RP:Chaplains and Chestnuts and Ruiko's Warning

Summary: Rumiko runs into a fresh face in the Hanging Corpse. Chaplain Charlie is new in town, fresh in from Venturil, and Rumiko can tell he needs a few pointers.

Hanging Corpse Tavern

Charles sits by the fireplace, hunched over a pan of chestnuts. A briarwood pipe sits tucked in his mouth. At a glance, the fifty-something human is some sort of adventuring cleric, what by the mix of his martial and religious attire. Years ago, his hair was auburn, but the gray of years has taken over his beard, and a rugged chainmail coif covers his venerable head. One might doubt he's been here long. The chaplain's modest traveling pack sits beside him, and he hasn't even bothered to take off his cloak or his gloves. With a simple twig in hand, he prods the roasting nuts, nudging one, turning another, watching them brown. He inches his stool closer to the hearth. Apparently content with the chestnuts' progress, he sets the twig down, straightens his back and sets to puffing. No smoke comes. "Don't tell me," Charles gives a few more experimental puffs, "I've let it go out." He peers cross-eyed at his pipe. Sure enough, the embers are dead. Plucking it from his lips, the traveler snatches up his stick again and works at fishing a coal out of the fire.

Rumiko was far less emotional than she'd thought she would be after her meeting with Magik. In fact, she felt as if a weight had been lifted, though she still wasn't completely sure why said weight had been there in the first place. The nymph stood by the choices in her life that had led her up to this point, and it was the thought that emboldened her enough to veer from her path back to the castle, and a slight push of the tavern door brought the redhead into her old haunt. Still dressed in soft leathers, quiet steps carried her towards the bar first where she would order a wine, wave a hand to nix her request, before correcting it to a new sort of red that was more commonplace here in the city of the dead. As she waited, green eyes found the armored traveler trying to fish out a coal from the hearth. Normally she'd let people play at stupid, using a stick repeatedly in the flame was bound to burn him at some point. "Better off using the poker, no?"

Charles is still in the middle of fishing around when Rumi addresses him. "Hmm?" He double takes over his shoulder. "Oh, the stick? Hah," he chuckles, "look at me. I've been on the trail too long." On cue, the twig catches alight. Charlie startles and drops it, and the coals gobble it up in a flash. "I suppose no one will mind if I help myself to the, uhm," the cast-iron stand rattles as he plucks up the poker, "amenities." He weighs it in his hand. Truth be told, he's not quite as deft with the poker as he was with the twig, and it takes a little fumbling before he can scoot a nice, red ember out. "There we are." Charlie snatches it up between thumb and forefinger to stuff it in his pipe. Wiping the soot from his glove, he hangs the poker back up and turns to face Rumiko. A beat of silence passes while he puffs and sizes her up. Abruptly, he grins around the pipe stem. "Care for a chestnut?"

Rumiko had settled back against the counter, moving only once her beverage was delivered. Even then, it was only enough to pull the stem of bloodwine from the bar and into her hand. "That is why they are there." The set of cast-iron tools were hardly touched, though it wasn't often someone needed the fire for more than just atmosphere, anymore. There might have been a snicker as the twig caught fire, and as Charlie sized her up, she might well be doing the same. Slow steps carry her closer, and she'd take a seat across from the chaplain without invitation- other than a chestnut. "No, but thank you." Could she eat them? The castle had kitchens, but it wasn't as if she'd looked through the cabinets for actual food. "I do not recall seeing you here before." Not that that was much of a surprisem but he didn't know that.

Charles raises both brows. "Hmf. Suit yourself." The cleric unfastens his cloak, shrugs it off, and sets it folded atop his pack. "I'd be alarmed if you did," he scoots his stool, as much to give Rumiko a bit of room as to get himself a little farther from the fire, "I've never been here before." As he puffs, aromatic loops and whorls of smoke begin to circle his head. "Maybe I'm behind on news, but from what I could tell, I'm moving against the tide, coming *into* town." Charlie thinks back on his arrival as he studies the fire. "It seemed to me that there were more folks on the road *out* of Vailkrin." One of the chestnuts pops and jumps to the edge of the pan. Charlie reaches in and hastily flicks it back to the middle. "Forgive me if I'm leading into a sour topic but," leaning back, he wipes his fingers on the hem of his tabard, "I wonder if I've come at a bad time." Charlie's gaze clicks over to Rumiko. "You live here? In Vailkrin?" Traveling alone has clearly left the chaplain chatty and inquisitive. He's hungry for news and conversation, and he doesn't bother hiding it.

Rumiko offered the barest of nods as she brought her glass up to take a sip. It was bitter and tasted nothing like the red wine she was used to nor the blood it was named after. A wrinkle of her nose came just as Charlie spoke of people leaving the city and it could easily have been because of the topic over the drink. "That would be a fair assessment, of sorts." There were many pulling out, especially anyone tied to the Necromancer's Guild. "Though depending on what your business is, might not be a particularly bad time to be here." Right leg crossed over left in a fashion she couldn't normally do in the gowns she often wore, and she pushed back into her seat in an attempt to get comfortable. "I do. Used to a long time ago, and have moved back more recently." Eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly then, "Just what did bring you to town?"

Charles tuts tuts. Nodding along as Rumiko explains, he takes up the poker again, gives the chestnuts a few exploratory pokes. "Mind yourself," he mutters around the pipe stem, doing his best not to interrupt her as he speaks. The old crane arm groans as he gently swings the pan out from over the coals, reeking with steam and toasty aromas. Maybe she'll change her mind now! "There we are." Without any cooking to split his attention, Charlie can focus on more important things. "Oh you're fresh in, too? Not as fresh as me, no, I joke, of course. I'm here on," the chaplain screws his face up, fuzzing out his mustache, "a divine errand? A quest?" It sounds horribly dramatic when he puts it that way. Does the lady think so? Charlie clears his throat and hurries to elaborate, plucking the pipe from his mouth. "I'm *formerly* the chaplain of the Venturil watch," he explains, "not exactly retired. It's that I," how to put it, "felt the calling?" If he was trying to make sense, the old cleric's doing a terrible job. He tries to read Rumiko's expression and see if she thinks he's as addled as he sounds. "Have you ever felt you might be... needed somewhere?"

Rumiko watched the pan as it was removed from the fire, and she made sure to sit still long enough for it to get settled where it would. "Yes and no. I was raised here, and have been back for..." How long had it been? So much had happened, "Several months now." That was close enough. His antics- or was it jokes- earn him a lofted brow as she shifts her head to one side, causing a pointed ear to poke more thoroughly out of crimson-colored curls, "Venturil? That is quite a way." And what odd timing too. Her brother had just mentioned something about trouble over there. The thought gave her pause, and she offered the chaplain another once over. He didn't *look* like a kidnapper. The stem of her glass was settled on a nearby table as she pressed her fingertips together before her as she contemplated how best to answer. "I have." Honesty for now. "That is why I returned and offered my services to the king." There was a ghost of a smile there, "Pray tell, what sort of calling do you feel? I might can direct you to your destination."

Charles looks the part, for what it's worth. Gray priestly robes drape over his mail, and there's heat-tarnished censer hanging from his belt. Beige dust still clings to his boots. A heavy bronze-colored amulet hangs from his neck, embossed with the symbols of the Divine Three, and for armaments, the chaplain carries naught but a straight metal baton at his hip. Curious he had even bothered with the twig to begin with, unless of course he didn't want to be seen brandishing his weapon over the fire. A tavern is supposed to be a civilized place, isn't it? "You're in the king's service?" Impressive. Charlie stuffs the pipe back in his mouth and strokes his beard. He's never even met a king. "Direction! Now, that's a precious offer. The gods know I need it." He winks. "And I wish I knew." Puffing with animation now, he studies the rafters, as if some omen might present itself there. "You would think it'd take more than a hunch to drag me out of," he laughs, "a ragged old backwater and into the wide world, wouldn't you? Imagine someone like me, running away from home." Grinning, he looks down again to plucks a chestnut out of the pan and roll it around in his palm, watching it steam. "No, I'm still on the job. A priest like me, we're always up to the same old business. I'm just looking looking for a new flock." The pipe crackles. Charlie arches a dark brow, shooting Rumiko a pointed glance. "That's a rambling answer, for you. I'm here for lost sheep." In the valley of darkness, no less! What he expects to find in wartorn Vailkrin, the land of undead and perpetual gloom, is anyone's guess. "Know any?"

Rumiko was not the religious sort- or at least wasn't any more. A roll of her shoulders came then as she adjusted her position, "I am, yes. And seeking an audiance with him might well be what you need. He has been here far longer than, I. And if not him, he may know of where it would be best to find your... flock." Her legs uncross as she pushes up to sit on the edge of her seat, "What I can do for you now though, is warn you." Her expression took on a more serious look then, "Be careful in the streets. You may be safe enough here, but things are uncertain and chaotic in the necropolis. If you go looking in the wrong place for your people, you may end up joining them in a way you are not prepared for." Death, she'd meant. "But." She stood then, hands instinctivly moving to settle the skirting that was not on her legs, "I can let them know you seek audiance. It is about time I return anyway." She had been gone for too long, and she didn't want her watchers to worry. "I can send word for you here, if you will be around? If they can help or not."

Charles sees her stand, and he hastily bends over to knock his pipe out on the hearth. Popping the chestnut in his mouth, he stands too. "Hoo, haah." It could have stood to cool a little longer. He chokes the morsel down, and with it Rumi's warning. She'd just laid a lot in his lap. Chaos in the streets? Danger and untimely ends? A royal audience? "My! I can say it's been an eventful acquaintance. Providential, even." One last time, he wipes his gloves on his robes, smoothing them as he does. "I'll try take your warning to heart, and I should thank you! If you really think the *king* would have any business with a fool like me, well, I'll just have to take it on your judgement. I will be around. I think I'll be renting a room here. You've been very kind, letting a stranger talk your ear off like this," the priest extends a hand, "without even introducing himself. I'm Chaplain Charlie. Just Chaplain's fine. Or just Charlie." Charlie beams, eyes twinkling with good-natured mirth. "Or anything else you please."

Rumiko might have offered a chuckle there for his too-hot snack. "It is the least that I could offer." The warning, she meant. Especially after her most recent of outings in the mess. The offered hand was taken, and she was a little glad for his gloved hand if only to hide the coolness of her own. "I am Rumiko Ly-" A pause as she remembered the change in her identity, "Azakhaer. Rumiko Azakhaer. It was a pleasure to meet you, Charlie." The remainder of her beverage was left on the table as she bowed her head before heading towards the door. In truth, she had no idea if the castle needed aid from a chaplain, but it was nice to talk to new people from time to time and that gave her an excuse. "Good night." It was called back over her shoulder before she vanished into the night.

Charles shakes her hand and seals the introduction. "Rumiko Azakhaer." He commits the name to memory. "Delighted, very nice to have met. Gods watch over you." She leaving, and he sits again, just in time to offer a final wave in parting. Once she's out the door, the chaplain returns his attention to the fire. "Rumiko Azakhaer. Fancy that." He tries his luck with another chestnut. "Hoo. Hah."