Charles
Belladonna of Taemar
Carriage along the streets, Vallen, Taemar

"*Alcohol, party, alcohol, party... Does this kid ever talk about anything else?*" The sorceress thought as she sighed. Bella almost choked on her own spit as she heard what Surany said next.

Did she hear right? The well-being of the common folk? Since when did alcohol turn nobles into people with common sense?

Bella's disbelief expression made her face a poem. Her eyebrows raised and her eyes wide open, blinking at the Lady. *"Source of income"*, with that phrase her surprise vanished like smoke in the wind. The dark haired woman had a slight hope for a brief moment.

"It's a reunion of nobility taking place in the only plague free place of the map, while the rest of the people rot. I wouldn't raise my hopes up, My Lady" Her voice was stained with disgust.
Edith
**Wilhelmina Ulster**
**Vallen, Taemar**

"Truly, I do not want to intrude on anything. You don't have to offer me your bed. I can find somewhere else to stay. The offer means much to me, however, I cannot accept. I have no right to any special privileges. Why should I have the right to stay in your bed and force you to find somewhere else?" She was genuinely grateful for the offer, but she didn't think it fair for her to take someone else's bed and have them find somewhere else to sleep. She wouldn't be able to live with herself. As tired as she was, she was going to find somewhere else. Surely there were plenty places to stay in Vallen, she did not want to make this kind man have to find somewhere else to stay.
Rosa
Gitten Maith
The Islander Camp, Vallen

 Surprised by the strength of the handshake, Gitten had foregone any sort of introduction. The man had come to grant good fortune, and they had enough pig to spare. If he was a Mainlander, he was one to sit down and eat with pirates. That kind of boldness was good enough for her. Gitten motioned for her men to bring a thick leg of pig and a deep flagon of dark rum. One of her men, impressed with the sheer size of their companion simply said, "Wee man." 

"Aye!" Gitten shooed him away with an idle hand, "He _is_ wee, aye. Offend him anymore and you risk us a fortune." The Privateer rolled her eyes, watching as a similar plate was placed before her. "You're a smithie, aye?" Gitten tore into her piece of pork, placing both of her hands beneath the lump of meat before tearing in with her teeth. "We've got smithies on the ship. Fer arrowheads and crossbow bolts. Ye eat what ye like, pygmy man. Show me yer bits and bobs once you feel like trading. Eat yer fill and bring us good fortune." 

Gitten seemed distracted through the whole affair and had made it through half of her flagon before introducing the topic of Golifred. "Have you had rum? Real, honest rum? Rum that'll make the wee hairs on yer wee arms stand up? None of that _wine_ that the Mainlanders drink. You're not an Islander. Are you from Amoroth?"
Wyatt
Golifred Ironbeard
Islander Camp, Vallen

Golifred nodded, taking a seat on a smaller stool across from Gitten. He wasn't *Quite* Big enough to hop on top of one of their full-sized stools. 

**"Aye, smithin 'as been me lifestyle since I was a boy. My father was a smith, and my grandfather before 'im."**

As soon as the plate of food and mug of rum was set in front of him, Golifred began eating hungrily, as if he hadn't eaten in days. One could relate his actions to that of a starved animal. He didn't use silverware or utensils – he ate with his hands at a frightening pace. Soon enough all the pork was gone, and all he had left to finish was his rum. Grabbing the cup with both hands, he began to gulp it down in vast amounts until there was nothing but a few drops left. Some of the drink had spilled over his lips and doused his beard, but he didn't mind. He'd set the cup back down with a *Thud* Wiping his mouth with a swipe of his sleeve. 

**"Aye, gods be praised! That there was a feast I may never forget."**

He chuckled happily as he reached down to his belt, grabbing a small leather pouch from it and setting it on the table. Untying the knot, he opened it up and brought out small, wrapped items, each about the size of a walnut. He unwrapped them one by one to reveal intricately crafted rings of steel, bronze, and even one of solid gold. These were the items of barter that he promised, each item different than the other with designs and craftsmanship that was quite hard to achieve. In order to make such objects, Golifred took weeks at a time to carefully carve every detail and line to make them objects of high quality. And worth quite a bit of money if they came across the eyes of the right buyer. 

**"Tell me, do ye have any other races on yer ships beside humans? Like elves, perhaps? I don't know much about yer job or what ye choose to do, so truth be told I'm interested about it. I haven't set foot on a ship in me entire life, I've been here in Marin. My workshop resides in the Witherlands."**
Rosa
Gitten Maith
The Islander Camp, Vallen, Taemar

 Gitten loved this man. For the first time in her life, she wanted to be around someone. She knew, deep down, that the love was not genuine. She did not desire him in any meaningful way, but that simply his presence was enough to inspire the air around her. It was how one desired a pet, or a friend, on this case, a friend who due to his short height could also become a pet. Her bites around the bone she tore from were imperfect, there was still some meat left on the bone in wayward piercings here and there. His was picked clean, like a flock of gulls. 

When he finished, she pounded her fist on the table. She had never seen someone drink a flagon of rum that quickly. "Do you want more, smithie?" She balled her fists up tight, waving over more meat and drink. "More for me, as well." They were brought jowls and porkbelly, with two large flagons of rum. 

"Do ye like it?" She took a long drawl from the flagon then took a thick slice of meat as a chaser. She inspected the greasy rings as she chewed, in the light of the bonfire beside them. "Is 'dis gold?! A fuckin' golden skull and dis one wit' tha headress?!" She slipped them on her fingers and nodded. "Whatever you want for 'em, aye. And no, I don't have any of tha halfbloods on my ship. The Drow have their own crews and they're fiercely loyal to each other on the sea. Elves are desperate, they steal things, so we let 'em off at nearest shore. Fae are strictly not allowed, and any found are killed immediately." She began to laugh, cutting off

Another slice of meat. "Aye, they're treacherous beasts, and no shifter can live among us. I once lost half a crew to a panther on board, in the middle a the ocean. It would come out at night." She reached into her shirt, removing a necklace of dried ears and panther teeth. "Do you know how many men can see a panther at night? In the brig?" She cackled. "Have you ever seen a panther, pygmy man? I have never met another man like you. Surely you are a man, as well. A short one, yes, but a man. And even if you be false, who cares? You must leave this wicked land. See a panther. Join us at the council, my brother'll take ye in. Live how us Islanders live. Then, aye, ye will know well where your loyalties lie. And, ye can feast where ye like."
Wyatt
Golifred Ironbeard
Islander Camp, Vallen

Whether they knew or could predict what Golifred was, he didn't know for sure. They were sailors and islanders and likely hadn't seen a dwarf before, as dwarves steered clear of water and stayed on land where they felt safe. Likely he was taking a bargain talkning to the islanders as he knew not what they thought of his kind, or his father's kind to be better put, but he didn't feel comfortable hiding it if he were to make friends here. He was about to remove his hat when the food arrived - and his train of thought went bye-bye. He began chowing down on the second round of food and drink almost as fast as he did the first, taking gulps of rum here and there when he got thirsty. 

**"I say that for you, lassie, the rings are gifts, if ye can do one thing for me. I'm lookin' for more business and this meetup of folks is a perfect breedin' ground for word to travel. All I ask in return for those rings is that ye tell people about my work. I'd love to have more customers and fine people such as yourself to visit my workshop someday."**

He soon began downing the flagon of rum as he did the last, this time slowing down slightly because he had already done it the first time. His belly was getting full, but he wasn't going to let that stop him from enjoying the evening. With a gentle thud, the empty cup was set back down on the table before Golifred took time to speak again.

**"Aye, elves, drow and shifter folk can be a tricky bunch, no doubt. I have yet to meet a shifter in person, but I 'ave heard stories of their kind. But 'ave ye encountered any Dwarves? I 'ear they're extinct cause of the plague, but it never hurts to ask."**
Rosa
Gitten Maith
The Islander Camp, Vallen

Gitten hastily put on the other three rings when he announced that they were gifts. This was a miracle man. "Do you know my brother?" She squared her jaw, and got the attention of the Islander's around her. "If you're looking for business, my friend, you are talking to the right lot. Later in this Council, go and see my brother, fer he will be glad you did. You can ask any of them who my brother is, and they'll tell you. I can not say that I favor 'im over me other siblings, but without 'em I would also be dead. Take that fer what ye will. But if you are a Cantile, it is our King you should be visitin'. I will take ye with later on, just say the word. No need to let business get in the way of a good meal tonight. Where are ye sleepin? It'll be safer in the camp, as opposed to some hole in tha ground." She watched as her fingers clanged noisily together, and she spread some to her other fist. 

They were all lovely. She didn't look up from her hands when he asked the question, "I donno what I dwarve is. I know what _pygmy_ man is, shorter than even you, with big heads and wide eyes. They grant miracles out in Jotun. My brother saved them, too. There are no Jotuna pirates or slavers either, so he saved them from me as well. But dwarves? That's but gibberish to me." She especially admired the way the one with the devilish horns would function in a fight. She moved it over to the fourth finger on her right hand. "What is this one?" She pointed to the foreign script on the bezel of the signet ring. "Is this the Dwarvetongue language?"
Wyatt
Golifred Ironbeard
Islander Camp, Vallen.

He listened to her description of her brother with a hint of interest. He sounded like a man with priorities and who valued family and trust, which sounded like a good man to Golifred. Of course, he wasn't a quick one to judge, so he took it lightly - but the notion remained. He was amazed that the islanders hadn't heard of a mainland dwarf. Apparently, they knew of Pygmy peoples which Golifred could assume was another nickname for some other type of dwarf of which he could not understand - being by or in water was one of his greatest fears because he sank. Golifred assumed all other dwarves did too. 

He decided since they had no idea of what a Dwarf was, to reveal his true nature in order to remove any suspicions or rumors that may turn up as time went on. Golfired removed his hat with a sigh, revealing his tattoos that covered his scalp, and his baldness that came with his dwarven heritage. 

**"Aye, mah full name's Golifred Ironbeard. As ye people put eht, I'm a half-blood meself. Aye take pride in me heritage as a dwarf, 10 generations of blacksmiths and miners come before me. On that ring, it marks prosperity and survival - two very important things in my heritage and the survival of my craft."**

He held the hat at his waist with a solemn expression, looking at Gitten and the islanders who probably had little to no idea what he was talking about.

**"I'm incredibly honored for yer notion of joining yer crew, but I don't sail. Been livin' on this rock of a country for 42 years, and I'll continue livin' here until me legs give out. We dwarves are a hearty boonch and you'll find that this much food is just a first course fohr me."**

He finished his little speech with a hearty laugh, slapping his knee with his free hand. Sure, the Islanders may not understand the joke if they didn't know dwarves, but one thing Golifred's ancestors were known for was immense feasts and appetites to rival beasts much bigger than they - it was a sight to behold if one should ever find a dwarf in an eating competition.
Michael
**Lady Surany Torok, "Lady of the Wine"**
*The Velvet Swine, Vallen, Taemar*

"And with that, my dear friend, I must agree." Her face pulled into a grimace to match the disgust filling the vehicle. "I do hope we find the cure for this damn plague soon enough. It has been a miracle so far that the people of my and father's lands haven't caught the sickness. Even if I have to cut back on my fortune and plan smarter does not mean I should force others to risk themselves for simple coin. And besides, if they all died, who would attend my parties?" There was a smirk to her last sentence, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. 

There was another few moments of silence before the carriage stopped. "Oh! We have arrived!" Just as the carriage door was opened, the noblewoman practically forced the door into the footman's nose as she eagerly left the compartment, legs stretching and her entire body aching from the journey. Of course, the smell hit her nose and she wrinkled in slight disgust, not used to the sudden onslaught of unpleasant odors. "My word, do the royal family not know of public bathing? I am sure the people would benefit greatly from this." Shaking her head, the woman gestured for Bella to follow her as she has the footmen bring her luggage inside, making sure it was not thrown about too much. "Do be careful, my good sirs. Some of my things can be quite fragile and I would really rather not buy another. Or somehow summon the dead." With a playful wink the woman hands them each two gold coins.

The group then entered the relatively large-sized inn, the wood old and inviting. It certainly was one of the nicer places in the town, and Surany had to be grateful that her traders had recommended this as their lodging. As she looked around, the Lady noticed the innkeeper, a rather short and slinky female with nice curly red hair. "Hello! I believe you have rooms set for the Lady Torok? That would be my lovely group." She nodded to her companions, a wide smile plastered on her face. After a few more words, four sets of keys were provided to the group and Surany led the way up to the rooms. 

As they approached their respected doors, she handed one key to the two men, two to Bella and kept the last one. "Bella, our rooms are not joined, so here is an extra key. Do make sure to knock before entering, and I will extend the same to you." With a wink, she quickly entered her room, with a fast "If you want, join me in a few!"
Rosa
Gitten Maith
The Islander Camp, Vallen

 "Well, you're free to stay as long as you desire." Gitten waved over another plate of hog. She watched as her men went to the rotisserie with billhooks, hacking off chunks to feed them both. Gitten held out a hand to grab the dwarf's head, to run her fingers over the distinctive tattoos, but stopped herself. He was handsome, in a way. Well proportioned, she reckoned. 

"It's no get honor to be offered a spot on my crew. That's not what I'm offerin' ye. I'm offering you a meetin' with the Pirate King. He won't care if you're an elf, or a drow, or a pygmy man. You've come 'ere, made a fair agreement, and 'ave given his First Fleet Captain five free rings. That is what my brother, any Islander, expects. Some Mainlanders see us as subhumans, halfbloods like you. My brother says that we be not in the position to choose our allies and enemies. You said the dwarves were wiped out by the recent plague? How do you know that?"
Wyatt
Golifred Ironbeard
The Islander Camp, Vallen

**"These tattoos were put on me when I was... 4 years old, I think. My father's family was very big on ancestry and heritage. I loved my grandparents... Can you believe that they were shorter than me?"**

He took a moment to think before speaking again, in a slightly more solemn tone. 

**"I've been hidin' from the sickness for...3 months now. I used to live way west, past the mountains of the witherlands. The sickness began spreadin' when I was a little boy. My father died and my mother went with 'im, and I fled. Like a fockin' coward."**

Golifred's smile shifted to a troubled frown, looking at the ground beneath his feet. The half-dwarf wasn't one to cry or show emotion, so instead, it looked more like a pout. His emotional spectrum was very limited especially in public, so all he did was show facial expression and change his tone. 

**"I can't say that I remember all that much, but I remember more when I'm workin. When there's work to be done, I can think clearer. I would be deeply honored to meet this brother of yers... Does he care for me wearin' anythin' special in 'is presence?"**
Robert
*The Grunewalds*
*Vallen, Taemar*

The old man crouched below the cob-webbed window and peered out at the commotion. He combed his arthritic fingers through his scraggly beard as his yellowed eyes jumped from person-to-person. Fear sank deep into his marrow at the prospect of what was to come. Visions of invasion and his own bloodshed gnawed at his mind with the ferocity of a thousand rats. With a low groan, he sank to the floor. He screamed at the damp stone below and promptly inhaled a dust bunny. 

King Gregor could hear his manservant choking from down the corridor. "Kenmath, stop that this instant!" Gregor barked, barreling down the hall toward him. Kenmath promptly swallowed the dust bunny and laid upon the floor in a near-dead heap. Gregor reached him and was about to reprimand him for trying to die when he spotted what had upset his servant so. Hundreds of foreigners had gathered outside his castle. Tents had been set up on the grounds. "Eh?" Gregor scratched at his chin. Kenmath had gotten onto his hands and knees and was violently dry heaving like a cat on the verge of expelling a hairball. Moments later, the dust bunny reappeared, compacted and covered in mucus. 

"My lord... War is upon us. The plague rats have come to gut us and seize our kingdom and gobs of money!" Kenmath shrieked. 

"Seize our kingdom?" Gregor asked, confounded. He watched the invaders mill about idly on his grounds. "LIKE HELL THEY WILL!" He bellowed, slamming his fist into his chest three times. He threw open the castle doors and, like an angry hog, charged toward the camps. 

"*Blood Breed*, follow your king into battle!" Kenmath screamed. The *Blood Breed*, a pair of malnourished and unbroken beings galloped in a surprising synchronocity and speed past Kenmath and after Gregor.