Brian
**Melkaire Amarth
Streets of Hexrakes, Ibethiel**

Bright sunlight greeted the warrior as he stepped out from the doorway of the Reader's building. Enthralled by the experience, he bid the kind host farewell, promising to return before closing the door behind him. It was a grand experience, something so far beyond what was normal. The Reader certainly left an impression on him, one that altered his perception of life itself to a significant degree. There was, however, a more pressing endeavor, to see with his own two eyes if the words the Seer spoke regarding his birth parents had any truth to them. 

Turning away from the building, he pressed onward down along the cobblestone street. Hands grasped tightly at the strap that held the sheathed sword at his back, holding it close and secured to his back. During his stroll, he contemplated his next course of action. According to the red-haired Seer, his mother was married to a wealthy man while the father was an alcoholic and a hobo. The latter would be much easier to find between the two. A city like this one had no shortage of walks of life that fit the bill, and likely word of mouth would merit better results in finding the father over the mother. 

"It is decided, then." He said to himself, coming to the notion that his best bet to start his search would be at a tavern, where many a drunkard come to indulge in their habits. Even he would be remiss in not taking the opportunity to have a drink, himself. Allowing for the lubrication of alcohol to help smooth out the process that was undertaken in trying to settle all his thoughts in his head.

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He passed by crowds of folks that traversed the street and the others that stood by, engaging in their own conversations. A passing glance, nothing more, was drawn to them as he treads around them in the midst of his trek. Moments of curiosity and wonder broke up the monotony. Eyes searched their faces, unbeknownst to them. He found himself wondering on the topics of their discussions, trying to hear word of anything of note. 

Before long, the lone warrior made his arrival to a tavern. From the outside it looks cheerful, beautiful and enchanting. Sandstone bricks and marble details make up most of the building's outer structure. It was difficult for him to see through the windows, but the sounds of clapping and cheering from within can be felt outside.

His weathered hand reached to grasp hold of the iron handle and pressed against it to enter the tavern through the old, wooden door, and was welcomed by a pleasant atmosphere and the smell of alcohol. The bartender: a buxom woman with bronze skin and dark, sable curls was heavily burdened with orders, but still managed to greet the tall warrior with a smile and welcoming nod.

It was as charming inside as it is on the outside. Hard-wooden beams support the upper floor and the sconces attached to them. The walls are littered with so many different memorabilia, he was not sure if they tried going for a specific style at one time or just put up anything they like.

The interior of the tavern itself was packed. Workers seem to be the primary clientele here, which is probably the best clientele for the owner. Several long tables are occupied by happy, excited groups of people, some are dancing on the table, while others cheer them on with clapping and yelling. The other, smaller tables are also occupied by people who seem to be enjoying themselves a lot, perhaps too much, if such a thing is possible. Even most of the stools at the bar are occupied, though nobody seems to mind more company.

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Scanning the patrons, he gauged their demeanor, trying to ascertain who was a potential threat and who was not. Old habits die hard. He came to an eventual ease with the acknowledgement that this establishment was likely a classier place than what he had been accustomed to as a sell sword. With the proximity alone of location so deep within the capital city, he felt assured that he would be spared of the usual miscreants and thugs that were typically found in such places. 

At the far end of the tavern, a still vacant table laid bare and unattended. Immediately, Melkaire pressed on, making a detour to the bar just long enough to order himself a stein of honeyed mead, and proceeded to make his way to the vacant table with stein in hand. A soft thud resounded with the placement of cask, while opposing appendage grasped at the back of a seat, pulling it back just enough to allot the space for him to lower himself to sit. A stoic expression embodied his features as he gazed out across the tavern with a weary eye. His right hand reached for the handle of his mead, lifting it to parting lips to take a sip from its contents. —
Corey
Belladonna of Taemar
Local tavern in Hexrakes, Ibethiel

"And that, my kind sir, means I win yet again" The sorceress announced to the table as she took the small pile of coins. She smiled to herself as she collected the coins and put them in a small sack. It was like stealing candy from a child, given that the men were dead drunk and vulnerable.

"With sssuch beauty... It norrmal" One of the three men at the table playing cards with her said, trying really hard to make sense as he spoke.

"Oh you flatter me, mister..." She weighted the small sack in her hand, deciding it was enough for today "... Now I must leave" She got up and started to leave the table when one of the men grabbed her arm. She sharply turned around, murder in her eyes.

"You cheated, I know!" He claimed, loud enough for the tavern to go quiet.

"I won fair and square, now let go of me!"

"You may have tricked them, but I'm smart!" He got louder with each word he said "You are a witch! A witch!" He roared. She gulped. This one wasn't from Ibethiel apparently, here people barely believed in magic.

"Stop saying mad things and let go of me! NOW!" The candles nearby started to burn with slightly larger flames, which moved violently. She saw some men and women looking up at those words, she only wished they weren't from places where magic beings were believed to be better burnt. Belladonna got ready to flee.
Brian
**Melkaire Amarth
Local tavern in Hexrakes, Ibethiel**

With the dip of the bearded chin, Melkaire's gaze fell to the table, focusing on the stein. His long strands of dark brown hair fell in a cascade around the sides of his bearded face, spilling out well past his shoulders. Taken up by the sweep of inward thoughts, he idly stared ahead at the stein, contemplating his next step, what it was that he had to do. There was only so much coin he had from past exploits. Sooner or later, he'd have to look for work to keep up with the pace of life. 

The clamoring voices deafened out most of the commotion until a voice rising in rage made an accusation that had rendered the crowd silent. This, in turn, earned the warrior's attention as well. His head turned, lifting his cerulean hues up to the crowd and glared through narrowing eyelids to the sight of an angry man with an equally angry grip held fast on the arm of a woman. A scowl formed on features previously stoic and emotionless. A blind reach of his hand took hold of the stein and brought it to parting lips. Several gulps were taken, drawing the contents of the stein down his throat before placing it back down, and wiped the excess from the corners of his mouth away by the back of the wrist from his other arm. 

Melkaire rose from his seat, pushing the chair back. The right hand gripped at the strap of the sheathed sword, sliding it over his shoulder in the midst of his walk, glaring at the angry man as he resisted the woman's protest, calling her a Witch. At the sound of her voice bellowing out in a shout, a wave of pressure was felt moving from her, pushing past him and sending the nearby candles flaring with life was not lost on him.

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The other two that sat at the table flashed Melkaire threatening glares. Their inebriation played against their better judgment in the way they regarded the warrior as he drew near. Undaunted by their gaze, he brazenly reached out with his right hand, grasping the man at the very same arm he held the woman by. 

"Release her. Now." Though his accented tones remained relatively calm, one could hear the undertone of growl that rumbled forth from the depths of his throat. "You lost because you were distracted by her looks and your drinking. It has impacted your judgment. Calling her a Witch just makes you look more like a weakminded fool." He stated a matter of fact, flashing a glance to the onlooking patrons that watched the scene unfold. "Making the people here nervous." His eyes narrowed, applying pressure to the squeeze of his hand to his arm to encourage the man to release the Witch. 

"Oi!" Shouted a slightly portly, balding man that rose from his seat with a height that nearly matched that of Melkaire's, "Git yer 'and off o' me friend, or they'll be—" The man's words became cut off suddenly with a quick swing from the back of Melkaire's freed hand. The blow struck with a sound that had several cringing in reaction while they watched the man fall to the ground. Melkaire's eyes soon returned to the sore loser. Features twisting with growing irritation. 

"Do as the woman says and apologize for your foolishness. There is no such thing as magic. No such thing as Witches." Whether it was true or not, it didn't matter. It was the common belief in Ibethiel: a factor he'd play on with the presented act of intimidation.
Corey
Belladonna of Taemar
Local tavern in Hexrakes, Ibethiel

As an unknown man approached her breath quickened. *Oh great, fight time... I'm too tired for this*, she thought. Her eyes got wide in surprise as her eyebrows rose when he spoke to defend her. A smirk grew in her face. He might be human, but he was big and seemed strong, which was perfect for the situation. The punch was unexpected, but welcomed. The sorceress fixed the sleeve of her silk dress as soon as she was freed from the grasp and looked around.

"Back to your business, next round is on me for everyone" She announced, hopping that would dissolve the tension. The crowd cheered and she sighed in relief. She turned around to face the man that just aided her, gratitute all over her face.

"As for you, may I personally invite you to your next drink, mister...?" She left the question in the air for him to answer, as she eyed him head to toe, examining him with her reddish-brown eyes. No sign of a single drop of magic in him, as she thought. As much as she repudiated humans, her manners wouldn't let her not show gratitude towards a helping hand.
Brian
**Melkaire Amarth
Local tavern in Hexrakes, Ibethiel**

While he was not one to ever shy away from a fight from anyone or anything, Melkaire was different from others of his stature, size, and temperament. There was a strategy to his thought process; recognizing that an all-out brawl in the bar would be counterproductive, to say the least. Fortunately, just enough force that was applied was necessary to make his point across. A slow nod of the head was given to the man when the woman freed herself from his grasp and continued to stare in a threatening way as the accuser and his still conscious friend picked their companion up and off the floor, carrying him out of the tavern. 

Eyes turned to the many faces that were watching him in a myriad of different expressions. The awkward moment was soon dispelled by the voice of the woman announcing a round of drinks for those in attendance. A deafening roar filled the interior with their cheering voices. A wave of relief and ease washed over the others that seemed quick to dismiss what had just transpired. His attention moved back to the woman with oddly yet beautiful eyes, lifting his left hand to grasp at fallen strands of his hair, and guided them to be tucked away behind his ear. 

The invitation was humbling and unexpected. A subtle lift of eyebrows became the sight of his first initial reaction. A quick turn of the head had him glancing over his shoulder towards the table he sat at, eyeballing the stein that was nearly emptied. "Aye." Accepted the warrior with a sound akin to a grunt, and returned cerulean eyes to behold the sight of her. "Could always use more mead." He added.

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A quick scan had his eyes slowly move over her from head to toe. She seemed well enough, aside from the discomfort of the grasp at her arm, the woman appeared no worse for wear. "Forgive me for interfering." A slight bow of the head was given in offering. "I just could not stand idly by. I did not like the look in that man's eyes. Ill intentions had among the lot of them." One thing he was certain of from his years was the nature of man. That look of hunger and desire had been seen by those even less savory than those that just left. With a shake of the head and a sigh, he offered a smile to the stranger. 

"My table is empty if you wish to join me there." He invited, a casual lift of his right hand made motioning wave towards the table he was just at.