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Sirat 06-07-05, 10:10 PM

“Hey Sorphor are you listening to me, this is the best part of the story.” Crimion asked through mead soaked lips. “Ya Ya I heard you” thinking to my self that if he ever tells this story again I was going to loose my supper. It’s always the same with Crimion, after some crazy adventure, go back home and relate the latest adventure a thousand times, to who ever will listen, always of how I was turned to stone by that damn medusa. The tavern tonight was filled with its usual rough crowd and want to be bad asses. The only women were of the working kind, willing to give you a private show if the money was right. The drake apparently had a reputation of garnering some good information on any thing to do with illicit activities. But it had a genuine feel of a cozy place were I could relax and every one always minded there own business. The evening was exceptionally warm, no matter how much I drank I kept sweating. My eyes were becoming heavily laden with the magic that only whiskey provides after prolonged indulgence. My thoughts were drifting back to the blissful remembrance of when we rescued the silver princess, when my eyes slowly awoke to pierce the fog of my past, at a sight that was unusual at the drake or anywhere for that matter. I could still hear Crimion rambling on about whatever, when I saw a figure pass before the mud and dust stained windows of the drake approaching the front doors, wondering if the apparition was going to enter. I was always good at paying attention to detail and what perked my interest, was when the figure walked inside the drake, it was clothed in a loose fitting black cape with the hood drawn over to block out the light of the tavern. The more I awoke from my whiskey haze, I realized that it was not the fact that that the person was wearing black and covering his face but that he was dressed in such warm clothes on such a hellishly warm summer night. He was probably not shielding the light of the tavern by his hood, but rather concealing his features against identification or recognition. I nudged Crimion with my elbow, “hey, take a look” and flicked my eyebrows in the stranger’s direction. “Hold on Sssslorrrplhor, almost finnnished” slurring his words. Although he did look in the direction of the stranger, absolutely no realization crossed his face at what I might be talking about.. Again there was something that was different about him. He carried a short bow across his back and 2 quivers of arrows, 1 at his hip and 1 on his back. Not an overly tall individual but of strong build and lithe movement. As the stranger approached the bar, he pushed aside an obviously drunk patron to the floor in order to create a vacancy so he could sit down. As the patron fell to the ground with an ungraciously loud thump, he was awoken from his alcohol induced incapacitation. The patron was loudly cursing the stranger and as he started to get up it seemed that he was readying a dagger or a shank of some sort from behind his back to confront the offender. Right at that moment the stranger’s movements shifted ever so slightly and what appeared to be a semi clawed hand was raised. Then he casually pointed a finger down at the drunk, wagging his finger, back and forth, warning him not to get up. What was odd was that the finger had a long curved black finger nail protruding from its tip When he sat down he took off his bow from his back, laid it down against the bar, and removed his cloak and placed it over his legs. I noticed long black hair spill down his back that was in a tight braid and tied close to his head. It looked that there might have been some dull ornaments of steel in his hair, maybe from a smithy. Then he ran his hand over his scalp to smooth his hair avoiding the pony tail. The bar keep came over and dropped a pint of foaming beer on the table with a platter full of meat. The new patron fingered the barkeep to come closer so as to whisper something in his ear. The bar keep look incredulous and furrowed his brow but at the prospect of more money that was laid on the table he moved in. A conversation ensued that was brief, with ultimately the barkeep scratching his chin and shaking his head. With that not much else happened for a while. So with the interlude I tried to get Crimion’s attention again and saw him face down snoring softly with his mug resting across his face. At this time I needed an excuse to get a closer look, so I got up and moved to the bar to get another whiskey. When I ordered, I ever so slightly glanced up to look at the mirror’s reflection behind the bar to get a better look and was shocked to notice that the stranger was a female. Her eyes were sunken with dark circles and her lips were painted black. I grabbed my drink and walked back without looking at her again. I didn’t get a good look but it seemed that her ponytail was intertwined with barbed wire and she was defiantly a female with a bosom like that. She finished up her food, slammed her ale and paid the barkeep. She put on her cloak and hood again just as she was when she walked in, reequipped herself and never turning around while doing so, her back always to the door. She flipped her hood over and looked as though she tied a sash over her face and pining it under the hood. She started walking to the front door and then I ultimately realized what had attracted my attention to her in the first place. It wasn’t that she was dressed so warm on this hot night, but she had a strange gait to her movements. They were smooth but awkward, like she had a bad back that caused her pain or injured knees. When she was just about to the door she stopped and tilted her head back apparently sniffing the air. She lowered her head and turned her gaze in my direction. I immediately averted my eyes and played that I was trying to revive my friend. A few moments passed and surely she had left. I herd the swinging doors open and close loudly, so I chanced a look. She was still standing there looking right at me with her hands on the doors as if she had just pushed them open, so that I would think she had walked out, and our eyes locked. Just a then a big ogre of a man walked in through the far side entrance of the tavern, yelling at the barkeep, “Hey Jonas, was that ***** Sirat just in here?” The bar keep apparently named Jonas, replied shakely, “Yeah she’s right there”, pointing to the front. The next thing that happened was creepy. As I looked back at her, she winked right at me, like she knew that I was watching her. Then a smile seemed to cross her face under her sash. I pried my eyes back to Crimion and noticed that he was still face deep in beer but his hand had moved ever so slightly to his sword with fingers rapping on the hilt. From Crimion I quickly glanced to the large man who now was carrying an even larger mace. When I looked back to the front, the doors where closed and she was gone. Just then the mace wielding man clumsily weaved through the busy tavern to the front door and out into the night after her. As I was processing what had just transpired, Crimion spoke up, “Sorphor, I noticed her too, did you see the stiletto come into her hand when that guy walked in” crimion stated rather clearly. Surprised that Crimion had his facilities after all the mead, all I could say was “Ya Ya I heard you.”