Christopher
"**Finally, civilization. Can't wait for a drink or two.**"

In the busy city of Alazaad, where its bustling community of various cultures culminate within the confines of their safe settlement, a woman would stand out the rest of the people like a sore thumb. For all the tradition colors of Khisfire, there is only one who bore the green colors of a woodland ranger. She hides her face behind a hood with only her golden locks peering out, shining gently in the hot sun.

Many of its denizens would gaze upon her face. Taking a small glimpse, they are mesmerized by her foreign beauty. Her features were that of a fair maiden. Homely, meek, and sincere. The rest of her body is concealed in green robes, but even so, some are curious to see what is hidden within.

Unfortunately, some were too curious for their own good. When a few guys approached her with a cocky grin, they flirted with her a few times and tried to touch her hair. Only to be met with a beat down of a lifetime with her strength surpassing that of three men. The locals began to gossip about her monstrous strength because of this incident.

"**Fucking idiots...**" With a rather annoyed look on her face, she would leave the scene with one final back kick on one of her victims' head for good measure. The rumors of a 'demon woman' now spreads like wildfire, to which the people kept her distance from her. Much to her dismay, she can't ask for directiont to the nearest tavern. 

After much searching, she finally found a tavern where the ranger can eat and rest. "**Finally!**" Opening the door with excitement, she would see a rather strange and ominous vibe going on with the denizens of the fine establishment. "**....**" Instead of happiness, she yet made another heavy sigh. Hopefully no one dumb enough would try to hit on her.

With that said, she would sit in front of the counter. Ordering the barkeep of the place for local specialties of four dishes and four drinks. Which was to the surprised the locals within.

-
Rosera paid no mind to them and started to simply wait for her order to arrive, with a hand on the counter, she placed her arm upright with her head on her palm. Having a rather bored expression that deserved a casual yawn.
Annamae
The tavern wasn't full of merely elves and other creatures alone - for sitting in a corner in a booth that held his weight upon its girthy, padded seat was a beast unlike any other - a beast whose eyes glimmered of yellowed amber and withheld annoyance. A tail swished carefully as it curled around his frame slightly - it was not quite dextrous, but it could move and shift enough to allow him a vantage point from which to sit. The Dragonborn's duo of horns hued an onyx-black curved backwards, as stiletto-slit pupils narrowed at the woman who sat at the bar counter. A spike-tipped, spine-laden tail swished agitatedly - clawed hands obfuscated by gauntlets merely began to audibly clench with the hint of grinding metal. A toothy maw full of pointed fangs found itself lapped at by a long, purple-pink tongue, forked at the very end like that of a serpent's. 

Plate armor rested around his frame, guarding his body like the chainmail and gambeson layers underneath it. Only a helmet was bereft upon the armor's otherwise encompassing features, same as with his tail and his rows of dorsal spines. Next to his sat an arming sword and a heater shield - to the dismay of the tavernkeeps, who could be seen pensively **Glaring** At the Dragonborn, whose ruby-red scales glimmered lowly in the light from those that were visible. It was as if molten fire contained themselves within them, ready to sear and roast those who would dare to assault the Dragonborn clad in such mighty armor. But it mattered little in any case - for the Ruby Gemstone Dragonborn merely sheathed his arming sword, and restrapped his heater shield to his arm with just as much swiftness.

Indeed, for he **Heard** Of the commotion - a "Demon woman" Who assaulted men. A fool, then, perhaps, who sought to enrage the authorities of this local town. But it mattered not - for he, **__Kunshokh__**, would see to the will of his patron god, Anthron. The images of war flashed in his mind - the iconography and carvings and engravings of battle and death and combat bedecked upon his burly, brawny frame. A hound-skull necklace rested upon his neck, a holy amulet of a shield crossed by two swords upon the front of it that dangled from his wrist. His armor was worn and scarred, gouged, yet it still held true and achieved its duty of protection and endurance. For indeed, Kunshokh **Marched**, every crashing thud of his sabatons thudding from the seven-foot-tall Ruby Dragonborn as he made his way to the Ranger. A forked tongue flicked out for the briefest of moments.

Then he reached her at last, and with it, stood behind her about four paces - enough to avoid being in range of her weapons, but enough to strike should he be needed. A growling punctuated his rumbling, vulcanean tone - like that of a volcano building the strength to erupt from the very ground and drown the world in hellfire and ash. Indeed, Kunshokh found other members of the tavern **Burning** A hole in his frame with their eyes, but he didn't care - let their foolish words bounce off of mighty scales like they were chaff before the Sword of Anthron. He was never to be a slave again; Kunshokh **Never** Desired to return to the life of fear and misery that gripped him once so terribly as a young hatchling.

Then at last, his words came forth, gruff and volcanic, simmering with barely-contained annoyance, though no true anger - not yet at least. For now, the Dragonborn ensured he kept his cool - he knew what would happen if he lost it, and the likelihood of fighting his way out of this town, while possible, was slim and disfavorable to his deeds and progress toward becoming a champion of Anthron. After all, he was no unintelligible **Fool** Armed with a cudgel and bludgeoning everything in sight in a vain, self-centric effort to please Anthron - no, he was an intelligent being with a thinking mind.

[C]: "You. Do you desire to bring the guards' wrath upon thine head?"

It wasn't a question so much as a pointed statement.

_ _

For after all, Kunshokh knew she was not exactly coming across, at least to him, as a capable and competent individual to say the least...

[C]: "Avoid doing such in the future. Or you will likely wind up in a worst fate then being merely referred to as a **Demon woman**."

Harsh words finished themselves with a slight grunt of notation at his own meaning, before Kunshokh prepared to turn and move back to his booth. Assuming there was nothing else to say, of course...
Christopher
The woman sat silently as she lazily closed one eye and kept one barely open. Dressing out in this kind of place was really strange, though her patrol led her to this place. And to say the least, she doesn't carry any extra clothing to make it less obvious that she's a foreigner. She was already thinking of leaving this place immediately after a hefty meal, with what she did to those three men, surely they'll take revenge. Either by more of them or by guardsmen. A bothersome thought deal with.

"***Hmm?***" The ranger could hear it. The heavy rumbling footsteps of something fierce, creaking the wooden floor with each step of their foot. Felt a presence that was rather intense for any ordinary individual here around the tavern, and perhaps something much fiercer as well. Then and there, he spoke with such grit and gruffness. His annoyance was a clear indicator that what she had done certainly made a mark on him. 

She listened his sermons closely with full attention. It was as if she was being scolded by her captain, though the thought made her a bit happy about it. After all, she is a little forgetful. Her temper always letting loose unless she wears the regal attire that aspires what a model warrior is. Flying the colors of Thyseer with grace and dignity, but amidst those militaristic discipline, she is still herself. Nothing changed other than work ethics and professionalism. And certainly, she isn't working as a soldier at the moment.

At the end of his session, the woman only grew a soft smile on her lips with her eyes slowly opening with interest. Her legs began to move on top of each other with each passing moment, thinking of what she will do next now that the Dragonborn had returned to his booth. "**Hmm~**" With a sultry hum, she would stand up from her place and slowly made her way to Kunshokh. Unlike the paladin's heavy footsteps, hers didn't even utter a single sound or a single creak of wood across the floorboard, as if she was as light as a feather.

-
Her presence wasn't that much open either. Khoshukh took all the attention after all, and that was enough to conceal herself even in plain sight. Even if her green colors were obvious, the attention of the audience lies elsewhere. Nearing him, she would sit at the opposite end of the booth. Right in front of him, Rosera had taken her seat. The only thing visible on her face was her soft lips and beautiful hair. The once golden strands of hair turned dirty blonde as they have been taken away from the rays of the sun. 

Her smile still present even in the presence of such a large individual, yet the woman doesn't seem to be scared in the slightest. "**Thank you for the scolding, I tend to forget about my temper. Hopefully you don't mind me taking a seat here. If you don't want to, just say the word.**" 

"**By the way, the name Rosera. Rosera Silvermoore. May I ask of your name, Sir Dragonborn?**"