"I don't know about a dragon-man...but..." Hammer lifted his hood back just enough so the two could see his face, scaly and draconic as it was. He was afraid they would recoil in shock, so he quickly pulled the hood back down before sitting at the table, so as not to draw attention to himself.

He slowly at his stew and said, "I couldn't help overhearing, I'm sorry, you're looking for a scroll and some others? I know it's none of my business, but maybe I can help!"

The hooded man pulled off his hood and revealed his scaly skin. All Levanna could do was stare. When she realized that her mouth was open she quickly closed it. Then she quickly wrapped her arms around the man.
“Oh I found you.. Yes I’m looking for a scroll the elders of my people said that I must find it to save my people. I just wish I knew where it was and where the nature man was.” Levanna gives her sad look that anybody couldn’t resist (roll for charm).

No food, anywhere. Despite his failures Bravish was determined to find somewhere where he could find food without having to talk to anyone. For the past couple minutes he had been staking out random buildings and trying to see if people left them looking well fed. This wasn't all that easy to pick out.

While he did not make any progress finding food, he did become more knowledgable about how things worked in these small villages. First off, it was apparently not wise to stare into people's windows waiting for them to eat. He had also learned, quite quickly after his first lesson, that an old women who may look quite frail can generate quite a bit of force with a well placed swing of a broom.

As he rubbed the bruise on his head he continued his search. As a strong gust of wind blew across his face he recognized a familiar aroma. He paused and his nose twitched gathering in the scent. Quickly his eyes darted towards a rather large building. With almost inhuman speed he ran towards the door and kicked it open with a force that very nearly knocked it down. A man now lay unconscious on the floor in front of him however this did nothing to stall his progress. He ran to the counter, unknowingly stepping on the fallen man on his way, and slammed his fist on it.

"I would like some pork."

“That sounds like a pleasant idea, however I am not inclined to join someone in an town I do not know in an inn I have never visited before. Might you offer me your name good sir and I shall offer you mine, and maybe the name of this lovely village and the beautiful inn you wish to share a drink with me in?” a smile was upon his light colored lips as every word slid like silk from his tongue and past his lips like a calm stream through a broken damn. The Avariel stood facing the armored speaker. The speaker smiled though his hands did not leave their resting place.

“My name is Kirregan. I am the protector of this village.” Kirregan bowed though not low enough that he had to take his eyes off Verridndan. “The village you have stumbled upon is the village of Krichton, and its inn is the Trotting Horse. Now will you share that drink with me?”

(assuming Verridndan says yes…If he doesn’t I’ll correct.)

Kirregan lets his hands fall from the hilt and standing a calculated five feet from the Avariel leads the way to the inn. As the journey continues it becomes obnoxiously obvious that he refuses to touch the winged elf. Upon entering the tavern Kirregan selects a table a little away from everyone. Since it is still early afternoon the tavern has the party hanging around the fireplace, a man huddled at a table as far from the fireplace as he could get (Hammer) and a Halfling staring at the door.

“Two ales barkeep.” Kirregan speaks the first words he said since the tense introductions and sits a his selected table. After a while the serving girl brings the ales making sure to walk closer to Kirregan than Verridndan.

“Here you are. Are you running a tab again?” The serving wench asks staring at the winged elf’s wings.

“Of course.” Kirregan replies, “Sit stranger so that we may discuss the nature of your curse.” Kirregan offers a chair. As the evening advances and the tavern fills Verridndan
Is met mostly with suspicion until after most patrons have an ale or two in them, at which point he becomes an object of curiosity for everyone but the bartender. The attention only being stolen from the winged elf when a man standing at 6'8" kicks in the door. His hair was a dark brown and obviously hadn't been cut in several months, it was draped in front of his face and went down to his shoulders in the back, he also had a short but messy beard covering a fair portion of his lower face. His eyes were barely visible beneath his hair. His clothes were made of bear hide and he carried a shield made of bones and wood on his back alongside an ordinary quarterstaff. The door flies back nailing one of the patrons in the head making him spin and fall to the ground. Not that Bravish notices in his hunger induced state. It’s all his mental faculties can do to remind him of the proper etiquette when entering a food establishment and so instead of giving into the desire to just eat the first bi of food in his path Bravish strolls to the bar walking through anyone in his way.

"I would like some pork." Bravish announces slamming his fist into the counter. The barman just looks up from cleaning the glass he was working on.
“That’ll be one silver please.” The barman nods at the serving wench. “If you’ll have a seat it’ll be out in only a moment.” Upon a quick inspection of the room the only seat left was one by a hooded figure, a cleric as obvious from her holy symbol, and a Halfling.

Meanwhile in the graveyard he earth peeled back from its location. Hands sprouted like twisted plants and following them were heads and bodies. Twenty three graves undug themselves. Emerging from them where several bodies some still clinging to the flesh and muscle others not even bothering with that but instead simply raising the bones. Three of the bodies appeared stronger than the others and moved faster leading the undead army into town and towards warmth.

“Help! The dead have arisen! The town is under attack!“ A man burst into the tavern as Bravish received his meal. Kirregan immediately turned from his conversation and sprinted out the doors followed by two others.

Out side the tavern was a scene of chaos. Villagers raced before an undead force some tripping their neighbors and others simply too slow to out run the lead undead. Blood dripped from the abominations’ mouths and hands. The three town defender’s raced to meet the undead onslaught with little hope of defeating them all.

“That’ll be one silver please.” The barman nods at the serving wench. “If you’ll have a seat it’ll be out in only a moment.” Upon a quick inspection of the room the only seat left was one by a hooded figure, a cleric as obvious from her holy symbol, and a Halfling.
Bravish raised his eyebrow puzzled for a few moments. So the man wasn't going to feed him for free? It had been quite some time since he had last visited a tavern. "A silver what?" He began to ask when it came back to him. 'Civilized' people traded goods for small chunks of metal, and if he remembered correctly they often were very particular about the color of the metal as well. While working in the mines several months back a dwarf had insisted on giving him metal pieces in exchange for his labor. Despite having insisted that he had no need for a dwarve's scrap metal, the dwarf had gotten so worked up that he ended up accepting it anyways.

He fished through his pockets feeling around for the silver the barkeep asked for. He felt something hard and smooth and drew it from his pocket. To his dismay it was gold coin. He looked nervously towards the barkeep, hoping that he'd accept it.

As he approached the empty seat, meal in hand, he avoided looking at either the cleric or halfling. Eye contact is one of the leading causes of conversation. He wanted a nice, quiet meal and after all of the work he had went through to obtain it he wasn't going to let someone ruin it. He sat down, and prepared to bite into his meal.

“Help! The dead have arisen! The town is under attack!“ A man burst into the tavern as Bravish received his meal. Kirregan immediately turned from his conversation and sprinted out the doors followed by two others.
Bravish paused, emotionlessly for several seconds before his head drooped down pathetically. He gazed upon the delicious pork chop lying on his plate. His fork had only been planted halfway into it, and how softly it had entered, acutely displaying the tenderness of the meat. He let go of his fork and slowly stood up, those who could see his face saw an expression of pure loathing. He turned his gaze upwards directing his discontent at the gods themselves.

"IS IT TOO MUCH TO ASK FOR ONE SIMPLE MEAL!!!"

He slung his shield on to his back and drew his quarterstaff as he ran out through the door muttering curses that were much to innappropriate for a tavern setting.

“My name is Kirregan. I am the protector of this village.” Kirregan bowed though not low enough that he had to take his eyes off Verridndan. “The village you have stumbled upon is the village of Krichton, and its inn is the Trotting Horse. Now will you share that drink with me?”

Still smiling, his musical voice slipped from his lips again, “My name is Verridndan Kevaethadal, second son to Horthton Kevaethadal,” he bowed slightly in return of the man’s own bow but they seemed to be both warriors trained and neither took their eyes of the other.

Turning crisply, his feathered wings catching in a sudden breeze to flutter for but a moment before he brought them as close to his body as he could again. Pushing the tavern door open and entering into the dimly lit establishment, as Kirregan entered behind him and shouted out “Two ales barkeep,” as he selects a table that appears to be away from all the other tables even if they aren’t being occupied.

Green eyes watch as a bar wench scurries over and sets the tray of drinks onto the table, though her mannerism shows him that she is both afraid and in awe of his appearance. The fact that she is keeping close to Kirregan also shows that she expected him to protect her and that she had faith in that protection, which gave merit to him being the protector of the town and a warrior.

“Of course.” Kirregan replies, “Sit stranger so that we may discuss the nature of your curse.” Kirregan offers a chair.

Sitting across the table from him, eyes narrowing and brow furrowing at the mention of his curse, “My curse? What do you mean by my curse?” muscles tensed as he felt a flush of anger rise up from the pit of his stomach and with the emotional training that all Avariels receive as children he pushed it back down and allowed the appearance of calmness to show on his face.

CRASH… BAM… CRUNCH….

The attention only being stolen from the winged elf when a man standing at 6'8" kicks in the door. His hair was a dark brown and obviously hadn't been cut in several months, it was draped in front of his face and went down to his shoulders in the back, he also had a short but messy beard covering a fair portion of his lower face. His eyes were barely visible beneath his hair. His clothes were made of bear hide and he carried a shield made of bones and wood on his back alongside an ordinary quarterstaff. The door flies back nailing one of the patrons in the head making him spin and fall to the ground. Not that Bravish notices in his hunger induced state. It’s all his mental faculties can do to remind him of the proper etiquette when entering a food establishment and so instead of giving into the desire to just eat the first bi of food in his path Bravish strolls to the bar walking through anyone in his way.

"I would like some pork." Bravish announces slamming his fist into the counter. The barman just looks up from cleaning the glass he was working on.
“That’ll be one silver please.” The barman nods at the serving wench. “If you’ll have a seat it’ll be out in only a moment.” Upon a quick inspection of the room the only seat left was one by a hooded figure, a cleric as obvious from her holy symbol, and a Halfling.

Meanwhile in the graveyard he earth peeled back from its location. Hands sprouted like twisted plants and following them were heads and bodies. Twenty three graves undug themselves. Emerging from them where several bodies some still clinging to the flesh and muscle others not even bothering with that but instead simply raising the bones. Three of the bodies appeared stronger than the others and moved faster leading the undead army into town and towards warmth.

“Help! The dead have arisen! The town is under attack!“ A man burst into the tavern as Bravish received his meal. Kirregan immediately turned from his conversation and sprinted out the doors followed by two others.

Out side the tavern was a scene of chaos. Villagers raced before an undead force some tripping their neighbors and others simply too slow to out run the lead undead. Blood dripped from the abominations’ mouths and hands. The three town defender’s raced to meet the undead onslaught with little hope of defeating them all.

Having stood as soon as Kirregan departed, his hand resting on his rapier and his mind in a moment of conflict. Should he help this town that he had no stake in to help the people that had stared at him all day. Or should he flee and escape with his life to find an adventure of his choosing. That conflict was interrupted by the loud shouting of the man who had kicked in the door of the tavern only a while ago, "IS IT TOO MUCH TO ASK FOR ONE SIMPLE MEAL!!!" before he stalked from the tavern with his shield and quarterstaff ready to do battle it appeared. Sighing as his lips curled into a grin, he check himself over in a split second and assured himself he had all that he needed to go out and fight, and with that, his wings flicked backwards as he strode from the tavern and sought to either find the brute of a man or Kirregan. He would help whoever he found first.

…

"It seems that you are looking for someone. Am I right?” asked Marianna.

“Yes, I was sent here to help my people. By the way I’m Levanna Amaker from the woodlands. What’s your name and where are you from?” the words came tumbling out of the halfling’s mouth.

"My name is Marianna, from the city Durkon. Do you mind if I wait with you?" Marianna asked, though she did not wait for a response. "I, too, am waiting for someone… a bit silly to be looking for someone when you don't know what you're looking for."

“Sure.” Levanna said with a grin

"May I ask who you are looking for?"

“I’m looking for a nature man and a dragon man to help me find some sort of scroll.” Marianna’s ears perked up at the halfling’s mention of a scroll. “Oh I do hope that they know where it is, ‘cause I have no idea. It was so confusing when my mommy sent me though the portal to here.”

Marianna wanted to hear more, but was interrupted by another patron looking for a seat.

"Excuse me, are any of these seats taken?” asked the hooded man. “It looks like the table I was sitting at is full now."

“Oh, how rude!” exclaimed Levanna. “No, these seats aren’t taken. You may seat with us. This sweet young lady and I were just looking for some people. Maybe you have seen them? I’m looking for a dragon man and a nature man, and she’s just looking for someone and doesn’t know who.”

"I don't know about a dragon-man...but..." the hooded man lifted back his hood revealing his flesh to be covered in scales. The young priestess could not help the small gasp that escaped her lips. A kobold! While she had never been in one’s presence before, she had seen renderings of the draconic creatures. The beast pulled his hood back, obviously concerned about Marianna and Levanna’s reaction. Sitting down, he quietly went to eating his stew, trying hard not to draw attention to himself. Marianna suspected the creature was afraid and somewhat ashamed of it’s heritage. "I couldn't help overhearing, I’m sorry” he said softly. “You're looking for a scroll and some others? I know it's none of my business, but maybe I can help!"

With child-like abandon, Levanna embraced the kobold with joy. “Oh! I found you!” she exclaimed. “Yes! I’m looking for a scroll the elders of my people said that I must find it to save my people. I just wish I knew where it was and where the nature man was.” The sad, pathetic look on the halfling child’s face was hard to resist.

“I’m sure you’ll find this nature-man soon enough,” Marianna reassured the halfling. “Maer has already seen fit to light your path to the dragon-man, righ…” The young priestess was interrupted by a towering man taking a seat at their table.

The unkempt man, his long hair greasy and matted in places like the animal skins he wore, sat down quietly with his meal in hand. The conversation at the table went silent for a moment, as Marianna noticed the tall man avoided making any eye contact with her or anyone else at her table. Watching him with some interest, the young priestess watched as the man was just about to take his first bite of the meal…

When, suddenly, a man burst in from outside. “Help! The dead have arisen! The town is under attack!”

The nature-warrior -- Nature-man! Marianna was caught off guard by the thought – sat motionless for a moment, his head hung low, while other men rushed out of the tavern. Letting go of his fork, the nature-man stood slowly, anger and frustration painted on his face. Marianna thought the warrior would lift a war-cry to the heavens, but instead surprised her with his simple complaint.

"Is it too much to ask for one simple meal!?!" he bellowed. Then, slinging his shield across his back, he took up his staff and ran out to join the other men. Marianna wanted to call him back, to ask his name, to know if he was the one Levanna was searching for -- if he is the help I am searching for -- but the man’s cursing kept the holy priestess’ mouth shut.

Surely not him, m’Lady? she thought, still blushing at the stream of obscenities that had come out of the man’s foul mouth. Surely not! And, yet, Marianna could not shake the thought that it was indeed likely to be him. “These are desperate times indeed… the young woman thought out loud, her eyes still on the door where the man had just left.

As she did, Marianna noticed the elegant, winged creature get up and make it’s way for the door. Graceful and fair as an angel of light… she thought. That is more likely the help I am searching for.
Marianna turned her attention back to her company, looking to gauge what their response would be to the trouble outside. She, herself, was more than a bit frightened, for though she had read numerous books on the topic of the unholiness that would at times rise forth from the ground, like the kobold, she had never come face-to-face with any.

Turning to Levanna, “I think it best, child, if you stay here with me. Perhaps, we can prepare a place for when the wounded arrive… Yes! I think that would be best. Outside is no place for young lasses like ourselves. We would be better help serving in here.”

[OOC: I’m stopping here, though I imagine one of two things happening:

1) If Levanna agrees with Marianna, then Marianna will look to find the tavern-keeper, request that she, Levanna and the serving girl(s) begin to prepare space to lay the wounded. If the tavern-keeper cannot be found, Marianna will “instruct”/ assist the serving girl(s) to prepare space on her own.

2) If Levanna decides to go out and face the undead, Marianna will chase after her, looking to protect the “innocent child”.

Ion, if you would like us all to be out there, no big deal for me… just have the bar-keeper say something like “Hey! Taverns closed! You don’t have to go home… but you can’t stay here!” and off she’ll go… still looking to protect Levanna. ]

The undead horde shambled through own, heading from the graveyard toward the inn drawn by the warmth of the gathered victims. The townsfolk ran before them praying that somehow they would survive the night.

“Help! The dead have arisen! The town is under attack!“ A man burst into the tavern as Bravish received his meal. Kirregan immediately turned from his conversation and sprinted out the doors followed by two others.

"IS IT TOO MUCH TO ASK FOR ONE SIMPLE MEAL!!!"  Bravish the nature man bellowed his pain towards the gods, then he too turned to race toward he oncoming threat.

The scene that greeted him was one of death. The leading undead were three ghouls feeding on some unlucky villagers. Kirregan chose to face one of these. His blade whistled in the air as he charged this opponent slashing across its arm. The ghoul howled in pain and released its victim too late to save her life. The mage who followed Kirregan stopped and aiming at the next ghoul began muttering and waving his arms. As the chant came to a close he extended his arm and shot out a ray of frost striking the undead in the chest. The other fighter charged the remaining ghoul swinging his battleaxe but the ghoul alerted to the town defenders by the howls of his fellows dodged the clumsy swing easily. After dodging so easily the ghoul turned and sprang at the offending warrior. The fighter side steps to his right watching the ghoul spring past him. The ghoul engaged with Kirregan slashes with its claws which Kirregan blocks with his sword with ease. The third ghoul races toward the mage pain and hunger evident in its eyes. Behind the ghoul approaching with less speed are five zombies. One of the zombies catches up to a villager and swinging its arm like a club knocks the villager down he zombie stops to feed. Just behind those zombies are fifteen skeletons walking stiffly towards the inn.

Inside the inn Marianna looked about the inn for its proprietor. “I think it best, child, if you stay here with me. Perhaps, we can prepare a place for when the wounded arrive… Yes! I think that would be best. Outside is no place for young lasses like ourselves. We would be better help serving in here.” She makes the decision to ward the Halfling from the danger. Levanna just nods surprised that the undead would attack so far from the Forest of Death. With Levanna’s cooperation in remaining behind the forming lines of combat Marianna gives up her search for the innkeep and begins clearing tables directing Levanna to push them together. As she does so she watches the Avariel rise and prepare himself to join those fighting outside. The Avariel strode from the tavern sure of his ability to face a few undead. However it wasn’t a few undead that he was facing. The big hungry man was calmly choosing an opponent and Kirregan was locked in combat with a ghoul as were his two compatriots. Hammer Ulric chose to defend his new found friends and so stayed with in the inn moving tables as Marianna directed.

As a young boy Kilric hated their king. He was a tyrant, forcing all the members of his clan to work for little or no pay. When he reached he age to work the king took a particular dislike to him. Maybe it was due to his bad attitude towards him or the fact that his father was the true hair to the throne. Either way he was forced to work the hardest for nothing.

On his 20th birthday a fellow dwarf invited him to a ring of rebels who where planing to overthrow the king and so they plotted on how best to do it. He was chosen to lead a group of rebels to attack the main chamber. The thing was the ring had a double agent in it and Kilric was exiled with nothing more than basic equipment.

He searched the mountains for a town or some form of settlement but all he found was pestillance and death. This was until he stumbled across a town called Krichton and was hired as protecter.

Fast forward to the present, He was patroling the town when reports of the undead atacking the town reached him and he instantly went to the source of the distubance and this is where we find him now. Fighting for the town side by side with 2 of his friends and some civilians who decided to help outside of the Trotting Horse inn

Levanna was scared for the people outside, she could hear the fight outside as one of the monsters howl. She looked at her new friends.
“ Are you sure they’ll be okay?”
(Excepting reply can edit if different)
The cleric turned to her with reassuring eyes. “Everything is going to be alright.”
She turned and gave the little Halfling a hug and then said “Now go clear off the tables the wounded should be coming in shortly.”
Levanna did as she was told whistling a tune of the elves as she went. She had just finished clearing off the last table when the first of the wounded started coming in.
Levanna quickly helped him to a table and found a first aid kit behind the counter of the bar. She quickly worked on the wound as much as she could before calling over the cleric and moving on to help the other wounded that were coming in much quicker then Levanna would have expected.
This time there was a man with his leg missing Levanna knew that there was little she could do for the man but stop the bleeding she quickly found a shirt in her pack and started ripping it. She told the man to wrap the cloth around the stump that remained of his leg and to pull as hard as he could then to tie it off.
The smell of blood was getting strong now and Levanna’s stomach was starting to lurch. She motioned to Hammer and the cleric that she needed to get some air in the back of the inn where she figured the inn keeper had managed to escape.

"And it just had to be zombies," Bravish continues muttering, "couldn't be something edible like rogue deer, no that'd just be much to convenient."

Still muttering he begins running towards the zombie feeding on the villager. "And right outside of the tavern too, if only they were a few hundred metres farther back and I'd have had time to..." He is cut off as he drops to all fours. White fur sprouts out of his entire body and his jaw lengthens. He growls, displaying his now knifelike canines as he charges at full speed towards the zombie.