Mike
**__Ruairidh's Diary: Day 89, page 31; Irunia - "Cesin's Chuckle" Tavern__**
𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐚 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐈'𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐚𝐧 𝐮𝐩𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞. 𝐒𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭... 𝐈 𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟? 𝐆𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐈'𝐯𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐨 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞 '𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐲' 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠. 
𝐀𝐧𝐲𝐰𝐚𝐲, 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐞𝐬:

𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐥,
𝐈'𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐎𝐧𝐢 𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐥. 𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐧𝐨𝐰, 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐞𝐱𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐈'𝐦 𝐭𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞. 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐢𝐫𝐤 𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐚... 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐈 𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐞𝐱𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. 

𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐲 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲, 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐫. 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟: 𝐒𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞.

𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐚𝐬 𝐈 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐥𝐟-𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭... 𝐎𝐫 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥, 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐩 𝐤𝐧𝐢𝐟𝐞-𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞. 𝐓𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐫, 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐈 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐚 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭. 
𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞'𝐬 𝐚 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦, 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐈'𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚... '𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭' 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲. 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐰.

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩; 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩'𝐬 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐬, 𝐈 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐚𝐲. 𝐓𝐞𝐥𝐲𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐝. 𝐈 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫. 

𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡, 𝐈'𝐦 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐏𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐚. 𝐈 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐃𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐧𝐨𝐭-𝐞𝐱𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐨𝐛𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬... 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞'𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝, 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭? 𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈'𝐦 𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝-𝐝𝐮𝐭𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭. 
𝐈 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰.
April
*Ruaridh, The Lost
Rauridh, The Vagrant
Rauridh, The Turnover 

The Elf-child of poor circumstance had managed to lie in his very own diary, running away from reality as much as his past life. His talk had changed, his stance, his valor. He'd grown, but also grown disfigured - not by form, "Elves of his standard manage to swoon in the landscape", after all. 
No, it had been like the slow trudge of a valiant army through the soil of his heart. Though one might wish that a rotten household could never be called home, this one had hardly readied himself for such drastic escape. And worse-so, such indignant loss of all that the bastard child could call pure, like his mother.

For 16 days, he's worked the tavern, and 16 rests had proven too short. He was on edge, though felt it not, he was ungrounded, a sense of spiritual tiredness making one feel like a shiver, from the heart, and where the breath is clear like mountains, when it should be damp and thick like the smoke of pipeweed. 

The boy had cleansed the cups and worked a sweat for days, learnt to take little worry, though the drats and scallywags called his contemporaries amongst this establishment had proven... Daft. Slow... The poor child with a noble's sensitivities stood out and burnt a slow harass upon his fellowship. 
It was this... Clarity of mind, that had brought his last job to grinding halt; A violent and rascal Dwarf had grown curious to test the man, and a false accusation later, saw swords drawn and an elf on the run. 
Just another month in Drase for this one.*
Sandy
Ru:
*The young man groaned, as he pushed himself from the bar after another shift had come to end. He'd been looking forward to his next 7 or-so hours of freedom, which he had assured himself were meant for sleep and little else. He'd slept little these past few days. He wondered if it was worry or simply excitement.*
Mike
*As he trot from the establishment to the back-alley where the 'crew' as the bartender liked to dub his underpaid workforce had their horses and troughs, he rubbed the sweat from his brow, with the cloth of his dirty apron. He was wearing a barboy's attire. White linen shirt turned a hint of yellow from pipe-smoke and sweat over the years, baggy pants and traveler's boots, all revealed as he freed himself from the apron and tossed it in the trough to clean, as he doused his face and neck with the water with his hands. 

His horse, Aki, peered at him with a curious glance. She was patient as always, though was not yet used to the fact he had begun keeping his weaponry stowed on her even during rest-days; she'd not noticed the last thievery on the road, though he surely hadn't. His face was drenched in water as he ruffled his hair.*
Molly
*From the cold night's breeze chills go down anyone's spine in that dark alley being alone behind a small tavern under the moonlight alone that's shinning dim in place of horses only a few things could be seen and the tiredness of the elfmakes it worse*

*A sound could be heard coming from the end of the alley a shadow can barely be seen and it's so big it consumes the little moonlight that there is the the sound gets closer and it's clearly the sound of a blade being dragged on the ground and leaving a trail with sounds of armor and clothes moving making noises*

*The back end of the tavern soon gets covered with the shadow of whatever huge being that comes in soon revealing a 3 meter long titan with lots of weapons and armor slowly coming inside the alley dragging his long sword along the ground and a huge shield in his other hand with a longbow on his back*

*Colored in black and under the moonlight one can barely distinguish the parts from each other he raises his sword aiming at the elf with his eyes gazing down on him he says*
"To death my enemy"
Steven
*(just a quick tip, you miiiiight wanna start using punctuation more)*
April
*Long ears perked. Instant worry. An elf caught unawares and unguarded from the emergence of shade incarnate behind him. It seems in Irunia, the darkness holds much worse than mere trickery and boogiemen.. A figure mammoth had somehow caught him unawares, and as his eyes managed to adjust to the dark, the glint of the blade in the moonlight had already shone a grim destiny.*
Mike
*It'd never been the first time for most of the worst, for this one. It wasn't the first nor the last time a figure larger, and more worrisome stood to undermine him. Surely. 
Hopefully. 
He'd learnt that danger comes in many facets, but universal was their greatest enemy: Calm and center. One hand on the rim of the trough for balance, one foot gently placed for lunge, though a figure still kept clearly down and unarmed, his voice a deeper, surer though clearly unnerved, as he spoke:* 

"Now, now mister, I'm sure there's been a misunderstanding!"

*His body keen on a dodge when, or if, the sword turned swing abode for his form. He knew he was quick, and knew he was strong. Perhaps there was a chance to weave free, came push to shove?*
Molly
*The titan didn't seem to care about what he said or what he did it was like the usual for him, he was used to the enemies trying to flee or when they start begging is when it hurted him the most, but to no end as his job was to get his hands dirty at least he did it for a good cause at least he only killed the bad people of this world*

*He slowly got closer and closer as he started to prepare his huge sword and get into stance for cutting this elf in half and finishing his job quickly and quietly, an unarmed enemy but doesn't matter the job comes first anything else can be ignored*

*He gets close enough so that the elf is in his long swords range he raises the long sword and in a fast slash he brings it down onto the elf*
April
*Cruel machinations of a man o' murder sprung to life. A mechanism of violence and singular purpose seemed befit to perform cruel judgement unto the young elf. Ruairidh's body tense and ready for the strike, his mind addled by concern for the why and when. A blade in the dark, a shade of disdain and moral disparity, to hunt the heart as well as body of man.*
Mike
Flight! Mortality clarified and now all there must be is reflex and strained muscle. With all his might inside him, he flung himself from the trough and away from the arc of the blade, putting fair worth of a 2 meter's distance between he and his assailant. Mortality kept in check for now, his hands up in a warding pose, as he uttered, wasting precious breath.* 
"Whoah! Listen, we can talk about this! Seriously, you got the wrong man!"
Molly
*The titan seemed more or less like a mindless husk, not caring much for what the elf babbled he moved again to get closer and in range for another attack while doing that he said*
"That's what they all say, but you are my enemy, you are the one who killed those men"

*All of a sudden in the middle of talking he charged at the elf with his huge shield trying to bash him with it and through him on the ground to open him for an attack with the long sword*
"To death!" *He cried*
Mike
"Killed which men?!" The elf snarked back, as he did his best to back-step from the shield, knowing the blade had little room to arc horizontally in that case. What he hadn't realized was that his back was now against a wooden fence. A mustering of all his haste and strength, and - one sprained ankle later, seeing him limp oddly, had seen him roll to the assailant's side. Mayhaps his blade would get stuck in the wooden planking? Mayhaps not.

"Be specific, gods-damnit man!" He barked in a more-than miffed tonality, somehow his upbringing saw him sound more ardently-well worded, the higher the stress.