<b>Name:</b>Valery Bucren.<br/><b>Location:</b>Blood on the Vine, tavern of Boravia.<br/><b>Tagging:</b>Xavier (xavierrol), Pias and the other gyspies.<br/><div style="text-align: center">--​</div><br/>Bucren knew a bribe when he saw one, eyes following as the bodyguard returned, along with a bottle of wine and two cups. Not that he was unwelcoming to the idea. Nor unaccustomed. In fact it was usually Bucren doing the bribing to get anything extra out of Boravia, since most saw giving or telling him anything to be a waste, since he too was an outsider. But what information could he offer up? It wasn’t as if the townsfolk trusted him with any real secrets. Though perhaps in that moment, he knew enough, at least in general information, that could be very useful to an outsider. But something was compelling him to speak regardless of wine or other bribes. Ismark had said something very strange indeed.<i>Those girls looked just like Ireena he had said.</i>Well forget the wine, Bucren was more interested in an information-for-information deal. And no doubt this man had more answers than anyone else in Boravia had about the entire ordeal with the Lady Ireena and her<i>supposed</i>daughters.<br/><br/>“Lucky you. Shoulda stayed there.” Bucren commented with his usual dry tone when the escort commented on his experience on the roads, half-grinning. Better out there than in here. A spike of nostalgia and sorrow welled up in Bucren for a second, missing his own adventurous days before he got stuck here in this miserable shithole.<i>The second floor windows are boarded as well, these are some extraordinary wolves you have here.</i>“So you’ve noticed.” Bucren responded with his same sardonic voice, folding his hands over his lower abdomen, intertwining his own fingers. He was still slumped back, watching the other man, waiting for the true question, which was soon forthcoming.<br/><br/>“The only faith in Boravia is the one people have in their steel and iron, which you can see isn’t all that great to begin with.” Bucren remarked first, though it wasn’t entirely true. Some people still believed. You had to do something to help stem off the constant threat and presence of death, which could easily be coming for you next. “No, those symbols are for something far worse, and intelligent, than wolves. You never saw anything…else on your approach up? I never trusted in magical symbols myself. Trust in the people you know. Like the Burgomaster. He’s the one you want to speak to. When morning comes, I can show you the way.” Thunder still clapped outside and Bucren paused for a moment, raising his glance to look up at the ceiling. Not for the thunder, but again in thought of Ismark. It was a violent night out here. Why wasn’t the man with his family?<br/><br/>He paid little attention to the food or drink either. It was the greatest foolery to forgo a meal in Boravia. But Bucren felt as if he had no appetite that night. There was excitement jolting in him and not the good kind either. More of an anxiety than anything. A man and two girls entered Boravia not an hour ago and Bucren felt like the place had flipped over on itself. There were too many strange occurrences happening at once. “Look friend - what is your name anyways? - you clearly know something I do not, and I know something you do not. Why don’t we quit prevaricating about the bush and-“<br/><br/>His attention was jerked abruptly when he saw Pias making the symbol. At once Bucren straightened in his chair, hands at his side, one gripping the hilt of his dagger while he dropped his bow and quiver to the side, to help loosen some weight on him. He didn’t say a word, watching the gypsies first and gauging their reactions. The tavern fell silent enough to almost hear one’s own heart beat. The prowling of the wolves therefore felt as profound as the drums of thunder above.<i>No, this was very different.</i>They didn’t often come in this far and in so many numbers. He glanced back to the man across from him again. These three had something to do with the increased violence lately. Bucren didn’t believe in fate, but there were far too many coincidences happening this evening that was shaking that skepticism.<i>And what the gypsy woman had once said to him when he first arrived…</i><br/><br/>Then came…the begging. A womanly voice, desperate and scared, pleading to be let in. She had gold by all account, though by watching the door warden he wondered why these greedy bastards weren’t jumping on that. Wasn’t their entire pricing strategy based on coaxing people very near to death for all they had? It was too much for Bucren. He got up to his feet, thrusting his chair back. “You heartless bastards, open the door. What’s the matter with you? Are you scared? There’s one of her, a dozen of us. If she’s something else, I’m sure we can put her down.” He only lifted a hand to Xavier, asking for a moment, as he stepped to the gypsy’s, to Pias in particular.<br/><br/>“You leave her out there screaming, it might draw something worse than wolves. Let her in so we can shut her up and get through this night in peace. Or do you want me to open that door?” Bucren said, taking another step towards the door, fully intending to open it and see whoever was screaming outside. It didn’t sound like any woman he knew in Boravia but with the volume of outsiders they got today, he wouldn’t put it off as another traveler just stuck out there in a shitty time.