RP:Frostmaw Tavern;Nymh

Frostmaw Tavern

Nymh was in poor shape, but doing far the better. The druid had done good work, and he was able to move about, now. More importantly, he'd been able to retrieve his ocarina... and was now tending to his own wounds, when he had the energy for it. He felt it a good idea to stay away from the underdark and Sage for a while, after his most recent trial. He'd been caught up in the war in a way he'd prefer not too.... as an victimized bystander. Now, however, he'd attracted attentions with his presence, after the wood elves released him, and searched the verify the information he'd given about his character. It was an elven woman who'd come, with the elf boy he'd rescued in sage, throwing her arms around him and sobbing. He'd been caught off guard, sitting in his stool in shock, as the wood elfess cried. "You saved my boy! You brought him home, thank you, thank you!" She was beside herself, and the younger elf at her side was trying to gently extricate her from Nymh. "Mother, please. Don't make a scene here..." There were many folks looking on, from all around and on high. Nymh was blushing, unsure what to do with himself, though it was hard to tell with his ebon skin. "I did what I could, ma'dam. It's his own strength that allowed him to survive for so long. He was pinned under that tree for days, without food or water. He has a strong will." She'd pull back, nodding. "Couldn't keep him out of this damn war if I wanted to." Nymh would smile, and the mother would take her son, or rather, he'd take her, and turn her around to leave. Nymh was moved by the show of gratitude, something he'd never experienced... and from a wood elf, no less, even if they were half of his heritage. He'd turn back toward his cup, musing.

Alvina stretched as she entered the tavern; chilled to the bone from the Frostmaw weather. She would much have preferred to be in Kelay or even Rynvale when the Eyrie called. But here she was, clad in furs and bits of snow, which melted to the floor almost as soon as she sat in front of the hearth. The elfess was making her ‘subtle’ fuss when the bard took note and watched the small scene unravel with a faint smile. A mother’s love was boundless and knew no embarrassment, she thought, chuckling to herself as the woman was eventually shuffled out by her modest son. As if this scene was some invitation, Alvina stood and addressed the stranger with a kind smile. “Charity and assistance are hard pressed to come by these days. You must have done rather well for that woman.”

Nymh would look towards the source of those words, and lay eyes on Avina, with a wince. It was still hard to turn. "Her son would have died, needlessly." Well, that depended on how one viewed the war. Technically, he was a part of a house that helped drive the war on the drow side... but the only part he took in the war was in cleaning up the aftermath. "I found him while replanting the parts of Sage scorched by the elven war. I had some help in saving him, though I believe my associate prefers anonymity. Almost as unsavory a sort as a half drow." He looked fully drow, to all but other elves, but after his acceptance into the mouse of misfits, took more pride than shame in his heritage. He looked her over, with his single eye. "You're a pretty thing, but you don't seem anymore inclined towards Frostmaw's weather than I do. What brings you here?" The only reason he wasn't bundled up in furs was because he wasn't taking a step away from the heat of the hearth until he was leaving.

Alvina notices his wince with a frown, side stepping away from the bar and more in direct sight to ease his stiffness. “Are you injured? I’m a bit of healer; I might be able to help…” Mostly, the bard remained away from the war, only escorting Abram when he felt the need to rush out to the aid of those who had told him of the ongoing. And he was on the side of the elves. The drow had not been all together kind to Alvina, overall, but she didn’t hold it against this obviously kind hearted stranger who would do something good for elves while appearing drow. It was too common an occurrence to pass judgment on appearance alone. With his words, the bard was glad she had reserved immediate judgement. Blush painted her cheeks at his compliment, but still she stepped forward with the intent of examining him for injuries. “I’m akin to the Eyrie, we are at work on some things…though I do not believe it has any involvement in the war currently…I’m sure there is a desperate need for it…What hurts?” Her eyes light with understanding. This whole situation must just sting this man with a mix of outcast disregard.

Nymh smiled at her blush. "Oh, the Eyrie. Hildegarde is staunchly neutral in this war. I wouldn't think the Eyrie would take any part in it, besides relief efforts. That you can heal is splendid, if you'd aid me. I was healed by a druid, and my own healing music... and still have several bones fractured." He didn't mention what precisely had given him such extensive injuries. "Mostly my ribs, my pelvis. I still have a finger or two... well." He'd hold up his left hand, where his ring finger was bent the wrong way. "Fortunately, my own musical magic stymies the pain well enough, with a little alcohol to help it along. "A word of caution... stay far away from Sage for the time being. I'd thought to be replanting, and wound up in a skirmish I wanted no part of." He shook his head. "Still better than slavery."

Alvina nodded, the pink fading from her pale cheeks as she reached out to touch his distorted digits with her own flesh and blood, and metal. Her left arm was metallic as far as it was visible up to her shoulder. It was seamlessly grafted and moved the way her old arm had, though with less care for rain or colder temperatures. It was still an excellent conduit for her bardic magic. Pursing her lips together, the bard leans close to press a persistent low hum against his skin. The vibrations were slight, but potent in their reform. Her own fingers would move to assist his in straightening, and once they obliged her request, the humming ceased. “Anything is better than slavery,” the bard’s expression was shadowed but still forcing a smile as she dug some bandages from her satchel to wrap his hand to help the bones along as they mended. Magic or no, it was not a miracle. Still a process. “I thank you for your warning and will do my best to stay clear of the area.” Her smile fell back into genuine relaxation in a moment’s time. “I would be happy to assist you in replanting the trees…once the conflict resolves. The sage is too beautiful to let wither because of an angry war.” Emerald optics then shift as she reached out to lightly touch each side of his neck. “I apologize if this hurts in any way.” Instead of pressing her lips against his skin again, she closes her eyes and issues forth a throaty noise that vibrates the length of her arms and appear in full force into his frame. The rib, she might reach this way. The pelvis might be a bit beyond her skill…but for sure his neck would be remedied if he babied it for a while.

Nymh looked at the metalic appendage with wonder. "That is amazing..." What was perhaps more so, was the extent of her bardic healing abilities, without even the use of an instrument. He could not have accomplished what she did, without his ocarina. There was much he might learn from her. "I am... the singular practitioner of Bae'qeshel. The drow are incapable of musical magic." He felt no pain from her ministrations, thanks to his own previously administered remedies. "It made me valuable, as a slave... in spite of being a gray elf. It is the only reason I have survived to this day. I was born into slavery, and only months ago, obtained my freedom, and found a house that not only keeps no slaves, but accepts misfits, and cripples. Those like myself... the refuse of Drow society." He had to talk, while she had her lips pressed to his skin... in order to distract himself from just how comforting it was. "Thank you. It's taken a lot of healing to get this far. I'm fortunate to have even be able to regrow my teeth." So very much so. That had a dramatic impact on his ability to play. "My name is Nymh, of the Second House of Trist'oth. If I might be so bold... might I ask about your prosthetic arm? It is... amazing." It was perhaps the least dazzling thing about her, but it was a good topic for conversation, and he was genuinely curious.

Alvina finished her words into his neck and returned her hands, clasped together in mildly shy repose, despite her willingness to reach out and heal a stranger through touch without flinching. “I’m sort of an old hand at it.” She laughed a little, rubbing her fingers together idly. “I’m so grateful we live in a time where healers are becoming more and more adept and effective with their skills. What music can’t do, druids or sages can with salve or spell. It’s really the only blessing for the curses of the time.” Smiling, she rubs her metallic arm, a bit self conscious at the attention. “Years ago I was kidnapped and sold into slavery, and in the battle for my life, I lost this arm. I was no good to the slaver without all my functioning pieces so while I was passed out from the blood loss and exhaustion, I was granted a new one.” She wiggled the fingers of her left arm, still amazed at the transformation. “Some days, I would swear it really was my one, that I could feel the heat of the sun, or chill of the snow on its surface. The woman who constructed it did not know I was possessed by a slaver, and later became my teacher. She…taught me many valuable lessons about metal working and confidence.” Once his name is reveals, Alvina dips in a small bow, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Nymh. I have no house title, but I am Alvina, commonly known as the silver bard for…new reasons since this surgery.” Several strands of crimson came untucked as she talked and moved, her right digits met their escape, each time attempting to tuck them securely back behind her ears, and each time they would rebel and attempt another flight. “I was rescued from slavery, though I only knew it a brief time. Any time seems too long…freedom is worth any price. It sounds as if you’ve found a home and acceptance with your new freedom. That is worth a thousand aimless nights. Congratulations.” Her smile was earnest and warm. “What will you do now, since the Sage is unsafe?

Nymh gave a slight of a smile. "Many thousand." He was approaching forty years old, though that made him hardly leaving his teens by compare to humans. He'd lived a long life, of slavery. "I will still come and go, but with greater caution. I play for my matron. In the underdark, music is as rare as dragons of the deep. I am stealthy... it was laziness that allowed me to get caught unawares and pulled into such a situation as I did. It isn't a mistake I'll repeat." He was soon finished marveling at her arm, and instead watching those unruly locks of fiery red hair. He'd found that red hair seemed to be a good omen, for him. "So you are not only a bard, but work metal? The pleasure is all mine, to meet one so skillful, Alvina." That was something about bards, they often possessed many fold skills and talents. "I've been wondering... perhaps I should approach the queendom of Enchantment. Perhaps there, I may find those skilled in the ways of nature, to safeguard Sage, or help renew it. Blood and fire may make for fertile ground, but it is a sordid thing to put upon such a beautiful forest." Of course, he looked at it far differently than she might. The sun was too bright for Nymh, and he did his exploring and works at night time.

Alvina beamed and blushed, attention was only harmless when she was playing or healing. Otherwise, eyes burned small holes in her cheeks and left her feeling too frail a thing to stand or utter her own syllables. “Ignorance is a harsh teacher, but we learn those lessons well. I will not repeat the mistake that led to my capture either. Also, I have grown a bit stronger, and a bit stealthier, even if they are not my strong points.” By some flaunt of fancy, the bard found courage to wink at Nymh, as if they shared a secret. “We should play together sometime. Maybe when things settle down. I manage the theater in Rynvale, and they are very much in need of a good hearted show. Our talents are few and far between in a land where the sword is better represented.” Laughter trails her words in a light tune, trilling like a flute. “That why we bards must be skillful in many things.” The woman pauses in thought. “Enchantment might be just the place to find more information about nature. There may be a way for our magics to interconnect with druid abilities. Bardic music ranks along the lines of old kin, though it’s less impressive than dragon fire or ice bolts from the clear night sky.” The sun was the second love of Alvina’s life, so it would be true that she would not understand…but the night held its own magics. Flexible personalities tend to understand both the night and the day, and it seemed the pair was both of that mind set. “Will you come? If I write to your house, will you receive it?”

Nymh shook his head. "You'd be better off not attempting to send a letter to my House. They are different, but still drow. My extensive connections... by drow standards... among surface dwellers earns me some enmity and mistrust among my peers. However, I would be delighted to come play at your theater. I cannot boast ever having done such a thing, nor have I ever played with another. I'm only skilled in one instrument, but I am very, very skilled." He pulled forth that small, ebony ocarina, handling it with nimble fingers. "Music is a greater magic than many might believe. It captures the hearts of people, and it is those hearts that make our world move." If only a single sonata could end all strife. Nymh responded to that wink, with but a blink... he had only one eye to respond with, after all, and chuckled at his inadequacy for it.

Alvina immediately realized what she’d done and both shook her head and smiled for her thoughtlessness. “Then you can feel free to write to me.” She said, “At the Eyrie, at the theater, or through the Larket Post. I promise I’m one bard who is not hard to find.” When Nymh reveals his instrument, the woman gasps audibly. “I’ve never seen such a thing!” She cries, leaning closer as all shyness ebbs away at the sight of the splendor he holds. Her eyes scan it for function and finesse. All together, Alvina looks pleased with the results. “Music plucks the strings of life and love inside us all. Only the most skilled can use it for the betterment of all beings.” A smile settles softly on her lips, “You strike me as a very in tune musician. Promise to play that for me some day, please? Unfortunately, I must depart back to the Eyrie. I’m sure Miss Hilde has needs of me in the days to come.” Carefully, her eyes linger on his singular optic as a serious tone overtakes her, “Do not hesitate to send for me.” Another smile blooms with it, a lighter tone. “Until then, Master Nymh, rest well.”

Nymh noted her enthusiasm for his instrument with pride... after all, he'd made it himself, and a few others like it. Deep rock, and millipede hide.... "I would be honored to play for you, at your leisure. I'll be stuck here for at least a short time longer... I dare not try to get back into the underdark again, until I'm more refreshed." He'd taken a huge risk in rushing to retrieve his instrument... but it'd paid off. He felt much safer with it by his side. "I will remember, and I will find you sometime." It would likely be easiest to find her at the Eyrie. "Good luck in all your ventures, miss Avina. Fare well." It seemed she had to be leaving. More the pity... he enjoyed her conversation.