Post by Astra on Sept 8, 2013 16:09:39 GMT -8
The day was fairly warm, which, in and of itself, was slightly odd, although a breeze carrying cold air out of the far north down into this little town did bring a little bit of reassuring familiarity to the inhabitants; the sun had already hit its peak for the day, and was just beginning to make its way down to the other side of the horizon. The forest that lay near the town was strangely quiet, and the town itself, a quaint little place simply called "home" by the people who lived there and "Verde Village" by travelers, was strangely still as well, aside from a few odd people out and about running errands; the number of which you could count on one hand.
And yet, all this went completely unnoticed by the red-haired girl who was walking in from the west. Astra was, to put it bluntly, oblivious to the world at the moment; the rumbling in her stomach was more worrying than the lack of movement in her general area. But to get food, she would need money, and, once again, she was broke. The up-and-coming swordswoman could never explain it when pressed, but whatever money she made doing simple mercenary work just seemed to vanish soon after she got it. Which was distressing, but work was never too hard to come by, and the people of northern Elibe certainly seemed to be more hospitable than the climate of their homeland would imply.
Before she fully realized where she was, Astra found herself standing in a surprisingly well-lit tavern that probably held most of the male inhabitants of the village. She took a step back out of the building, looking at the sign hanging above the door that read "The Singing Swine", and then reentered, attracting a few curious glances and stares from her vibrant hair (a warm people on the whole, but their colors were generally more subdued than those of the people she had encountered elsewhere), but no one breathed a word toward her or stopped her from walking over toward the bar, behind which the owner (a large, balding man with a round, red nose that protruded from his face and a somber expression, wearing a filthy grey apron over his tan shirt) stood, cleaning a glass that was probably dirtier than when he started, if the state of the rag he was using was any indication. "You're the owner of this place, right? Well, not sure if you do this kind of stuff here or not, but I do merc work, and if anyone comes lookin' for someone to handle something that requires this..." Astra put her thumb on the hilt of her sword, which the large man raised a thick, grey-white eyebrow at. "Can you send them my way?"
The man gave a noncommittal shrug and resumed cleaning the glass, dwarfed by his large hands, staring out past her at the other patrons. Astra stood for another second, staring, enthralled, by the strange pattern the man's rag made in the dirt in the glass, before turning around and beginning her search for an empty table.
And yet, all this went completely unnoticed by the red-haired girl who was walking in from the west. Astra was, to put it bluntly, oblivious to the world at the moment; the rumbling in her stomach was more worrying than the lack of movement in her general area. But to get food, she would need money, and, once again, she was broke. The up-and-coming swordswoman could never explain it when pressed, but whatever money she made doing simple mercenary work just seemed to vanish soon after she got it. Which was distressing, but work was never too hard to come by, and the people of northern Elibe certainly seemed to be more hospitable than the climate of their homeland would imply.
Before she fully realized where she was, Astra found herself standing in a surprisingly well-lit tavern that probably held most of the male inhabitants of the village. She took a step back out of the building, looking at the sign hanging above the door that read "The Singing Swine", and then reentered, attracting a few curious glances and stares from her vibrant hair (a warm people on the whole, but their colors were generally more subdued than those of the people she had encountered elsewhere), but no one breathed a word toward her or stopped her from walking over toward the bar, behind which the owner (a large, balding man with a round, red nose that protruded from his face and a somber expression, wearing a filthy grey apron over his tan shirt) stood, cleaning a glass that was probably dirtier than when he started, if the state of the rag he was using was any indication. "You're the owner of this place, right? Well, not sure if you do this kind of stuff here or not, but I do merc work, and if anyone comes lookin' for someone to handle something that requires this..." Astra put her thumb on the hilt of her sword, which the large man raised a thick, grey-white eyebrow at. "Can you send them my way?"
The man gave a noncommittal shrug and resumed cleaning the glass, dwarfed by his large hands, staring out past her at the other patrons. Astra stood for another second, staring, enthralled, by the strange pattern the man's rag made in the dirt in the glass, before turning around and beginning her search for an empty table.
