Laughter and chatter rang through the smokey tavern, the smell of burning ham was in the musky air. The wooden tables in the room looked like giant spools with lanterns on one every other few, the middle of the room was a fire pit for cooking the meat and food that was free to take when it was ready. Men and women were scattered everywhere in the area chatting about anything they could think of, singing in drunken tones, or telling stories. The room was large and big enough to possibly be a stable. The upper level was an inn that was two levels over the tavern.<br/><br/>In one corner a boy was playing the lute for money which even Myth couldn't help but feel sorry for the poor lad. Getting up from his stool he walked over to the lad and gave him coin, leaving Mythril hardly enough to buy two more drinks of any kind. Walking back he sat down and looked to the four men talking again. It seemed like they were talking of a tournament. Sipping lightly from the pint he crossed one arm on the table and leaned close, holding the metal tankard. He had never really seen a tournament since he had been in the College of Magic. But that one had been for spell casting.<br/><br/>The tournament from what he was hearing was about a princess offering a war stallion to the winner but under one condition it seemed. That the winner had to defeat her in something... he thought they said combat. Though by doing so they couldn't hurt her other wise the prize would be gold... he sighed. He had one gold coin and mostly silver. All that was left of the money the king gave him before he was told to leave the kingdom he was born in. The king had liked him but he didn't want Mythril to stay before of what happened, he didn't want people to hurt him in anger.<br/><br/>Rubbing his face Mythril looked around and sipped more of his drink before taking a silver coin and handed it to the bar maid, pointing to the meat over the fire. She rose a brow and he smiled softly, she grumbled and said something about peddler nobles and he narrowed his eyes. He was paying for the food that was free, she should be happy not being mean. When the woman came back she dropped the plate onto his table and stormed off. Watching her he growled and snapped his fingers, she tripped and fell into a barrel. Mythril then put the dropped and rolled food back on his plate with a disgusted look.<br/><br/>Who knows what had sat on the table before hand, now he was not hungry anymore. Yes, Mythril was picky about what he ate. Sighing he looked to the tavern dog and set the food on the floor. The scruffy yet thin mutt ran over and  and began to eat the food. Mythril stroked the fur of the dog and smiled. Looking to the men as they looked anxious now. What was going on? THe mage looked interested again.<br/><br/>In came a tall male wearing armor and a dark cloak, walking towards the group who greeted him with the strangest code signal he ever saw but he watched. The man slapped a couple on the back looking proud. His burly mountain beard was probably the most outstanding thing he had on himself, made Mythril glad his family couldn't have facial hair. Listening he heard chatter get louder all around him and he growled. Wait he could faintly hear soothing about the man's latest "capture". Capture? He was a guard though from the looks of it so what did he capture? He wanted to know but how...<br/><br/>Wait he could know! Grinning he walked into a dark room hallway and out stepped later a tall dark barbaric armored male came out. He was not suspicious at all, there were a few others in the tavern drinking and flirting with the bar maid who he tripped earlier. Walking over he filled his cup with water from a barrel and walked over closer. Sitting and began to listen, turning his water into rum with a chuckle of silence.