A Consort, a Harlot, and a Lady in Waiting
Let me tell you of our leading lady, for she runs the stage whether the curtains are drawn or not. If you can pull your gaze from those luscious curves, the catlike grace or god given beauty I beg thee do not tarry a look into her eyes, for she will captivate you, enthrall you even with but a glance. No she is not a vampire, a nymph, nor a demon, though qualities of all three make her far more dangerous. I speak of course of our guild mistress, our beloved leader and dispenser of opportunity and fortune, the illustrious Lady Z.
Calypso: Guild Scribe
Anabelle Zelphyr is a woman of uncanny beauty, charm and intelligence. With ample curves, a buxom bosom and eyes of emerald that pierce the soul, Anabelle walks with the strut of a dancer, and the confidence of a politician. It is this combination that allowed her to enter into such prominence within Bayris as quickly as she has. Arriving only a year ago, the woman of 30 years entered alone, carrying little more than her silver tongue and beautiful looks. It is said upon her first night in Bayris, she won room and board at a run down inn and brothel. By the end of the week stories tell that she had gotten on the good graces of the sleazy proprietor, working as a discreet companion, secretly biding her time and rousing the poorly treated ‘ladies in waiting’ to the prospect of better working conditions, including hours, pay, and most of all, respect for themselves and from their clientele. It took little more than a month before variations tell of how the former proprietor had steadily grown more and more ill, until upon his deathbed signed over the ramshackle business to his favored consort. Other’s say he was swindled in a game of Hazards, a foreign duel of wit and mental prowess from the lands of Pardinal. Others still say he was forced under duress at the hands of his former employees to sign over the building on pain of death, only to flee the city wearing nothing but his britches and humiliation upon his face.

Whatever the truth of the matter, When Anabelle Zelphyr, took charge of the place, she reinvented it. In only a few weeks, the building had been completely redesigned, the dilapidated cesspool of a business now stood proudly on Sea’s End, ‘The Wanton Harlot’ overlooking the Krag Marina. There were protests at first about the public services offered at this seaside refuge, but they were quickly and quietly quelled as coin fell into influential pockets, and favorable suitors were gifted to men of status. The Wanton Harlot soon grew, taking over the warehouse next to it, where once expansions were complete, a full tavern and inn was erected. In truth, while ‘companions’ were still available, it was the Tavern that brought life to the ‘Harlot’. It was here that “Lady Z,” began to broaden her horizons ever further.

And how better than to reach those horizons then by sea. Anabelle at first went through the regular red tape, of the Merchant League, hiring ships and crew to import and export small quantities of foreign liquors and ales, foods and spices. But she found soon enough that every middle man, from fish monger all the way up to the Council itself liked to dip into ones pocket, and to the business oriented mind of Annabelle Zelphyr, there was only one way to prevent skimming her profits. She would cut out the middlemen completely she but needed time, and approval.

Going before the Council of Commandments herself, it is said Anabelle wooed her way into favor with a aging councilman, and after a frivolous week behind closed doors spent 'scratching his back' as it were, the kindness was returned as she left his estate Guild Writ in hand, many of the details left to be penned by an eloquent female hand. It was then that the call was first put out for adventurers, tradesmen, crewmen and guild hands to join Annabelle’s “Crimson Blades.”

While many question where the name originated from, Anabelle, merely smiles at the term, as though it holds some nostalgic importance to her. It was here however that officially, the ‘Blades’ were born.
“The perfect tool for every task;” Lady Z would say. It was here that specialists in various fields were gathered, and the adventures began. It was here that beneath the clamor of a bustling tavern and inn the headquarters for the fledgling guild were built, its entrance cleverly concealed within a giant Wine Keg kept hidden in the back of the storehouse. It is here, that would be heroes were made…

But that’s another story, and that was some 8 months ago. Now, the ‘Harlot’ is a promising business, seeing hundreds of visitors each week. Inside, exotic pipe weeds, foreign delights and potent liquors lure patrons from abroad beyond its humble doors, promising a respite from the troubles of reality, and offering many a dream come true. Be it for business or pleasure, the “Harlot” was not one to disappoint. So much so has the business flourished in recent months, that the Crimson Blades, have actually acquired their first and only seafaring vessel. Construction is almost complete upon Lady Z’s crowning achievement. A Merchant Galley stretching three fathoms, rivaling all but the largest and most extravagant of the nobility’s vessels. A testament to feminine prowess, “The Lady In Waiting” sits high upon the waters in the Krag Marina, its cherry hued wood and gold coated rails leave little expense unaccounted for, three masts bearing the Guild Standard of a Blood Red Cutlass over a Blue Field with white waves stand proudly, reaching for the sky as though they too, like the horizon, were no longer out of reach.

Truly it is a flagship like no other, and its maiden voyage is fast approaching…

25th day of Letra Tey
2:47am
Taskarren Coast
For centuries before, and centuries to come the tide has risen and fallen, to crash against the Taskarren coast of Antaron with the ebb and flow of time. Long before the great piers of Bayris housed floating bastions of wood and steel, before the first pirate ever called “avast!”, and before the first tree was felled in the interest of settlement, these coastal waters were already claimed by an ancient being of incredible power. For the past thousand years it has laid in wait patiently biding its time, impervious to the passage of time. Over the years it has been called many things. “Kraken, Leviathan, Cardista’s Wrath, by the humans, Aear ‘aha (Sea’s Rage) by the Sylvari, and even whispered as far inland as the Kingdom of Khordal to something crudely translated as the ‘earth’s wet bastard daughter‘ in their heavy tongue. No matter the name or the pitiful excuse of existence from which the term was derived however, ‘it’ has slept in patience, growing ever stronger feeding off the very lifeblood of the world, waiting for its chance to reclaim the lands left by the God’s, an endless feeding ground for its insatiable hunger.

City State of Bayris: Old Cove
In the dark of night, under a starless sky shadows danced and cavorted amongst the warehouses and piers lining the docks, the water’s calm blackness lapping at the shores under the wooden pillars supporting the walkways out over the bay. These shadows however did not stay affixed in silent vigilance to their material counterparts. Instead they moved of their own volition, with purpose, searching for something, someone to set into motion the first of many incidents that would rock the face of Antaron.

Sitting hunched under the pier, huddled in scrap canvas for warmth sat a bedraggled and beleaguered man. Skin pulled taught against his skeletal frame, the starving man shivered against the cold of night, his makeshift fire in the sand beside him providing little protection from the chill of the eve. Glassy eyes, empty of hope of ambition stared off into the bay as the water lapped at the shore just below his bare feet, dug into the sand for protection from the elements. He shivered again, and pulled his pitiful shelter closer, though it did little against the pervasive cold. A third shiver coursed down his spine, though this time it was not from the tidal winds. Years ago, this now empty man had been a fearsome pirate, his heart now void of passion, but his instincts, buried beneath guilt and shame still intact. He shifted uncomfortably casting his gaze around him, blinking numerous times as though his mind fought to comprehend what his eyes surveyed. Even in the dark of night, the flames of his fire providing a modicum of illumination, it seemed as though a darkness, blacker than night, deeper than anything he had ever seen before swirled amongst the weathered pillars towards him. His hand instinctively went to his side, where his faithful blade had been for many years, where now, his fingers met nothing but air, his sword sold for food and drink months before.

Instincts still guiding him, the darkness growing ever closer, the man reached into his fire, his hands gripping a piece of dried flotsam, the makeshift torch searing his hand as embers and flame licked his skin. Gritting his teeth, and waving the feeble defense against the darkness. The man skittered backwards, shedding his canvas blanket, his ragged clothes pockmarked with tears and stains; the stitching coming undone along many of the seams. He retreated, waving the flaming board before him, calling out in a raspy voice to the phenomena.

“Wha, What in the hell’s are you?”

Ever silent, the shadow came forward, undeterred by the fire waved before it. It swept over the flame, not extinguishing it, but enveloping it within its void, and as soon as the first trace of the utter darkness touched the white knuckled hand of the former sailor, he felt as though his very soul had been crushed under the weight of a thousand sorrows. In the blink of an eye, every painful memory he had ever experienced came back to him, amplified a hundred times. His returning home from a month at sea, to find his wife in bed with another man, his blind rage and the murder it had lead to, a flight upon the seas only to have his second love, his ship, sunk by the Marteal Guard on grounds of piracy, and his impoverished existence ever since he washed up upon the shore after days at sea clinging to nothing more than the very flotsam he now burned for warmth. He was a shadow of his former self. An empty shell void of anything but self loathing and rage, the perfect vessel for the shadows which swirled around him, embraced him, called to him, claimed him.

As the darkness enveloped him, the man stood upon legs that wobbled like a marionette, its strings pulled by some foreign hand. Without a word, the former man, eyes void of light or colour, replaced by absolute darkness, walked unsteadily towards the waters that whispered to him.. As his bare feet entered the frigid water, he did not stir, no shiver found its way up his spine, no Goosebumps dotted his skin. When the water’s had reached his waist, onwards he trudged into the black, unaffected by the tide that pushed against him. As the swell rose to his lips, he accepted the saltwater as though it were air, and as the tide overtook his height of nearly six feet, all traces of the man faded with the receding tide, save for the scraps of canvas, and the embers of a fire, destined to die long before Solanis woke the sun.

City State of Bayris: Bazaar
5:30pm
“Get your authentic carnival masks here! Each one has been blessed by a priest of Shinara herself,” called a hawker waving an extravagant golden mask adorned with feathers back and forth, trying to draw attention to his stand, vying against a dozen other vendors in the Merchant Quarter trying to do likewise. The 25th of Letra Tey, or the beginning of the Carnival of Masks, marked the beginning of the new trade year, and it was upon this three day celebration that all of Bayris and many from afar took to the market streets day and night to browse, purchase and sell items from across Antaron, each trying to outsell or out haggle the next, and all giving thanks and prayer to Shinara for her blessings upon their businesses.

Bards, minstrels and troubadours filled the air with music and song. Pyrotechnics and magic filled the sky adding to the festivities as people dressed up in lavish costumes and filled the streets honoring the Lady of Luck. Tavern’s and inn’s would often make more income within these three days, than they would in the next month, and every door was open, every inch of space made available for a potential customer. The Wanton Harlot was no different. Its doors had been revolving for almost two weeks as travelers arrived early, and with heavy purses to ensure they had accommodations during the festivities. Liquor flowed endlessly as the staff of the successful establishment did there best to cater to the needs of the influx of clientele. This was their first Carnival of Masks, and prepared as they thought they were, Anabelle Zelphyr was amazed at just how many people flooded the city, and by association, through her doors. Anabelle had recalled all of the Crimson Blade’s for this celebration, for added protection during the hectic festival. More reliable than the Market Guards who would have their hands full with the would be ‘opportunists,’ the guild mistress was more than willing to let those in her employ enjoy the celebration, just thankful to know they were nearby should the need arise.

As Anabelle, or “Lady Z” squeezed her way through the throng of patrons outside for a quick breath of fresh air, no less than three sets of hands found their way to her derriere, one daring soul even groping a fleshy globe which outlined her ample cleavage. Anabelle could only smirk. At thirty, she still outshone most women a decade younger, and she reveled in the attention. With legs palm tree tall and skin as smooth as her sheer silk outfit, Anabelle was a vision to behold. With her ensemble comprised of well placed scarves overlapping and tied in a bow across her lower, otherwise bare back, the woman was a veritable gift wrapped goddess of beauty; and more than one man and woman alike contemplated if a well placed pull upon her bow would unravel her completely.

Ana overlooked the marina before her and smiled, the salty air refreshing to the woman. Her eyes overlooked her life’s crowning achievement, “The Lady in Waiting” sitting tied to port and she sighed a sweet sigh filled with a sense of accomplished pride as her fingers gently played with a necklace of a pearl and opal heart on a thin chain of rubies. Her lush crimson lips parted into a wider smile. In two days, she would set sail for her first voyage all the way to Portua in Pardinal. A call from inside broke Ana’s moment of peace, and she turned to return to work. It was then that she felt the first evening breeze dance across her delicate skin and she shivered, turning to look out over the sea, her eye raising a quizzical brow to the ocean, before turning away and disappearing amongst the costumed patrons once more.

It is here, in the Market Ward, amidst the countless shops and vendors, street games, food, drink, and song and dance that your story begins. For it is here where a celebration to the Goddess of fortune shall send the fate of seven, upon a path that would touch the lives of thousands.

(Welcome to Tide’s of War. Hopefully the novella of an introduction helps foreshadow and shed light on things to come and some characteristics of your Guild Leader etc. How you introduce your character is up to you, just please end it with being somewhere in the Market quarter, so my update may affect you all.

Feel free to detail and give life to merchants, entertainers, vendors, minor npcs etc, my only rule is it can’t be anything that affects numbers. Ie. No assumptions of procuring items, or winning gold, nothing that requires a skill attack or save role etc, for those please pm or q/a intentions to me so I can co-ordinate with your post.
My Next Update is scheduled for next Tuesday or Wednesday)

Cameron Grey
City State of Bayris: Bazaar
Mid to Late Afternoon
As this was not Cameron's first year in Bayris this was not his first time attending the Carnival of Masks, it was however his first time attending the Carnival with a purpose other than looking for suckers willing to lose money to him. This year he was attending the festivities as an official member of the Crimson Blades, and as such felt at least slightly obligated to be on better behavior than he had previous years.

These affairs were always a bittersweet time for Cameron, money was always changing hands, and more times than not it was leaving his hands. For this very reason he had chosen to leave the majority of his currents funds in his room, as well as most of his other possessions. This evening he was wearing his finest clothes, complete with jewelry and signet ring, his trusty Gloves, just in case there was need for his movements to be that much more fluid, and at his hip he wore his rapier, proudly displayed for all to see. He also had his daggers on his person, hidden as usual, and a small handful of gold coins (150g maybe) jingling in his belt pouches.

As the hours passed Cameron kept himself busy by moving through the endless crowds of locals and tourists alike, he carried himself with a grace and air of pride that seemed to match his finery, though only those who knew him would ever know the truth that he was more or less dirt poor at this point. All the while he made a conscious effort to behave himself, fighting his usual urges to slip things out of the pockets of those around him. Last time he had been caught he had been warned, or perhaps threatened would be a better word actually, not to let it happen again.

As the various merchants and peddlers hawked their goods he would look over the items displayed, feigning interest in an item or two every once in a while, then pretending someone had called his name from somewhere within the crowds and walk away from the stands, empty handed and still holding onto the money he had been carrying all day.

As the sun began to sink lower in the sky and dusk set in Cameron made his way to the center of the Market where a group of bards, acrobats, and various other performers had set up little shows, doing whatever it was they did best for tips thrown at their feet. Cameron found a place against the side of a shop and leaned against the wall watching the various performers, his fingers tracing along the intricate decoration of his clothing and rapier out of habit, something he did to keep his hands busy and out of trouble.

((Biggest reason I've chosen to actually behave rather than pick pockets is because we were asked to avoid anything that would require rolls to be made, that and getting caught would probably not be the best way to start the game off. Otherwise he'd probably have snatched coins from every 6th person or so..))

Rajikesh
City State of Bayris: Old Cove
Late Morning
The crowd cheered as a man stepped into the fighting circle. He was strong, by human standards and wielded a wicked looking dagger in one hand and a well-made whip in the other. The man had won numerous bouts over the past week in the shady arenas of the not-quite-lagal fighting circuit. Today was to be his next.

For a moment the whole attention was on the man as he shouted, raising and flexing his arms to show his strength. Adrenalin flowed through his veins just as confidence flowed through his head. Then his opponent stepped forward...

The man was almost seven feet tall and well built himself. He did not show the bulging biceps of the whip wielder, but was lither and agile despite his size. He stepped into the circle amidst a series of loud cheers and yells. Bets were laid and the ring master stepped in introducing the two opponents.

"Here we have Markus, a champion of the ring this week." The man said, pointing to the whip wielder. "And across from him stands Rajikesh, a man well known in our ranks for his refusal to use weapons or armor!" Cheers rose once again. "Final bets are called! Ready.... Fight!"

For a moment they circled, gauging each other, then the movement began. In a flash the large man was up close and personal, taking a glancing blow from the whip across his arm as he rushed in and landed a solid blow to the chest of Markus. The whip wielder was tough, however, and would not let a single blow fell him. With a spin he fell into a crouch, slashing across with his dagger. Rajikesh attempted to dodge to the side but was a split second too slow, earning a large slash across his left thigh. For a few seconds the opponents traded blows, fists and feet against leather and steel. It didn't take long for Markus to realize he was out matched. In a desperate move he lashed out with his whip, wraping it deftly around Rajikesh's large leg. A single, powerful yank sent the giskalo tumbling to the floor. The large man was much more numble than he seemed however. He placed both hands on the floor as he fell, swinging his legs with the momentum and sweeping the legs of the whip-wielder out from under him, sending Markus sprawling. With a snarl Rajikesh pounced, pummeling the face of his opponent in a series of blindingly fast strikes. Somehow Markus found the will to struggle. So strong was that will that he stabbed his dagger deep into the side of Rajikesh, leaving it embedded in his ribs. Momentarily weakend by pain the giskalo was thrown to the side. A quick recovery, more reflex than anything, put the big man on his feet once again, though pain still blurred his vision. He pulled the dagger from his side and tried to focus as his opponent regained his feet. Markus, thinking he had the advantage, tried once again to trip Rajikesh, but managed only to wrap himself up in his own whip. That moment of incompetence was his end. In a blur of movement, snarls and thunderous blows markus was left bleeding on the wooden deck, Rajikesh standing over him. Though he was bleeding quite profusely himself the adrenaline flowing through his veins kept him moving. He accepted the cheers of the crowd and the winner's purse stoically and quietly made his way back to the guild hall to recover. A splash was heard as they dropped the loser into the bay through a trap door in the floor of the piered structure.

City State of Bayris: Bazaar
Mid-Afternoon
Feeling much better after having the healing hands of the Tock repair his bleeding body, the celebration in the market called to him. He wandered the crowd for quite a while, searching for a particular set of items. Though not very adept at bargaining, seeing as his people had no use for it amongst themselves, he still managed to haggle out a decent price from a leather merchant for a pair of enchanted boots. As much as he argued however, he would have to stop by and pick them up after the Carnival. Apparently they didn't carry such boots in his size normally. His next purchase was a broad leather belt studded with 3 large opals, purchased from the same merchant. Perhaps it was a bulk discount that helped him get the deal he did. Lastly he picked up a small charm from a jewelry merchant. It was a chime made of pewter. He tied the leather thong that came with it around his ankle and continued on.

An hour later, after browsing several other interesting shops he made his way to a central plaza where it seemed a a group of mummers were performing. He paid particular attention to the acrobats. He analyzed them as they moved, noting how they remained balanced and thinking through the complex maneuvers in his mind, practicing them in his head for later use.

(As he is not particularly looking for other Blades members he would most likely not notice Cameron off to the side)

Kor and VeldriLac (wolf companion)
Forest outside of Bayris/ Bazaar
Late Afternoon- Early Evening
Kor steps to the edge the forest, looking upon the city Bayris, his eyes conflicted as he turns his head back to the forest inwhich he's spend most of his time in. Relucently leaving the cover of the forest canopy of green, he makes his way to the city, inwhich a celebration is being held. Stopping a few feet from the forest he turns around and sighs deeply,

"Silly wolf.." he said with affection towards the wolf promptly running towards him after being left behind. Kor smiles and runs his fingers through the wolf's fur as he quickly ties the leash around his greatest friend and together they make their way through the city.

Upon reaching the city, Kor's eyes roam the Bazaar as he looks around at the different people, but feeling much at peace with VeldriLac at his side. Staying on the edge of the massive group of people, his eyes continue to roam over the people, not really searching for anyone, but searching all the same.

Itching to leave the crowded Bazaar, Kor goes to turn and head back to the forest, but stops remembering he was called upon by Anabelle and couldn't simply leave once here. He kneels down next to VeldriLac and watches everyone while stroking the fur of his wolf companion - his way of keeping calm in any crowded place his adventures may take him.

((All he's really doing is waiting for when the adventure starts, Like Cameron he's not really looking for other members. ))

Ever watchful of his surroundings Cameron was quick to notice the arrival of a couple his guild mates. After all, it was always nice to have a general idea of where some extra muscle was in case he found himself in trouble. He made a mental note of who he had spotted thus far and their general expertise, liking to always know what assistance may be readily available to him. However, Cameron makes no attempts to interact with the others, not wanting to draw too much attention, as people usually got suspicious if a group gathered around here.

Damara slipped out of her bed in the barracks assigned to female members of the Crimson Blades at the first light of dawn, “Wake up Sleepy head,” she shook her sister. “Time is a wasting. It is the first day of the Festival of Shinara and I do not want to miss any of it”. Damara hopped out of bed in the guild barracks under the Wanton Harlot, a guild formed by the Lady Z, the owner of the Wanton Harlot and head of the Guild of Crimson Blades.

Combing her dark auburn hair, mussed by a night of sleep, Damara deftly she braided her long tresses into a single braid. In the soft glow of the single candle lamp she had lit it did not reflect much light off the golden highlights of her hair, however her golden “eagle” eyes did almost glow in the light. The mirror in the barracks reflected the regular features of a mostly human face with but a hint of elven blood in her heritage. She washed her face hands and dresses in the normal working clothes. It was time for her workout.

Regardless of her excitement about being here in Bayris at the starts of the Festival of Shinara, Damara has a set daily routine she had set since joining the Crimson Blades about a week ago. She and Ruahn we at first reluctant to join a guild, but the Lady Z, as she asked to be called, proved very persuasive declare she really wanted them to join her guild. Damara and Ruahn got the tour of the establishment. There was a lot more to be seen than the public areas of the Wanton Harlot. Underground were where the Crimson Blades were housed in barracks like rooms divided into male and female barracks, with crafting areas, a guild shop where most mundane items could be purchased for a fair price, as well as the barracks rooms and mess hall and weapons practice area. After much quiet consideration on their part, they decided to give it a try. A decision much affected by their nearly empty coin pouches. They had joined a short week before the Festival. As soon as her quick wash was over Damara headed for the training hall.

One in the training hall, Damara started out with stretches, working out any stiffness. She started out stretching her muscles and limbering up before running. Then she jogged around the hall then gradually speeding up her rhythm and lengthens her stride. Once she finished one lap at her top speed, she slowed down gradually. Moving from the impromptu track, she went over to the archery target area and picked up a bow a bit heavier than what she normally shot. Stilling her heart She breather normally inhaling holding they release the string before exhaling. She shot twenty short at a short distance and then twenty each, medium, and long. Damara pushes herself to finish every shot the same as the first, but not straining. Her short distance shots were well grouped, the medium less so and the long distance shot had only seven shots group and her lost ones started falling out of the grouping, two flying off and totally missing the target long range. Stretching out again, she loosens tight muscles before heading out to the pells for sword word. She selected a practice sword near to the weight and length of her long sword. She would not mistreat her long sword by using it to practice on the pells..

After finishing Damara returned to the female barracks gathered her one food outfit, she had brought with her. She went off to the female bathing room and luxuriated in a hot bath with a bar of fine soap available for washing. She chooses one scented with lavender. After a nice soak, she lathered herself up and scrub herself thoroughly, not wanting to smell of sweat out at the festival. Before the water got too cold, she stood up and used a bucket of hot clean water to rinse her hair and body off. She used her hands she scraped off the excess and steps out to the towel rack. Stopping to look in a full-length mirror it reveal her long limber body, smooth golden tan skin, a slender frame overlaid with smooth muscles, nothing bulky or blocky about her at all. She definitely was a female, a narrow enough waist, full breasted, not to wide hips, powerful thighs and shapely derriere.

Satisfied, she toweled herself off and dresses in her one good set of clothes. A white silk blouse with laced trimmed ruffles on collar, cuffs, and front of the blouse and covered with fine embroidery of elven design of vines and leaves in gold and greens. Instead of a vest, Damara had chosen tight corset gold brocade with more of the gold embroidered with gold thread. Tightening the laces of the corset narrowed her waist and lifted her breast. Her pants were tight dark green velvet breeches embroidered and slashed near the knees to reveal the underlining of the same gold brocade as her corset. The full-skirted coat was matching imperial green velvet slashed to give her movement and embroidered, with the green and gold vines.

One last look in the mirror the finished product of her morning labors, Damara turned and set off to the mess hall to get breakfast. Mess Hall was such an unsavory name for the kitchen and dining area but that was what it was called here. She knew he sister would be there by now after saying her prayers and refreshing her spells for the day. Ruahn had combined her fighting talents with service to the God they both worshiped. Damara had taken on the path of the scout and infiltrator. While she hope for some jam tarts or honey buns she would not care to much if there were none. Damara knew there were plenty of Vendors out at the fair selling all sorts of sweets, Those were her weakness. She jingled her belt pouch and it was rather light. She hoped Ruahn had more money than she did currently. They hadn’t been with the Crimson Blades long enough to be paid their wages yet. Festival would be the pits if they both were broke.

She spotted her sister as soon as she entered the Mess hall. “Hi ho, Ruahn. Are you ready to go when I am finished?” Ruahm and Damara were identical twins and that was very evident. To dark Auburn-haired, golden eyed, golden skinned young women, alike and two match daggers.

Bayris: 6:00 pm

As the merriment continued into the evening, the great city of Bayris erupted into a flood of flamboyancy. Bright coloured dresses and often gaudy accessories offset the setting sun, while more and more people lined the market streets. As the day passed into evening, identities became aliases, people became fantastic creatures portrayed by their intricate costumes. The poor became princesses, the pure mockeries of vile pirates or vagabonds, and the market guards too swelled in number as the scene turned more festive; but also potentially more dangerous.

Cameron and Rajikesh still stood idle observing the traubateurs as they reinacted scenes from the famous play "Cardista's Desire", their acting and mimicry a testement totheir trade. Kor and Veldrilac too sat on the outskirts of the hustle and bustle of the festivities, quietly observing the silly dressed up humans and their odd customs. Someone bumped into Kor and when the ranger turned around, he was met with the fleeting laughter of a man dressed up as a woman, massively disproportionate breasts and buttocks comebared to the chest he had squeezed into a corset. Bright red lipstick covered his mouth, and swirled into circles upon his strong angular, and now powder white cheeks. "Oh sorry you big strong woodsman you" he jeered in a forced high pitch femanine voice. "Do not sick your beast on my innocent fair self!" Raising the back of his hand to his brow in a fake sigh, he giggled before disappearing into the crowd.

Left momentarily flabbergasted by the display, the ranger barely even noticed the small hands pulling at the bottom of his shirt. Turning once more, he found himself looking into the bright blue eyes of a little human girl in a pretty pink dress, with short curly strawberry blonde hair. Her eyes widened as she looked upon Kor's lupine companion, who seemed uncomfortable with so many people around him.

"Mister mister!.. can i pet your doggy?"   

Kor watched the man-woman leave, confused at the human's tactic. Feeling the fabric of his shirt being pulled, he came upon a small child,

"mister, mister! Can I pet your doggie" she had asked him. Kor blinks in shock at the question. Looking upon VeldriLac, smiling gently the ranger lowers himself to a knee infront of the child,

"Oh, you probably could little one, if he were infact a doggie, VeldriLac is a wolf." he said kindly.

Bayris: 6:15pm

Kor politely informed the curious girl that his companion was not a dog, but a much more noble breed of wolf. 

"Woof" the girl said happily reaching towards the wolf.  Veldrlac moved away from the outreaching hand and closer towards Kor. 

"Woof Woof!" the child said trying desperately to touch the strange  creature before being picked up by a man wearing the fineries of nobility. Turning her head to her father she laughed before pointing at the wolf.

"Daddy daddy its a Woof! I want it"

The father shifted his daughter to one arm, before handing her off to a nearby manservant. "Ronald please watch over Alice while i finish up here would you?"

The older manservant, dressed in a fine black suit with red frilled undershirt and golden cufflinks nodded, before picking up young Alice.
"Of course master Reginald."

As the butler took Alice away, the nobleman identified as Reginald turned towards Kor and smiled. 

"It would seem my daughter has taken an interest in your furry friend there. Its her birthday soon, and i think a new pet would be just the ticket for her, and a trained wolf, now that would have all her classmates and their families so very envious." looking over the sylvari dressed of the lands, the man continued. "i dont suppose the intricate nature of social status means much to you, but let me speak in a language you surely understand. "I'm going to take that pup off your hands, and in return, you'll net yourself a cool 1,000 gold crowns and make a little girl very happy." to accentuate his claim he pulled forth from a seemingly flat pocket upon his shirt a bulging coin purse and jingled it before Kor.
"We have a deal?"

Kor looks at the girl and then her father. Standing his full height, his entire stance going from relaxed to battle ready. He takes a step in front of his beloved furry friend and places a hand on the hilt of his sword of his side, his words much more harsher towards the parent then the child, at the moment not caring if he starts a fight in the streets of the crowded bazaar,

"No sir" He said as the man first made his intentions clear. Kor growing frustrated with the man at not taking his answer, views the coin purse with little impressions,

"whether I wanted to sell this wolf to anyone, it certainly wouldn't be to you. As it stands, this wolf is not for sale to anyone. He's a beloved friend of mine, and he is no trouble at all. This 'pup' as you called him, will not be leaving with you. So I suggest you take your coin purse, your child and yourself, away from me as fast as your human legs can carry you."

The nobleman was taken aback by Kor's sudden change in disposition. "Now i assure you he would be taken care uf by the finest animal trainers money can buy." The man would have continued until Kor's very clear stance on the matter, accentuated by a hand upon the hilt of his sword silenced that line of conversation.

"Do you know who i am? Or what i can do? You would be wise to take your pointy eared forest dwelling self back to amongst the trees, before someone gets hurt; because my human feet arent moving from this space, unless you see fit to try and move me."

At Reginald's counter threat, he raised his right hand, adorned with rings and jewels much like many oppulant and often petulant members of nobility wore and snapped his fingers right in front of Kor.

"Think long and hard before you even think about brandishing a weapon in the middle of a market with guards all about. Bloody tree jumping savage.."

Ruahn was up and in her practice clothes in a thrice and away to the sallie for a workout with her blades. Her prayers were interwined in her sword katas and with each slash into the tightly bound bundles of reeds and straw. Once through working with Terassor's favored weapon, the longsword, she repeated the entire routine with a pair of Sylvari Half-blades. (Think of Legolas's short swords from LOTR.)

She got to the baths a bit after Damara and chose a bar of vanilla and sandalwood soap. Their facial features where almost exact and so were their eyes and hair, and both bore the same birthmark over ther hearts. A white star with four greater points and four lesser points. The same star was etched into the stone mounted on their signet rings. The only difference was their bodies, as a fighter Ruahn was the more muscular of the two.

Unlike her more flamboyant twin who favored the swashbuckler style of dress, Ruahn outfit for the day was a pair of superfine twill pants in gray, and deep turquoise shirt, to match the dark green and teal enbrodiery in the pants and a gray leather jerkin with matching embrodiery. She finally slid on the beautiful gray leather boots with inlays of teal and dark green. At her side she buckled her sword and at her back were crossed the two Sylvari Half-blades. A couple of daggers completed the outfit. Ruhan then clipped her wavy hair back at the nape of her neck. Lastly she took her haversack and slung it over her shoulder and neck, thus making it harder for someone to snatch it.

They exited the wine keg and headed upstairs to and out into the streets.

The scents in the air were intoxicating, all the different foods being prepared and hawked by booths about the market place.

"Let's find some bangers for breakfast, and then some cheesey bread," said Ruhan as she stepped out into the street beside Damara.

Following her nose brought Ruahn and Damara to another situation, ans they were stopped by an obvious noble trying to buy a wolf for a pet for his daughter and the animal in question was clearly a companion to the young Sylvari who looked as if her had just come from the forest. Then she recognized him he was a member of the Blades.

When the man gets threatening Ruhan's brows drop in the center and her eyes become half hooded. The noble, from his dress and attitude, had no concept of what the wolf was otherwise he would have never offered to by it.

She steps closer to hear and watch. Should things over balance into injustice, she would act.

(A small glimpse of Kor's "Speak his mind" Attitude)


Kor looked at the human and grins slightly,

"Do I know who you are? A human man without a life to worry about if you do not move yourself from my sights.. The Guards do not worry me. What does worry me is, that little girl has a father who doesnt knowwhen to leave things alone!" Kor's voice raising at every word spoken until it's at a near yell. Kor steps towards the man, VeldriLac (If okay) growls menacingly at the man trying to take him from Kor.

"If you wanted to have a pet for your daughter, Sir, I suggest you head elsewhere, because as I've stated rather clearly, VeldriLac is not for sale. I don't care if you have good animal trainers. He's not for sale! Tell your little one that I'm sorry, but I cannot allow her to have him. Good- day to you sir."