RP:Meeting Angel

Frostmaw Tavern

Slightly chilled, the tavern is still a far warmer location than the outdoors of Frostmaw. If the cold is too much for a visitor, they can take a seat near the tavern's center, a place dominated by a large firepit dug neatly into the earth. A fire is always burning within, fed by large logs and, strangely, scraps of leftovers flung in by passing patrons--to those in the know, this is to feed Aodhan, the fire wyrmling occupant of the pit and keeper of the flames. Aside from the stone and earth of the firepit, the rest of the flooring is of a dark wood, clearly a sturdy material to routinely bears the weight of many Frost Giants, their armor, and their frequent brawls. A similar wood, lighter in color, makes up the raftered ceiling with its steeped roof. Tightly packed stones create the lower half of the walls, the upper planks of wood built close together to keep out the cold. Booths, tables, armchairs, and stools of various sizes can be found throughout the tavern in no particular arrangement. Frost Giant lasses move skillfully among the crowds to serve ale and warm meals, occasionally stopping to regale a newcomer with the stories behind the many trophies hung upon the walls: sabercat fangs, mounted mammoth heads, aged weapons, dented shields, war banners, and a dragon skull hanging central from the ceiling, horns and jaws wrapped in blue chains. A rather bulky and well toned frost giant stands behind the bar. Upon his blinded left eye, a scar travels down and along his jaw. The large bartender, Drargon, simply watches the patrons, awaiting orders... or trouble, considering the massive war-axe resting beside him.

Hildegarde stepped into the tavern, talking to what appeared to be an elven scout as she walked, "Beorn should be done in the mess hall by now, put him on patrol. Make sure whoever is on latrine duty is actually cleaning it, not just… removing things," she said with a quick wave of her hand. The woman continued walking, her single eye settled upon a table for her to sit at; to finally sit down for the day and to rest for even just a moment. "I want another patrol sent out, one by foot and one by air, the Eyrie outpost will assist you as you are aware. I want full reports, too," she said with a little nod, as if to remind herself, "and once you have passed this all on to your companion, go take a rest. You have earned it, Iskander," she smiled. The elf seemed a little relieved at those words, unable to hide the smile that suddenly occupied their face, "Thank you, commander," he said respectfully, dipping his head. "Will that be all, Lady Hildegarde?" he inquired, receiving a nod, "Yes, I think we have covered all the duties that need attending to. I shall see you once you are well rested," she said in order to end their conversation kindly, allowing the elf to dart out the door. The knight sighed heavily as she dropped into the plush, over-sized chair - a chair made for a giant - and allowed her halberd to lean against it. Drargon was already making his way over to her.

Tyler bursts through the entrance of the tavern while Hildegarde is busy dishing out orders to the elven kin that occupy the large establishment. The human's teeth chattering loudly as he keeps his hands tucked beneath his arms on either side in a near frozen state. The frail man stumbles across the open floor, weaving through any who stand in his way before falling to his knees before the giant fire pit in the middle of the tavern, startling poor Aodhan. As pale as he is in natural light, Tyler seems to be as white as a fresh piece of paper, his lips a sickly purple as Caramel eyes rapidly flash behind spazzing eye lids. He had come to Frostmaw on a whim, in search of a new location for Skylei and himself to lay their heads at night after the couple depart Chartsend, looking for a new place to call home. Frostmaw, would definitely not be that place. Unknowing of the harsh climate of the region despite obvious warnings within the name, Tyler wasn't clothed properly for the land. Where most wore fur and heavy set clothing to fight the chill the human wore only a set of silk like black robes that were covered with quickly melting snow while his hands were bare and feet set in light leather boots. While attempting to warm himself up by the fire he would cast a glance toward Hildegarde as she finished up instructing her followers on their duties for the evening, a thought of ill will spilling across his mind as he finds he has likely come across yet another higher ranking official. Why did it seem every city he has come to visit he is destined to meet someone who cares only a bit too much for the local? No words are offered from his thawing tongue and instead he only offers a short, swift nod in her direction before returning to the warming lick of the flames.

Hildegarde cannot abide seeing a person in need and not assisting them somehow! The knight rose from her seat - leaving her halberd behind - and swiftly made her way to Tyler's side, removing her pale blue cloak from her shoulders easily and draping it over him. "Aodhan," she cooed to the young wyrm, "more," she beckoned. The wyrm made a sort of snuffling-growl before channelling what innate power he had into producing much more heat! "New to Frostmaw, stranger?" she asked with a friendly smile, "We see many here who do not expect the cold. Some do not make the climb, in fairness," she admitted feebly, "but you were fortunate. Are you hungry?"

Raphaline had decided she would make it up to Frostmaw after she had come back from her vacation in Rynvale. There were people she had not seen in awhile, and after the pause in Cenril, she had finally gotten out here. First stop was the tavern, and as she enters she spots to figures she recognizes. A small wave is offered to them both, but she heads to the bar first to order a drink while the two speak with one another.

Tyler is surprised by the quick reaction of the knight whom he had so quickly judged and though the cloak is much appreciated as shown by his slender fingers snagging hold of it like a child to their blanket he is suddenly caught up with the social anxiety he suffers so highly from, unable to speak properly to a stranger yet he is likely able to play off his impediment on the cold. "N-No thank you." He offers while managing to snag a nip at his tongue on accident allowing a small bit of blood to etch down the side of his cheek, which he cluelessy rubs away with the cloak that was just provided to him. The offer of food made the humans stomach turn, he wasn't much for eating to begin with and the thought of trying to force anything down while his body literally felt like convulsing while he lay down to die was less than appealing. He provides the wyrm a confused look, unsure of what the creature is or why it is taking up residence in a man made building though he is thankful for the warmth and tries to press any judgement out of his mind. A few moments of awkward silence are allowed to follow, even causing the human to miss Raphaline's entrance, before he turns to face Hildegarde once more locking eyes with her as his own dart away only to be drawn back in multiple times before he can find his voice; "I-I... I don't kn-know why the h-h-hell anyone would willingly c-c-come here after seeing it once, m-m-mm..." he pauses in frustration at his speech. "Much less live here." A forced smile is given as he feels it appropriate before adjusting himself to sit on crossed legs and tugging the cloak closer to his face, his body still shaking from the chill.

Hildegarde smiled as he rejected the food, "Perhaps some ale or water, my lord? It might do you the world of good," she thought. It was generally what most newcomers wanted upon arrival to the city! But she listens to him carefully, chortling at his remark, "Some quite like the cold," she replied, "and there are many things people enjoy about this city." The Silver glanced over to the bar, nodding towards Raphaline before gaining Drargon's attention, "Thicker blanket, please."

Raphaline after Hildegarde makes the request for the blanket, the bard turns to Drargon, "And warm food and ale for him too, on my tab." She scoops up her own mug of ale and circles around so Tyler can see her as well. "It's a bit to get used to up here, but, there are warmer aspects of Frostmaw, you just have to look for them." She looks up from Tyler to Hildegarde and grins.

Tyler resists the urge to vomit at the mention of ale, the man recently given up the poison after making an ass of himself one too many times. He is caught of guard by the sudden sight of Raphaline standing before him, caramel hues narrowing to examine the bards features, her entire appearance seemingly far different from that in the warmth of Chartsend. The discomfort rises as he finds himself stuck between two woman, both of whom he barely knows and yet they are both shoving offerings in his face. Wiping his mouth with the cloak once more he would decide to address the knight first, "Well, I-i-it's not for me, I can te... te..." Another sigh of frustration. "Tell. You. That. Much." He states with emphasis on each word. He then turns to Raphaline and shakes his head slightly at the offering of food. "I'll take a water, but nothing else, thanks." The stutter in his voice fading as he addresses the latter, his comfort with her having grown only slightly since their encounter with that odd Zette character a month or so ago in the Eel. The thought of the larger blanket does bring happy thoughts to the man and he is once again reminded of his task - to find a new home. It is with this that he comes to realize he really doesn't know how he got to Frostmaw, nor does he know the way back but he decides to address this issue a bit later, rather turning to Hildegarde once more and attempting to make some sort of connection with the woman. "S-s... So what do yo-you do here? Barkin' about to those gu-guys I figure you-you're some military brat or summin' yeah?" Way to go Tyler, half insults on the first try without even meaning it. Eh, it was progress.

Hildegarde chortled again, "Well, you needn't worry. We'll give you some supplies and an escort for the way down, my lord, so you needn't get lost or be stranded in the cold." The Silver offered a mouthed 'thank you' to Raphaline, focusing her attention on Tyler. It seemed his actions didn't really bother her, saliva, blood, it didn't much matter. The cloak was made from the silk of a Frost Worm: meaning it was essentially like chainmail, but soft on the skin and well insulated. The knight shook her head at the 'military brat' remark, "I am not, sir. I am the commander of the army and captain of the Queensguard here in Frostmaw," she answered, "but I was not raised in military service, as you would so imply." The dragon continued, "We'll find you a cloak for the way down, too. Just in case you ever decide to visit again," she japed.

Raphaline nods, agreeing with Hildegarde's idea of getting him a cloak. "Water won't be enough. With this cold weather you are going to burn up a lot of your energy, you need to eat." She turns to Drargon and nods to the food but not the ale, before turning back to the company she was keeping. "Hildegarde is quite the warrior, skilled with the halberd and any other weapons."

Tyler keeps his gaze locked with Hildegarde's, the human twisting his face into one of disgust as she refers to him as 'my lord' once again, the title causing him some irritation. As she goes into detail of her lengthy rank the man can't help but crack a smile, what the hell was the need for all that? But still, he finds a bit of guilt as she claims to not be bred into the service life, which in his eyes made her only a bit more bearable. Though, despite his anxiety the human finds to have a bit of fun with the lady before him muttering out to her, "Captain of the Queensguard, huh? So if I told you I'm actually an enemy of the state, here to tear down your fascist regime what is your directive? Execute me on site?" His stutter has seemed to fade and the chattering of the teeth cease as well, it looks as though he has begun to ease up a bit to his new surroundings. As he picks at the woman, he hopes she isn't as uptight at that Larket fellow that shoved a sword through his gut, he really didn't want to go through all that again. But honestly, how could he resist? He only hopes this oh great defender of the white city is capable of having a sense of humor about her. Turning to Raphaline he shakes his head at the offering of food, "No, really. I'm fine. Had a big meal just before coming up." He lies through his teeth, his mind rushing to try and remember Raphaline's name so that he could properly address her.

Hildegarde gave people titles out of habit, out of her own inability to accept her station and rank in this city. "Lady Raphaline, please," she said gently. Compliments made her uneasy. "I am but a mere knight," she said, as if to dash away any compliment. At Tyler's remarks, her fiery eyebrows raise and she finds herself smiling, "My 'directive' would be to ask you why you think this is a fascist regime!" she chortled. "Frostmaw opens her arms to all, but we defend our people to the very end. Until I see you raise a sword against my people or my Queen, you are no enemy of mine. I loathe killing," she muttered lastly, perhaps a little too honestly. Drargon approaches at last, handing the thick blanket to Hildegarde who then drapes it over Tyler. "If you insist," she said politely, "but I shan't let you scale the mountain without an escort. It is dangerous even when in the best of shapes."

Raphaline gives Hildegarde a tender smile, but says nothing about the 'Lady' title. Instead she turns to Tyler, now leaning against the fireplace, allowing the warmth to seep into the back of her legs. "Be nice to Hildegarde, she is more likely to treat you to food that to have you killed." A tiny smirk draws its way into the corner of her lips, "Take her advice though, scaling that cliff side, up or down is dangerous if you have no way to catch yourself."

Tyler chuckles as Hildegarde is so quick to defend Frostmaw's honor, and opening up herself to a pacifist approach in war. Luckily for him, he didn't need a sword. The damning thoughts in his mind are quickly pushed from the front as he turns to Hildegarde once more while he pulls the large blanket around him and props his chin onto his knuckles. "I'll take your escort, sure. But I think any form of governing is just asking for trouble. It's why I prefer Kelay to be honest, no police, no nonsense. Sure, there is plenty of murder and idiocy but nothing that an eye for an eye can't fix." He turns to Raphaline, thankful for Hildegardes mention of her name, allowing it to register in that one track mind of his. "Who said I was being mean to her, Miss Raph? Just asking a few questions about a foreign land is all. Besides, I think I like the formal lady. She's got a nice face and well mannered, what more could you ask for?" His face turns flushed as he finds it hard to face Hildegarde after making such a bold statement and his teeth are quick to find his tongue to prevent a remark of being walked over. It was odd really, the sly little bastard managing to go from being horrified of speaking to this duo to cracking jokes and making bold statements within only a few minutes time. Hell, he wasn't even insane anymore. He was just freakin' awkward.

Hildegarde smiled at Tyler, "Well, that is your opinion. I believe Satoshi is a fair ruler and I am happy to serve her and protect these people," she said with a certain nod. While Hildegarde seemed very much like the pacifist, she was a very capable killer. So much so, it shamed her at times. At Tyler's latter remark, the knight blushed deeply and rose to her feet. "I will bring you that water," she said flatly, moving to the bar to fetch it from Drargon. Hildegarde was not a woman who took such words well for more than one reason: how could a woman take words like 'nice face' well when it was riddled with scars, mottled flesh from a wicked burn and missing an eye? Kind words about her appearance often served to make the knight all the more self-conscious, all the more wary of her sacrifice to Frostmaw.

Raphaline listens to the exchange of words, and even more so, finds some amusement in the reactions of both at the compliment paid to the dragon. "Don't listen to her Tyler, she is a lovely woman, inside and out." The bard gives a deft nod, as if the point could not be argued. "So, why are you up here anyway, or traveling away from Chartsend?" This question directed to the male, because she had never seen him outside of it.

Tyler still hasn't brought himself to face Hildegarde after the remark as she makes her way to get some water for him, his concern in striking a nerve despite meaning his statement. As her back is turn he would allow himself to follow her movements before he is caught off guard by Raphaline's question. So much so that he would arch a brow at simply stare at her in confusion for a few seconds before shaking it off and staggering out a reply. "Oh, uhm, well, I... Heh, Odd story really, but I'm out looking for a place to call home. Sleeping in the Eel is really getting to be about all I can handle, not to mention... I freakin' hate fish..." The humans distaste with the sea side town was great, and he wanted nothing more than to leave, his only reason for staying so long being his bind to Skylei. "Still no luck on the job front, and I don't really want to rob old ladies anymore, so I've been traveling about trying to find a good build spot and make it my own. Mainly looking for something outside of city limits to avoid taxes and such, though it would seem the elf (Skylei) isn't willing to budge on the idea of moving into the Sage due to the dark elf occupation going on. I'm sure as hell not coming up here, I'd freeze to death. Not to mention I'm sure some sort of laws and other nonsense would restrict my building ordinance." The human sighs as the results of his search had so far been futile. He'd been in Hollow for roughly five or six months now, originally sleeping in the trees of the sage, then taking up residence in the Kelay Tavern for a month before making his way to Chartsend. Either way, he was sick of living like trash. He dreamed of being a respectable human, though that required funds, which he had considered earning in not so respectable ways. After tending to her question his eyes would fall back to Hildegarde as he studies her visage from a far. Why had her voice sounded so off key when she made her move away? Caramel hues scan the battle wounds and a smirk spills across the mans features. His gift granted him the ability to take on any form he wanted, adjusting himself to perfection if he saw fit. Yet rarely would he change his guise just for some social outing, he saw no shame in the marks. Except of course, that they were earned under a banner. Those were only good for burning.

Hildegarde returned with a tankard of water for the man, kneeling by his side to deliver it to him. She had caught bits of their conversation, "While you do not seem to like this place much, there are many opportunities. Should we win this war," she said, "we will need to rebuild. We have lost people," she said sadly, "and there is room for development in Frostmaw." The Silver shrugged her shoulder, "The cold isn't so bad, once you are clothed appropriately." The knight did like it here in Frostmaw, a cold that was pleasant enough for her species. But her scars were earned in service: in protection of the people, in protection of fallen friends and those she couldn't save - a thought that crippled her every day. She may have been a smiling and friendly face, but she carried a world of burdens and hurt.

Raphaline caught a glimpse of those burdens burning with the silver's eyes, but in this company she would not remark upon it. Instead she turns to Tyler, who has just explained his business with traveling. "Work? What kind of work would you be interested if you could choose? Something with travel? Something with a bit of adventure to it?" The bard holds her gaze steady upon the man, waiting for an answer. Depending on his answer, she might let him on something, or she might not do so.

Tyler listens to Hildegarde with intent and once again finds a perplexed look upon his face at the mention of the war, his ignorance of the on goings through Hollow catching up with him more everyday. "What war? Why would there be a war over a frozen land? Literally what benefit could come from running this place?" His words once again come more venomous than he intends and he finds himself wishing he could reach out and pull them back from the awkward air. But instead simply begins to shake his head; "Eh, either way I don't think I could benefit this place nor it for me. I love the cold, and I love the snow but not to this degree. Besides, twenty-four hours in this city and I'd surely be hung." He maintains his stare to Hildegarde, finding his eyes locking with her own, single eye. His focus shifting between each of his own as he seems to examine her, scanning for something, and after a moments time it's as if he found it - breaking the gaze as quickly as it came and filing a mental decision in his own mind. Raphaline's voice rings in his ears with that distinct sound, the sound of an offer and his curiosity is peaked as he casts her a weary stare. Adventure? Sounds illegal. But perhaps his mind is getting the best of him, and after all, when the hell did morals start coming before money? Pulling the cover and cloak from his shoulders he lays them across his lap and uses his hands to prop him up as he leans back to offer Raphaline his undivided attention. "Considering I haven't had a days work, in the sense of being paid for doing it since I washed up on this god forsaken land, I'm pretty open to hear anything you're willing to dish out, Miss Raph."

Hildegarde was tired of war, it was true and known amongst her friends, but she'd answer any and all questions on the matter. "This 'frozen land' is rich in culture, heritage, mineral, food and everything, sir," she answered softly, "and some people are willing to kill for it. It is my duty to stop them," she glanced to the floor for only a moment. "Again, your opinion," she said, flashing a champion smile, "but you will always be welcome here. We don't hang our criminals, either," she said with a nod. It was either a trial by combat, a few harsh words or community payback really. Hildegarde hated harsh punishment unless it was deserved. As Raphaline spoke, the knight took the opportunity to rub her eye and settle her chin in her hand. She needed to sleep at some point or at least return to her duties.

Raphaline knows that tired look, so while she gazes upon Hilde, she makes a nod towards the upstairs. "You should get some sleep Lady Silver." Resorting back to the nickname she had chosen for her a long time ago. As for Tyler, she lofts a brow at his response, "Yes, but you didn't answer my question. Are you much for traveling? Will it bother you to be on the move quite a lot?"

Tyler can't help but chuckle at the nickname; "Lady Silver? Freakin' 'ell. I don't think I'll be calling you that if I see you around again, ma'am." His attention always changing has become focused on Hildegarde once more. "Nah, you're much more of a... angel." A smirk manifests across his visage and it soon evolves into a full toothed grin as he declares the nickname official in his mind. "You're too kind to be anything else, though I think it's high time you quit worryin' about all this war crap and pass that long title down to someone else, preferred to be some idiot that doesn't have anything nice to say. That's what the battle bred lot are s'posed to do, yeah? Rule by fear and such? I don't think you're much one for that title, Angel and if I may, I think you've likely seen enough to last a life time or two. Hang up the sword and enjoy life while you've got it. Before the stress kills you." Once again he found himself asserting his distaste for any form of military in a rant toward Hildegarde, the reason being that he liked this one. She was the first female in Hollow that he felt he might actually be able to develop a bond with outside of Skylei, the only male being Vakko. He has no idea why he feels this way, maybe he was just going mental again, perhaps from the cold. But either way the fact remained, Hildegarde was better than this honor-schmonor bullcrap that any kingdom would stand for. He doubted he would ever persuade her away from her chosen path but that wouldn't stop him for trying. After all, it was her own fault, she did offer him a blanket. Finally, he takes a moment to not sip from, but chug down the water should had brought him earlier. Then placing the empty container on the floor beside him he turns back to Raphaline and makes a snide comment; "I said anything you'd throw out, which means traveling doesn't matter much. Besides, I have my ways of getting around." The humans caramel gaze offers a few light streaks of blue specks that fall across the glimmer of his whites, as a flawless replication of the man is slowly peeled from his own body and sat by his right, as he speaks so does the clone. "Literally the only useful thing I can do, so I don't know if I'll be much help." Then he blinks, and the clone is quick to slide back into his own skin and his eyes revert to the normal shade while the mana falls down his dried cheeks and onto the floor, vanishing.

Hildegarde seems a bit abashed at the nickname, honestly, she was probably the most bashful knight in the whole realm. "Ruling by fear is for those who do not have the courage to treat their men as equals," she said gently, "those who by fear are people desperate to cling to what power they have and they are no better than… than…" she couldn't think of something, so she merely waved her hand; blushing slightly as she thought she probably looked like such a fool. "But I shall bid you a good night, sir, with the hope to see you again. See to Drargon before you leave, he shall find you a good fitting cloak; a water canteen and some rations for the trip down, along with an escort." To Raphaline, she nods, "Good night, Lady Raphaline. I hope to see you again soon," she offered a polite bow to both once she rose to her feet, before collecting her halberd and making her way upstairs for a much needed nap.

Raphaline shoots Tyler a look, snide remarks were not respected in her eyes. "Got a mouth on you huh? Not the best way about going and gettin' yourself hired, especially when the pay is so good." She wasn't going to say how much, but the bard made a lot with just her music, imagine becoming a merchant and then a smuggler as well.

Tyler is saddened by Hildegarde departure and finds himself actually frowning as she makes her leave but his attention is quick to snap back to Raphaline to whose remark he offers a smile, "Maybe I'm not the one to hire then, because I hate to tell ya' miss Raph, but once I'm comfortable with ya, I tend to speak my mind, like it or not." He raises his hand and waves it in dismissal as she mentions the pay. "Don't try to lure me in with words, miss Raph. I don't plan on doing anything as a mere peon, so I'd rather not be treated as one. Be straight with me, or let me leave this forsaken wasteland in peace." The man lowers his head and gives the bard a longing stare, he wasn't sure where the attitude had managed to come from. Something about Raphaline both irked him and calmed him at the same time. He couldn't place his finger on it. She was, in reality, one of the few people in Hollow he could openly speak with and that he had yet to form an opinion on. He wasn't quite sure how she felt about him and so he selected to reserve judgement until hers was made obvious.

Raphaline raises a brow, "Not playing around the subject, just testing your patience is all Tyler, love." She grins now, all charming like as she settles in close to him so the words would remain between them. "How do you feel about being a part of a ship crew? You mentioned not liking fish so, I don't know how you feel about it." She would share names of who would be on the ship nor the ship either. "And I'm not just looking to hire, loyalty goes a lot further into keeping a job for yourself."

Tyler grows a bit weary of Raphaline's offer, the human taking note of her closing the distance between them as his heart begins to race, his anxiety climbing as he swallows the ever present lump in his throat before offering a single, swift nod. His voice is in a whisper, "As said, I hate fish, but, to be quite honest, I love money." Despite his nervousness he manages to turn his head and lock eyes with the bard, his own narrow as he calls out to her, "What exactly are you asking from me miss Raph?"

Raphaline shrugs casually, "To make some things look as they are not of course, unless you can do something else? I need an illusionist who can attach their illusions to charms, for a few crew members." And that was the info she would share for now, so she rises, leaving a few silver on the table. "If you are interested, leave not in Kelay, if not." Again, it was his choice whether to accept the offer or not.

Tyler grows frustrated that Raphaline is so quick to make her leave before he can speak to her more in detail about the job. Still, his fingers find the amulet wrapped around his neck and he reassures himself the description is something he could fill. The message was clear, Raph needed her little operation hidden from something or someone, most likely authorities and what luck, Tyler hated authority. Thus, as Raphaline makes her exit the human wastes no time to rise to his feet and approach the barkeep inquiring about his aid in escaping Frostmaw. Despite the man insisting Tyler stay out of the cold in the night, he beckons onward and is eventually on his way back to Kelay.