickly noticed that many of the patrons were shooting worried looks in the direction of one particular inhabitant of the place. Following their gaze, his eyes settled upon the two women in the corner, raising an eyebrow at the sight of the hawk one one of their shoulders. Intrigued, he moved over to the bar and beckoned over the waitress he was most familiar with.


"Good to see you again, Elle. What's the story with the two over there? Isn't often that you see a stately-looking type like her with a wilder like the other." The waitress smiled slightly at him, resting her head on his shoulder in a familiar fashion.


"By the Twelve, Croix...I'm glad to see you in here tonight. I can't tell you much about them, only that I don't like them. I swear that bird wants to peck me eyes out! As for the other, she's one of them prim and proper types, looking down her nose at me like I just crawled out of the bay. I don't like them at all." Croix smiled gently and scratched Elle's head in a brotherly, soothing manner.


"If that's the case then perhaps it's worth seeing how this progresses. The snooty-looking one can't be here just visiting...and I'm certain the Captain would dearly love to find out if there's new money just wandering around the place. Of course since she was so dismissive of the crew's favorite waitress, we can't have you subjected to such disrespect right away, can we?" Croix reached around behind Elle to claim the tray that the barkeep had placed by her, containing a glass of kirsch, a steaming bowl of mushroom soup and a menu. Ignoring Elle's protestations, he made his way over to the corner table and set the tray down on it, settling himself into a free chair. "Good day, Ladies. Might I suggest today's fish? I have it on good authority that it truly is exquisite."

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The waitress placed the roasted apkallu breast and fruit juice on the table. Shamad nodded to the waitress and handed over the money. He dug in. He watched the other patrons carefully. He wondered if any of them had info on the Crimson Blades.

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Siben quietly entered the tavern without so much as a glance around the room. He walked slowly over towards the fireplace and removed his blue, rain soaked cloak with some degree of difficulty. He winced and gave his shoulder a rub as he hung the cloak up near the fire to dry before finding a comfortable, out of the way booth to sit in. He settled in and produced a manuscript, notepad, and pencil from his pack and set about flipping through the manuscript, pausing from time to time to stab at his notepad.

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The doors blew open, wind and rain began to blow into the entry way of the rather crowded tavern. Revan's cerulean eyes hovered over the patrons as he followed in after the wind, cloak soaked, long dark chestnut hair curling in wet locks to the middle of his back. A rough five oclock shadow had been present on his face, probably not having shaved in a good two weeks. With each step his boots clanked heavily upon the floor, and if his intricately designed leather armour did not catch the eye of most the patrons, then the sword that was sheathed to his side certainly did. The blade was very similar in design to a nodachi ((basically a long japanese katana)), but with intricate artistic details that would not be seen present in the most artisan of crafted blades in the area. It was forged of black steele, and runes crafted into the hilt and blade would pulse a blueish glow periodically. This pulsing glow seemed to be caused by the jewel that was imbedded into the blade's hilt. It appeared to be pure Aetheryte, in a cut gem form. Glowing as the runes did, though it did so dimly. Clearly, the man was not from here, but that was quite evident. He bore the features of a Highlander, the last of the kin of the once great City of Ala Mihgo. Tall and muscular, and relatively young, but not of youth. Some would consider him handsome in appearance, but he appeared to be in his early thirties. His eyes spoke of temperance, reservation, and experience. As did his demeanor.


Many patrons near the entry way began to whisper loudly amongst each other, somethings akin to "A highlander?... in these parts?! What a rare sight!" in different variations of course. Revan's gaze loomed over the patrons carefully, with a grim expression, before he stepped forward to the proprietor of the tavern.


"...Can I help you sir?" The barkeep said albeit a bit hesitantly at the well-equiped, and well-fit man.


"...I need a place to stay for the night. I'll be gone in the morning." The words parted from Revan's lips in a deep, however, smooth voice. One that could be pleasant to hear, and at the same time, one that could be easily feared.


"I'm afraid our rates have g-gone up ta-nite sir. We're really busy... ta' get a room ye'd have ta' pay double its usual price."


Revan's face remained without expression as his left hand idly lowered to his waist, pulling a coinpurse from his belt and dropping it to the barkeep's feet.


"...One thousand gil. Is this insufficient?"


The barkeep widens his eyes looking down at the coinpurse that hit the ground with a heavy thud. "..n-not at all!" The barkeep turns behind the counter and reaches down into a drawer, and removes a skeleton key from it. He turns once more to Revan and extends the key to him. "Room seven. Its one of the nicer ones, I assure you!... what is your name sir?"


Revan replied in a quiet matter of fact tone: "Names are for friends and acquaintances... I am not interested in making either."


Revan had taken the key and began to walk away, seeing an empty table in the corner of the room far from most the other patrons. It seemed like somewhere he could eat a meal with little disturbance, atleast as little disturbance as possible. He approached the table and sat down quietly, pulling some parchment that was damp from a vest pocket beneath his armor. He overlooked them closely, them appearing to be letters and maps, as he awaited a waitress to approach his table. He did not look to the other patrons, seeming disinterested altogether in all of them.

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Shamad was wiping his lips when he saw the Highlander come in. His blue eyes flashed as he registered the sword and the man's general appearance. He didn't like the look of this one at all. He drew his hood up and carefully put himself in the corner, as far in the shadows as he could. Tall people were trouble and this man was trouble with a capital T.

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Ryelle had been curiously glancing around at the other patrons, showing a very faint smile of approval at the dunesfolk, then smiled complacently once more at the other woman.


"It's always nice to see someone of more familiar territory. The dunesfolk have such gemlike eyes, I just love them. They've always reminded me of the opals we sometimes trade in..."


She stopped and tilted her head, arching a brow in controlled annoyance as the elezen took a seat. She looked him up and down quickly, the corner of her mouth turning down.


"How quaint... I didn't realize the Bismarck had become so homey." She retrieved the glass of liqueur, taking an appraising sip before giving a small nod and nudged the bowl of soup off of the tray.


"My companion and I will have the fish then, as well as the accompanying vegetable of the day." She paused and gave the menu a quick flip through.


"Kugel for dessert I think. Oh and something for my acquaintance's little friend." Delicately setting the menu back onto the tray, she slid it towards the elezen. "That will be all, thank you." She sipped her kirsch and treated him to a disdainful glare.


Ryelle's attention flicked to the hulking highlander a moment, her glare momentarily more severe. She twisted the complacent smile back into place and returned her attention to her quiet companion.

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Far from surprised at the sound of a slamming door she picked up her glass of wine and sipped at it slowly. Silence was naught to be had⦠even in this establishment as the door opened yet again.; for the 4th time that evening.She had herd her new aquantances questions but decidedly took her time to answere before they were interrupted by a man with Ryelleâs initial order. She found she had at least one thing in commen with this women; annoyance at the Elezen seating himself at their table and interrupting their peace.

She said nothing letting her new acquaintance make her order. She raised an eyebrow herself her companion yet again fluffing itâs feathers and puffing it chest out. He spread his wing span just a little; Watching the man carefully as he cocked his head a little to the side taking measure.

Her contact should have been there by now and she was now wondering if they had stood her up. She was specifically given a time and place to meet whoever it was. She watched the doors a little inpatiently as the doors blew open and another Traveler came in . She watched her companion on her arm now cotently settling himself. He too uninterested in the comings and goings .

She noticed that the patrons now fixed their sight on an entirely new and unusual sight . A highlander of all people. She looked back at Ryelle as the man quietly found a table far away from all. She wondered if he would have better luck then she.


âBy such stares I cannot help but wonder how many of this cityâs inhabitants have ever left the city walls.â she commented.

She took a rather slow sip from her glass as she studied Ryelle. She was certainly of upper class breeding and most likely apt to have little care for the consequences of her actions and choices for those around her. So long as she obtained what she desired. Perhaps she would find the opposite but it was unlikely.

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The rain fell heavily on the head of a red-hooded roegadyn. He walked slowly through the streets, his body in a slumped fashion as he held a brown sack slung over his shoulder. The color of the bag would be a dark linen brown, thanks to the moistness caused by the rain. As he continued on his way, he would look up to the sky, watching the droplets of water fall from the sky. His head would remain skyward until a rather large drop of rain would plow it's way into his right eye, a quick shot of pain hitting him.


The roegadyn would grunt slightly, throwing a cupped hand to his eye to rub it instinctively. His concentration was focused on his wet eye, and as he continued to massage it with a rather large hand, his large foot would begin to overshadow a good sized stone until his sole met it. The roegadyn would let out a sharp bellow as his large structure heaved to the ground with a thud, his brown sack falling directly beside him.


Ahrick laid on the wet ground for moments at a time, his head resting in a fine puddle of rain and muck. He would sigh again, raising to his knees and then to his feet, kneeling down to retrieve the large sack and sling it over his right shoulder. A large hand slid down the side of his face, removing the muck and rain water from his mug. The roegadyn would continue down the street until reaching a building, obviously lit and full of life.


Ahrick took the one chance he had of waiting out the rain and drying up by entering the tavern. Entering through the doorway, the patrons of the tavern would be able to notice his reddish robe completely drenched as he progressed slightly through the tavern. The roegadyn removed his hood, revealing a slightly moist head covered in short black hair and garnished with a thin dark shadow of beard.


Ahrick, taking notice to the bar itself, would dig his hands through the pockets of his robe, pulling them out empty-handed with a sigh. He would then simply stand near the door, gazing among the patrons as he clenched the cuffs of his grabs, ringing them of water. As he spotted a hawk sitting upon a patron's shoulder, he gave a confused yet curious look. He then took sight of a highlander with a look of surprise. They were a rare sight, indeed.

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Shamad watched the Roegadyn walk in, rummage in his pockets, and come up empty. He felt sorry for the poor guy. He made his way to the bar, careful not to make eye contact with anyone. Eye contact meant conversation. Conversation led to secrets. Secrets led to prison. He didn't want to go to prison. He whispered into the barkeep's ear. "Give the Roegadyn what he wants." He went back to his corner.

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"Kara!" Doc woke up with an exclamation, a paper stuck to his face as he sat upright. He had fallen asleep at a table in the tavern, he didn't even remember being tired. He grasped a glass of water that was on the table in front of him, took a gulp and then poured the remainder over his head.


"Woah... that's better." Doc grinned and looked around the tavern as he pushed back his wet hair from his eyes. "Right, when, where and why am I?... here" Doc cocked his head slightly, "Oh yes now I remember, here. Oh yes, this is where it gets interesting. Well by interesting, I mean It may or may not all start here, I'm not sure I could be off by a day or..." Doc looked at a confused looking waitress who was now staring at him. "I'm talking out loud aren't I?" The waitress nodded slightly. "''Fraid so sir. Can I get you anything?" Doc nodded and smiled. "Bread please, I have a sudden craving for bread, Is that odd?" The waitress shook her head. "Only is if you dump it over your head sir." Doc grinned, "Oh good, well bread please, and some more water, as I seem to be out." The waitress hurried off and Doc continued his scan of the tavern when his eyes met with a bird. Doc immediately looked up, when he realised there was in fact a roof he went back to silently staring at the bird. "Curious..." he muttered and the piece of paper fell off of his face.

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Croix struggled to keep a look of intrigue under control as he noticed the momentary lapse in the well-dressed woman's expression. Obviously a woman not too fond of the Highlander...he found himself wondering if she knew this man, or if her disdain extended to all of them. He decided it was more likely the latter, if Elle's description of their interaction was accurate. But the quick correction of herself tended to indicate a woman well-versed in the art of disguising her true feelings...and possibly true intentions. More the Captain's type of game, he thought...but then, he hadn't spent this much time serving the man without picking up a few tricks. He turned around in his seat and offered a small smile to the increasingly nervous Elle who was fidgeting behind him. Some small reassurance that he knew what he was doing and that she should just play along.


"You heard the lady, Elle. If you could bring me a glass of water while you're at it, I would greatly appreciate it." He gave the girl a wink and turned his attention back to the conversation he had invaded, first turning his attention to the woman with the hawk. "You'd really be surprised, my Lady. Those of us from around here tend to spend most of our time on or around the waters...we're not an unworldly people by any means, all manner of oddities come through the ports. It's just rather rare to see such a fine creature as your companion here." Croix smiled at the hawk, attempting to convince the obviously intelligent bird that he meant no harm to its mistress. "Not ones to give their loyalty easily, as I hear it..." he said softly, reaching into his side pouch and pulling out a strip of jerky, offering it to the bird. Ensuring his gaze remained on the animal, he directed his next statement towards the well-dressed woman. "Opals, I believe I heard? It's equally rare we see such a fine-dressed, refined woman such as yourself coming through. Is trade the reason we find ourselves graced with your presence?"

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Revan's cerulean gaze resonated forth the glow of the nearby fire from the reflection of his irises, eyes remaining fixed on the maps and documents laid out before him. He notices a rather attractive looking waitress approaching him, and he slowly stacks the documents and turns them over as she comes closer. The woman was a hyurian midlander, dressed with tame modesty. She offered a flirtatious smile to the man, as she would with most patrons of the inn.


"I'm Lila and I will be your server sir!" She said rather optimisticly as she gracefully set a menu before the man, right on top of his documents. "May I get you a drink?" She asked with a warm and likely a not so genuine smile.


Revan looked to his documents and then his eyes raised to the woman with a hint of annoyance in his eyes. However he replies to her calmly in a deep and smooth tone. "...No menu is necessary." He raises his hand to the menu and offers it back to her. "I'm parched... how is your mead?"


"The best in all of Eorzea, sir! I assure you!" The woman replied as she took back the menu.


'Somehow I doubt that...' Revan thought to himself, a moment of nostalgia coming to him as he thought of the honey-wine from his homeland. Revan waves to Lila dismissively. "...that will suffice." he said, eyes trailing down once more to his documents, waiting for her to step away before continuing his studying further.

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Ahrick would take a plump seat on a small stool at the bar, eying a shady person walk up to the bar to whisper something in the barkeeps ear before returning to a corner. The roegadyn shrugged it off as he rested his large arms on the table with a small sigh.


The barkeep would offer the roegadyn something on the house, following the orders of the man in the corner. Although confused, Ahrick was too tired and even more thirsty to pass up a free drink. "Mead will be fine, thank you!" Ahrick said softly, smiling at the barkeep as he did. With all the chitchat and grim looking characters rummaging the tavern, Ahrick was quick to remain seated at the bar, keeping to himself and being as quiet as possible.


The barkeep would return with the roegadyn's drink, in which he would thank the attendant once more, taking a few sips of the drink, still being sure to keep to himself. He didn't want to cause any trouble, especially in a tavern such as this.

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Shamad jumped as the odd man yelled and poured water on himself. At this distance he couldn't tell his race but he most definitely wasn't a Lalafell. He settled back down and watched the Roegadyn's reaction to the free meal. He had gone hungry himself many times. It was weird but he had always liked Roegadyns. One of his best friends back in Ul'dah was a Roegadyn. Too bad Shamad would never see him again. He decided to stay in the Bismark until closing time. Hopefully something would pop up.

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Siben gave a sigh and packed up his work. He flagged down a passing waitress who had apparently failed to notice him sitting in the booth during her rounds and ordered a stiff drink, on the rocks. While he waited for her to return he scanned the tavern quickly, only noticing that he wasn't the only person in the room. He gave a quick double take at the bird of prey perched across the room and cocked an eyebrow, intrigued.


By the time the waitress had returned with his drink he had pulled out another rather thick tome from his pack, it's embossed lettering read, "Myths and Legends of Eorzea." He thanked the waitress and quickly downed his drink before reaching into his pants pocket to reveal a small flask which he opened, pouring a good deal of it's contents over the ice in the glass.


He settled down against the booth and buried himself in his new book.

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"Loyalty requires earning trust first, and trust is tough to earn. Especially from a discriminating falcon."


Ryelle didn't shift as some odd person in the corner shouted and doused himself, instead letting her gaze dirft around the taven once more, though she ignored the highlander ensconced in his corner. The man reading alone in a booth was curious but he looked oblivious to the world, which curbed interest. She took another sip of her kirsch, watching the lalafell approach the bar and leave over the rim of the glass. her smile nearly reached her eyes at the ensuing exchange between the barkeep and the roegadyn.


"As for opals, I'm currently waiting for something a great deal more precious to come into port, though with this storm the ship will probably be delayed till late tonight." She set the glass down and daintily started on her soup, ignoring the conversation trespasser once more. "Delicious~ Atleast the Bismarck hasn't lost its culinary prowress. Perhaps the authority on the fish will be proven right."

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In the shadowy corners of the bar, a black masked man, face draped with a hood and his body covered in robes, couldn't help but resist a smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth. He felt a familiar presence... he only wished that he had memories to help him. He leaned forward in the stool of his table, the massive, curved head of the Great Axe on his back rising upwards above his head. Suddenly interested in what was happening about him, he raised his face, eyes peering out from behind the black tiara that consumed his face and neck, seeking from underneath the hood of his robe.


A woman, with a hawk. Interesting.

A pompous but very well dressed woman. Attractive.

...A well armored highlander. The man's eyes narrowed on this figure. Intriguing.

A stammering man who'd fallen asleep at the bar. Familiar. As in, recently familiar. The man felt he'd seen this one only very recently.

There were others, of course. Lalafell, Roegadyn.


He did not know whether to pick a fight, buy that woman a beer, or talk animals with the Hawk lover. Perhaps there would be enough time for all three tonight.

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Shamad saw movement in one of the darker corners. He observed the dark dressed man shift his position and got a look at the great axe on the man's back. The man was large which made him nervous as always. Shamad could feel the man's gaze as he scanned the room and it was not pleasant. He shifted himself a little, making sure his staff and radical were clear. He didn't want to fight but he would if he had to. He carefully, quietly slipped a black dagger out of his sleeve and cut his palm. He muttered the words and cast his Blood Rite on himself.

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The man's steps came to a halt, a hand raising to his face, pulling the black cloth upwards over his nose. His nostrils twitched, a frown on his face. "Blood," he mumbled, his gaze turning to a diminutive figure sitting not incredibly far away. He raised a hand in the direction of the small, cloaked individual, his palm open in a gesture of calm. He bowed his head, indicating he had no ill intention, and proceeded onward, moving to the bar, the periphery of his vision still on the little figure in order to be cautious. "Bartender," he said, "Alcohol. Whatever. My only stipulation is that you make it strong."

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Shamad recognized the gesture for what it was but he still was going to keep his guard up. He did stop his bleeding hand. He kept watching the whole room carefully. He still hadn't seen or heard what he was looking for.

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The women nodded curtly to the intruder in response letting her acquaintance continue the talking. She bent her arm slightly lifting it a little more for her companion to inspect the jerky. The Hawk eyed it and then screeched turning its head away disinterested and settled perching on the womenâs gloved hand.

She let herself sit back against the chair and sipped her glass. The night was turning out to be a long one and the hope of finishing business and resting before heading home was becoming more of a distant plan. She could still see the waitress fidgeting behind him out of the corner of her eye.


Setting her wine glass down she caught sight a of a man at the bar. she hadn't seen him come in and therefore reasoned he must have been seated elsewhere out of sight.She only was half aware of her acquaintance's subject change and had little to say on the matter anyways.

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Revanoth's eyes lifted from his table, resting upon a man who he would not soon forget. The man's posture, the axe he carried on his back, there was no denying that the man who had just entered was Kain. Revan remained focused on task however, despite having some sort of history with the man who had entered. The doors would open once more, a few yards behind Kain, and another Highlander would enter. He seemed younger than Revan by a few years, and his clothing style was more atuned to the people and culture of Limsa Lominsa. He was likely a sell sword, as this was usual of the highlanders present in Limsa Lominsa, albeit few in number as they were. The man's gaze rested upon Revan who sat in the corner, and his eyes had widened as if he had seen a ghost. He approached the man slowly and even carefully and sat before Revan at the other end of his table.


" By Rhalgyr, I do not believe my eyes!" The man leaned forward looking Revan over closely, inspecting his every feature. "When I received your message, I could not conceive it with all my mind." The man shakes his head in disbelief. "Lengalad would be most happy to hear of your return, Lord Revan. I am curious as to why you had wished not of me to inform him... where... where have you been all these years? We thought surely you were killed in the battle."


Revanoth's gaze rested upon the highlander in silent contemplation, his cerulean stare as cold as the night's rain. He leaned forward staring straight into the man's eyes, not saying a word, not hinting to any emotion, but silently he studied the man before him. "Celgad... do you dare tell me you had no hand in this?..." Revan's words were cryptic and vague, but his voice seemed cold and detached from the world around him. Celgad's growing smile just as soon faded away at the cryptic question. "...Revan. Are you alright, sir? Have I had a hand in what?"


Revan pushed the documents forward to Celgad, and the newly arrived highlander glanced down to them. "The script is that of the Garlean empire, Celgad... documents that fate had brought into my grasp... Can you decipher them?" Revan asked curiously. Celgad looked down at the parchments and had shaken his head. "...I can not." Celgad replied.


Revan nodded slowly, "I, however, can." and flipped a few pages over to one of the maps, an aged parchment that was the map of the City of Ala Mihgo. There were markings and circled locations all about the map, and Revan's finger ran along all of them, pointing each and every one out. "The Garleans knew every defended position... they knew our forces as if they were their very own... why do you think that was, Celgad?"


Celgad slowly began to shake his head, "...Revan... that was a decade ago... What good does digging old maps up do us now? It simply will not undo what has been done. It will not bring us victory over the Garleans." Revan interupted, "This is not about war, Celgad... this is about justice." Celgad had shaken his head, "You are losing your mind, Revan. Our civilization is scattered... if Lengalad hadn't been working as a mercenary, we'd not have the good fortune we have now. Let the old hurts ail you no more, and do something with your life then to speculate over foreign documents of a land we know nothing about..."


The men continued to converse among each other quietly.

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