RP:The Birds

Summary: Thamalys and Sabrina have both some paperwork to deal with. Nothing too exciting, but for some old-looking parchments containing a rather dreadful spell. The Avian cannot make sense of the Drow characters embroidering the folios - but the Elfess as well as Valen, who decided to join the two at the Inn, succeed. As a result, the taproom is invaded by all manner of birds, which the dark side of the Immortal quickly reduces to fuming piles of ashes. While the Elfess finds his way out, in it goes the tall figure of Wisax, yet another Avian who immediately manages to anger both the Spellblade and the Vampire. Tension builds swiftly enough, until Valen saves the day once more: Thamalys ceases hostilities and walks away with a magnificent Red Kite, while the Immortal can add to his own collection of Avians the resourceful shapes of Wisax.

Larket: Red Ogre Inn

Thamalys took yet another sip of the straw-yellow liquid, which lazily swayed across the whole length of the chalice, in perfect silence. Sprawled on the lowest sofa in the whole of the opulent venue, one could have doubted the Avian would have been actually able to move - at all, the huge shape of his silver-clad wings apparently stuck in the leathery pillows. Right leg crossed over the left one, both wrapped tightly into some black leather, the Blue eventually set down the glass, inches away from a rather elegant decanter - seemed expensive stuff… - filled with the very same wine. He sighed, thoughtfully fingering the longest of his ivory white dreadlocks, presently distributed all over shoulders, chest and face, their pale colour oddly contrasting with the deep blue fabric of the loose shirt covering much of his upper body. A large, if very thin, book with a battered cover that once was probably of same shade of black, was perched on the edge of the low - yes, lower than the already exceedingly low sofa… - table, close enough to a - bare! - foot the Spellblade just decided to place on the table with a loud thud, almost as if he wanted to kick the tome away. His eyes narrowing, he kept staring intently to a stylish collection of characters, carved in silver, clearly standing out from the otherwise rather dull cover of the above mentioned book - elven, maybe? No, the Spellblade would have known how to deal with that…

Sabrina pushes in the door after paying her fee and makes her way to the counter. Her voice is softer when dealing with the public, unfortunately the rough exterior was something adopted in an effort to appear authoritative when it was required for people to listen. She was in good health, today. None would have known this would be the last time they saw her face in a lovely unmarred light. She gives the keep a signature smile and takes the bottle to the low sofa, but alas, someone has already taken up her favourite spot. She makes her way to Thamalys and clears her throat. “Mind if I sit?” He didn’t seem to mind elvish, and she often used it any time she had the chance. Her hair was tied high, the lengthy pony is laced with intricate elvish braid and sitting high on her head. She had gotten lazy in these days since Ara came to rest and she had to put up with the makeshift barracks at camp. But, every moment she spent there was at work and she was advised on several occasions to take some downtime. Here seemed as good a place as any, but in her hand was a stack of unorganised papers; downtime was a good excuse to handle the bookkeeping and stay out of sight at the triage.

Thamalys was absolutely lost into a knotty mass of random thoughts, his eyes transfixed on the decanter, so that the brisk question resulted in him sharply raising his head, only to witness the Elfess already way too close to proffer anything else than a positive rejoinder. “Oh… sure, sure…” he hastened to answer, possibly a bit taken aback by the sight of none other than the Guild Leader - was it a hint of shame that faint blueish hue on his face? And yet, she herself had a whole bottle in her hands - the decanter had a chance to not look as too much, after all. “I… I was just… enjoying the excellent stashes of the taproom, I guess. By the Wind, what is it that you have with you today? Seems like an awful lot of paperwork…” he went on, pointing his bony finger toward the unmoving shapes of the pile of paper in the hands of the Elfess.

Sabrina tilts the paperwork wot better view as if she doesn’t realise how much it really is. Somewhere in the middle an avalanche begins, three sheets, several sheets, then a cascade of written works splay all around her place as she stands there trying not to exude the impatience growing in her. She takes a deep breath and placed the mere handful of leftovers on the cushion to the low couch, the bottle on the unfathomably low table, and drops to her knees to pick up the scatter. She mutters something about there not being enough excellent stashes realm-wide to conjure the patience for built-up paperwork.

Thamalys sighed - he knew all too well the feeling of having things just desperately trying to escape his own hands. “Here, let me…” he uttered, trying - if not to leap on his feet - to adopt a slightly more decent, i.e. less sprawled stance, dragging himself up against those too soft pillows. Within some seconds only, the huge features of the Avian were presently intent to collect orders, lists, notes and… receipts. “5000 pieces of gold?” He asked not without some surprise, a particularly well-looking piece of parchment holding in his left hand, elegantly embroidered with long, curvy letters - yet another display of Elvish. “ 5000 pieces of gold for… vanilla scented candles? Delivered to the House for the Guild members personal use… what it this?” I thought our finances were not in a shape so superb to allow us to buy a whole lot of smelly wax… and, I never saw any those candles anywhere in the baths or elsewhere indeed… anyway!” He moved on, some more bill collecting and neatly piling up on the table, miraculously avoiding to knock over any of the bottles, decanters and more broadly speaking glasses evenly distributed on the wooden board. He would have waited for the Elfess to finish her papery rescuing mission, before - possibly following the mumbling of the Elfess, going ahead with yet another liquid proposal. “Oh, I see you have opted of your own favourite… and yet, you will have to have a taste of this nectar as well - I insist.” - those words accompanied by a sharp gesture of his right hand, now high above his head, fingers snapping, a loud crack managing to catch the attention of the waiter. Bobosh, that was his name, the tiniest Halfling imaginable, dressed so nicely he could have easily squeezed unnoticed into a Royal Wedding. While waiting foursome more chalices - one for each shade of the wine - he would have casually added, “I have some paper to deal with as well, today. That, to be precise” he noted while plainly nodding toward the tiny booklet. A thick ray of daylight - noon it was after all - filtered amongst cloud first and glass eventually, finding his way through the window nearby and opting for lighting up the cover of that very book. “ Any chance you can give me an hand with that - after we are done with the paperwork, that is… “ he concluded, hastily waving both hands.

Sabrina is appreciative of his help and offers a thankful smile as he helps recover the disarray. She peers over at the receipt he is taken by and nods. She shrugs. “I like vanilla… if we are to have light I do not see the opportunity to be missed that it is fragrant as well.” She also assures him. “I have over six hundred years of accumulated wealth… five thousand gold does not make a dent.” The Guild was ran off her personal finances since she did not take payments herself. Wages, supplies, luxuries, all were managed from several sources of her own stores. Once the papers are gathered she walks them over on her knees and adds to the unsavoury pile. “I might need it, though I make the purchase only for the respect of the establishment. I am afraid it has no real effect on me in socially accepted quantities.” Her eyes travel to the aforementioned book and she nods. “Of course, I like finances to be in order, for all our members… it leads to less bailouts later when they become consumed by unmanaged affairs.” His though, they looked mostly in order in comparison to the thick stack she just brought in. She takes a place on the floor, crisscrossed in a seated position while she begins sorting sheet after sheet and appropriating them to different piles according to region. “Chartsend needs to appoint a leader, it is our most costly realm.”

Thamalys frowned upon the notice of the boundless wealth the Guild was based upon. He did not know, but he would have remembered that from now on. He watched the Elfess commencing the daunting task, refusing to give it a stab himself - not before Bobosh the Stylish made is triumphant return with an additional glass, promptly filled and positioned well within the reach of the Raven Haired One. The Halfling had some of what was probably some sort of snack as well, but that, that the Blue shove off. “Chartsend?” he inquired, the name barely ringing a bell. “Isn’t that… isn’t that so very far away from here? Are they without a leader indeed? Why, are they in need of a King of a Queen? Those tend to be quite scarce these days… however. This Avian has wings, if you think some message has to be brought, or some errand has to be dealt with in there… do just ask and it will be done…” he pondered, eventually joining the Leader, not on the floor, though - taking a perilous sit on the very edge of the table instead, like a massive bird perching from a shelf.Yet another piece of paper evidently dealing with the Chartsendians came into his possess. “Aaaaand, an other one” he tiredly went on, neatly layering it on top of the - already quite consistent - pile.

Sabrina thanks Bobosh with an informal bow of head not to be confused with a nod. She extends thin gloved fingers around the stemmed wine glass towards the base of the stem between thumb, and forefinger, letting the remaining two digits rest on the base naturally. She gives it a swirl but does not immediately take a drink since she was accustomed to a certain amount of rest between the pouring and consuming of it. The glass is perched high so as not to risk tipping it as she continues on with the papers, coming across some newer parchment that was purchased at a higher cost but colour coded the works so they could be kept better track of. The lavender sheets smelled of the wild berries they were stained with, additionally the greener ones faintly hinted at grass. She nods slowly at his query, somewhat consumed otherwise with the dwindling stack before her. “Aye. But the region hasn’t seen a war in ages and they are quite out of the way for typical politics to affect surrounding areas… still, they need a treasurer.” Often times regions would donate a set fee to help offset unlimited resources. “The trip is really taking funds a chunk at a time.” Not that she was worried… it just seemed like a waste. “Do you think you could take the route from time to time? Honestly they only require the bare essentials… getting a paper cut in that town is rare.” So, at very least, the load was light.

Thamalys pledged his claimed to the journey, between a whole stack of Larketian receipts and elegant request for a reference letter - no less. “Absolutely, it will be a pleasure - any opportunity to feel some wind on my skin would be much welcomed, in fact…” and as to stress those words even further, he proceeded to probe the edges of his wings, to the tiniest of the extent unfolding them, just a twitch. On he went, sorting, reading, sighing, occasionally sipping some whole mouthful of the pale nectar nearby. Avian he was, he would have not flinched by a bit, the strong wine leaving him perfectly capable of dealing with the utterly boredom ahead - with the clearest of the minds. A short time after he managed to empty half of the decanter, the end was finally in sight, a sort of a grin surfacing on his tattooed face. As such, he would have shifted his weight - and his attention as well toward his own paperwork, grabbing the booklet and blatantly handling about half of it to the Elfess. “Please do not linger on the details…” he sort of implored the very moment he realized some rather odd-looking orders made their way into the half in the Leader’s hands. Those, and a particularly thick parchment, possibly leather, where long, elegant stripes of characters incomprehensible to many seemed to stand out from the whole of the lot.

Valen would make his way into the establishment, not wearing his Kree dress but rather his suit of ceremonial black armor that his parents had given him when he was still a prince oh so very long ago. Completely Black with strips of red here and there, it covered much of him. The Vampire's eyes would be like a shining Green Emerald this day, and as he looked around at the two that were already here, a smirk would be given to both. "What's this? A little paperwork to otherwise spice up such a boring day?" The voice was more refined, more masculine sounding, and really there was hardly any of that melodious tone. All male this one was. "And spirits!" Eyes would give off a faint smile, before he reached into a pouch and pulled out a nice bottle of unidentified liquid, though it certainly appeared to be a wine bottle. The way he nursed it though, one could only assume it had some type of blood inside of it. "Sabrina....Thamalys. It's good to see you but honestly, someone tell me, Just what in the name of HEll's perdition are the two of you doing?”

Sabrina took the papers with a shake of her head. The glass is emptied and set along the edge of uncovered longboard and she adjusts her position since her legs were creeping on that tingly feeling. She was versed in more languages written than she was spoken, so she hoped he realized that several centuries of travel, were also preluded by a few centuries of merchant travelers before she left her home. Not only was she well read, but happened to be so in many texts 1000 years old, or less. Still… she needed a sort-by; for financial purposes, hers were done per region but looking at the most inconsequential item (probably studying it a bit too long) she managed to glean a steady example of dates in the upper right corners of most sheets. “Linear, then?” This sort of organization would come eventually to her own works until the recordings were fitted properly. She tips her head backwards to view Valen in his upside-down suit. “Oh, Sweetie... I love the suit.” She shifts again to view him upright and pats the seat next to her. “A full moon’s worth of unglorified filing…” She considers for a moment that a secretary might have better fun with it. “Have a seat, dig in.”

Thamalys acknowledged the guess of the Elfess with a small nod, his gaze still solidly on the paperwork, his ears not exactly paying attention to the salutation of the Immortal near by. “Linear indeed - well, at least I tried to sort it like so. See, the thing with logs… wait, what?” he had to froze mid-sentence, not immediately realising the Raven Headed One was not - obviously - referring to the Spellblade’s suit. “Oh, Valen! It is good to see you too…” he begun, a surprised but definitely not unpleasant pout curving the thin grey lips of the Blue into something close enough to a smile. “Indeed, indeed, please do have a sit. You have chosen the best moment to join us - we are halfway through the receipts of my laundry, I believe… well. You need a glass? We have plenty!” he happily noted, widely gesturing with his right hand, still in possess of some solid amount of paper, toward the clutter of bottles and chalices nearby. “Wait, what’s in that bottle?” he asked out of mere curiosity, his head protruding from his otherwise rather bent stance, as if wanting to probe directly the liquid content, a deep full colour not so dissimilar from that of the battered parchment still lurking within the mighty pile of paperwork.

Valen would regard Sabrina with a raised eyebrow, and was about to say something when he figured it was neither the place nor the time, and would simply play secretary, if only just once, to get a feel for it. The red-head would then take another swig from the bottle, and reply "It's ceremonial, but still effective." And so, he would looked at whatever papers were on the table, feeling math and other such thing try to enter his head...all things he hated, and agitation was starting to show upon his visage. "Thank you for the compliment." Looking over at Thamalys, a thin smile would be given, one that was filled with good humor, but also it had to do with the agitation that was coursing through his very pores now. "Receipts...for your laundry...?" Green eyes would narrow at the question, and for once that look of agitation would vanish as he held up the bottle he was drinking from. "Oh this? Nothing much, I assure you. Just a mixture of Avian wine...and Naga blood." Another swig as he was now nearly half into the bottle. "Ever since...well....an event had happened," Here he would rub the mark on his neck "I find myself quite drawn to the taste, almost as much as Avians, Not you of course Tham...though your blood seems to me, would be very sweet...Shame we never got that chance." Once more he would look at these receipts and papers. "Now just what exactly, are we -doing- with these receipts..."

Sabrina holds out a sheet folded several times to fit the allotted size of the sister sheets. “Bad poetry?” She is laughing at him. After releasing said novelty she awaits his answer to the Drowic markings that didn’t even rhyme. Another glass is poured, and finished, almost like she was thirsty but that never really happened. “Mmm! You should keep the writs apart from the financial.” She suggests a separate pile and only now decides to finally open her bottle. Looking over her shoulder for Bobash she does not find him. “How do we get the little glasses?” Room is made for Valen and for a the moment it appears as though she is completely untested by his reference to the Naga. A second sheet of arguably worse poetry is pulled from the stack. “Its like putting the oddest of ingredients in a pot… um…” Her head rears back and she passes Thamlays’ sheet to Valen. “Does this almost look like a recipe to you?” Right… the Blue told her to pay -less- attention to the details, and like a train wreck it seemed all she could focus on.

Thamalys growled something, a low pitched, deep tone of a voice that never saw daylight, the mention of the Naga’s blood in that very bottle not exactly putting him at ease. The Spellblade knew very well that Valen had not to be counted within the wretched ranks of those sadistic inhabitants of Vailkrin the Blue loathed so much - and yet, a rare exception standing out from the rest of his own kin the Shadow Master was. Some things, an Avian would never understand. And yet, he limited himself to frown at the mention of his own blood. “Shame.” he flatly asserted, some think streaks of golden soiling the otherwise flawless solid blue eyes. Less than an instant, then the Blue would have solved the glassy impasse by letting go of any paper in his hand, bringing instead his two index fingers to his lips and producing the loudest whistle the inn ever witnessed. Bobash did hasten toward the sofa, and even the towering figures of Gumorn the Not-so-Gentle Giant took notice, a slow yet worrying movement of his massive feet indicating that better would have been to refrain from such a display ever after. Subsequently, the way-too-attentive Elfess went for sharing those queer documents with the Vampire, and the Avian found himself in need to clear his throat. “Erm… those, Yes. I found them covered in guano, in Frostmaw’s Aviary, some weeks ago. Well, they do not stink - that - much, do they? I could not make sense of the characters, but apparently Sabrina can. You as well?” he inquired, almost feeling on the verge of being defined illiterate amongst the noble ranks of those two, he himself being completely oblivious of his heritage - if curious about the actual content of the parchments.

Valen felt a smirk come across his own feautures, as he leaned closer towards Thamalys, eyes blazing with curiosity now. "Well then...if -you- think it is a shame, You know you can always just offer some up, just a taste even. But I doubt even -you-, dearest friend, would let one such as myself even dare to ask." The whistle though would cause his left eye to twitch, hands going to those sensitive Elven and Vampiric ears. "Guano. Really? Ugh that is rather not pleasant. Truly, I would have just burned the lot of them myself but they are -your- clothes after all Tham." If it was not evident by the voice with which he had been speaking, or the odd color of his eyes, Sabrina and Thamalys both might be able to sense that his Aura had also changed. The feel of this one, where Valen had been more reserved in what energies he gave off, now he seemed to simply flaunt it, as blonde roots could also be seen at the base of each hair strand on his head. The question of whether he could read drow would earn a playful scoff. "Are you asking me if I can read drow? Of course I can. Being a Prince, my brother and I were basically -mandated- to take classes on foreign languages. I am a bit rusty, but not so much that I can't read it. Let me see it." Another sip taken from his Naga Blood wine.

Sabrina hadn’t a clue if the ramblings meant anything but she did note “It’s old, and… I mean the penmanship is refined but the context is lost to me… like a recording of a child’s recital?” She drinks straight from the bottle before wiping her lips. “You know… iambic.” She strums a small beat on the table to reference a metrical line. The Healer likely gives Valen very little comfort when she states with a wide grin. “Guano is used in several salves in the plains.” Where she didn’t sense auras, she was also unequipped to pick up on mild social characteristics of change. She didn’t really know Valen enough to experience the full scope of his behavioral range either.

Thamalys took notice of the Elfess suggestion by muttering some consent. He refrained to enlighten the onlookers about the many marvellous uses of guano - somehow he sensed they would have gone less than unnoticed. Not unheeded indeed went instead the subtle - if rather plain in a way - mutation of the Vampire’s appearances. Enough for the Blue to tense a good portion of muscles and tendons, not exactly aware of what the Immortal could have had in store for them. Mostly in an attempt to steer the conversation away from anything related to blood offers, the Spellblade eventually resorted himself to ask. “Bad poetry or not, I would be keen to hear it, my friend - I paid some price for it, and despite anybody but me in the room seems to be perfectly proficient with Drow, I can assure you, such as skill is not easily found in Larket. Come now, let us have it, then…” he encouraged, Lazily reaching for his glass, not surprisingly empty, and throwing a very meaningful look to the tiny Halfling.

Valen would have actually found interest in that fact, and would make a note to stay away from salves in general now. "I appreciate the knowledge Lady Sabrina." With that, he would finish off the bottle of wine before pulling another from his pouch, uncork it, and pick up right where he left off. "Speaking of things....I will be needing to talk to you in private at some point Lady Sabrina. It's a matter of...semi-importance." Looking now to Thamalys, "I hope you didnt pay -too= much Thamalys. I would hate for you to suffer such embarrassment." and a raised brow given, he would turn and move to look at the Poem, reading in perhaps the best he could aloud, the Drowish rhymes. It sounded beautiful, kind of? The vampire had been absolutely right, that he was a bit rusty in the language, but that did not stop him from reading it correctly and with as much grace as he could muster.

All of the bloody sudden, a mighty crash exploded in the Inn, the glass of each and every one of the windows shattered by a charging mass of… birds? However unlikely, it would have appeared so. Some pigeons, some robins, a whole flight of doves, half a murmuration of starlings and even a massive red kite, called from the Wind only knew where, all of these just stormed the Inn, everything thrashing in their way. All the efforts of Avian and Elfess in sorting out their paperwork… gone, utterly melted away in a flurry blur of wings, talons and beaks. The winged animals were literally everywhere, such a large number that none of the participants would have been able to see past his own arms. Maybe a glimpse only of poor Bobash, who tried to run away squealing like a gutted pig, a playful trio of starling already pulling his curls. No hint of what the huge features of the Giant were up to, but even in that mayhem anyone could have heard his thundering voice swearing terrifying words in his guttural, harsh language, possibly intent already to bring down some of the birds. The latter, unfazed, kept to flock around the rather diverse trio, everything pecking, glass shattering, hair most likely entangling with. An absolute ordeal that showed no sign to wear off, more and more winged creatures flowing into the already rather overcrowded venue.

Sabrina flinches as the windows crash and holds her booze close to her chest as the place is infiltrated by birds. She is perturbed as she sees the whole night’s work flutter about in a brand new. And next comes pecking at hair and skin alike where the elfess rises and forgets the paperwork. Her eyes focus on the door and she is headed towards it, calling for the other two to either follow or lock it down. Whatever Valen had coordinated, it was likely he would have to fix.

Wisax was preceded by omens, as it seemed. Just another bird arriving with the flock, as it were. Admittedly this one far more humanoid than the rest. And much less obviously.. well... avian, than the others. Pun or no. If anyone had been able to see anything in the cloud of feathered fiends, they may have seen the tall figure come through the door (Someone had to. The windows were over-crowded!). He – If indeed it was a man, hard to tell – was surreptitiously dressed for the situation. Hooded in a sort of semi-cloak of intricately-patterned cloth that wrapped around them almost like a sash and wearing appropriate protection in the form of heavy goggles with multiple lenses and a bronzed nose-guard that extended into a short hollow beak. The rest of their face would have been visible if not for the woolen scarf wrapped around their neck and lower head. On top of this they were wrapped in what appeared to be a cloak or robe of golden-blonde feathers. (Though a sharp pair of eyes may discern it's actually their own wings wrapped around them) There seemed to be a theme emerging here. Wrong place at the wrong time, indeed!

Thamalys dropped his jaw in awe, being overwhelmed by lesser birds being the very last thing he expected from the Drowish ink. The flying mass of pesky things was becoming unbearable, so thick in fact the Blue could not discern much of what was going on. Some deep sentiment of outrage building in him, the Spellblade would have thrown his glass on the table, soon after unfolding his huge wings with a single, powerful swooping motion, hopefully enough to clear the air that much he needed to take stock of the situation. The Elfess was wise enough to locate what was probably the best option, that is the sodding door. As such, he yelled to the Immortal with the loudest voice he could muster, in the attempt to overcome the noise, “Valen! Vaaaaaalen, make them stop! Throw them away, burn them, I don’t care… just - do - something, will you?” Right in the middle of his plea, the Blue would have spot the above mentioned door opening, thus winning hands down the coveted price for the worst-timed entrance in an Inn. He could not make much of it, the signs that should have suggested the newcomer belonged to the same kin of the Spellblade lost in the flurry mayhem, so that he just screamed toward the tall figure a not-so-polite remark. “Away, you fool! Reopen that door and keep it that way. Let that lady out! Let all of us out! Out!” he would have concluded, furling his wings, lowering his willowy features and charging head first toward the door, a gloved hand of the Elfess grabbing in the meantime, and a last look toward the Shadow Master. Not a second too late, as the latter seemed to have unleashed a rather dark part of himself, an horrific mass of shadows repelling and devouring the winged creatures in no time. He stopped, the room suddenly clear, just a few, stubborn birds only quietly ambling around in perfect, unnatural silence. The Elfess hopefully found her way out… but what about the Tall One, then. “And who… who the heck are - you- if I may?” he would have addressed the newcomer, panting heavily.

Wisax had, fortunately, not yet closed the door behind them. And likely had plenty reason to step right back out of it rather than remain to be yelled at. Though for the moment he was more preoccupied with the magical onslaught that came out of Valen. The stranger braced, one wing rising along with his right arm . In his hand he had a iron staff of simple make, tipped with a large globe. Though he did not use this weapon. Rather, he held his arm and wing as if to cushion an oncoming blow. Should a stray scythe sweep his way it would come to meet a shimmering dome, flashing into the visible world upon impact, woven out of what appeared to be a complex pattern of runes and circles – not entirely unlike an astrology map. Once – or indeed if – the danger subsided Wisax would turn half-way towards Thamalys. His expression wasn't visible, making his reaction to the less than friendly introduction somewhat difficult to read. The response wasn't. “I don't think you might.” His tone more than a bit dry. “Who's idea was this?”

Valen would have been lost in his rage, and even with the carcasses littered on the ground, scythes gone, it would still not be enough. From his very armor itself, shadows would once more move and blanket the entire area, turning the tavern into a rather dark area, almost too dark to see...before crunching of flesh and bones would be heard. Then the ethereal groaning, as if the shadows strained to hold in the excitement at something new...meat. they would feast this day... It was a sickening sound, and then would come the slurping..and once more the shadows would disperse, letting light in. Not even the beaks or feet had been spared, as it seemed that the very shadows themselves had devoured the corpses of birds, and sipped on all the blood that had been spilled. Finally, composing himself, he would turn on his heel and look to stare at Wisax with those Emerald Green eyes, as if studying him. He was an Avian, and yet again a most taciturn one. Why were -all- Avians so taciturn at first meetings?? "It was no one's -idea-. More like a spell that caused it. Thought we were reading some Drow Poetry..." Normally, as Thamalys might remember, Valen seemed to have a thing for Avians...and would have been blushing about thirty miles a minute by now, the Vampire was doing no such thing. "I also suggest you show Thamalys a bit more Decorrum, Sir. Of course, then again seeing as you seemed to arrive -with- that nuance, perhaps you might tell -us- who'se idea it was?"

Thamalys had no other option to sink into the darkness, the awful noises of the shadows around him resulting in long, cold shivers building in his very bones. “Valen…” he would have called, his voice a plea, dripping a sentiment that much had to do with fear. Because that particular shade of the Immortal, he truly dreaded: such an evil would have been enough for the Blue to set the offender wholly on fire, and yet, he could not even formulate such a thought against the one who saved him. He owned him so much, he managed somehow to swallow his feelings… or not. Redirect them seemed to be a perfectly sensible option. The moment the shadows vanished, the Spellblade did noted the massive shapes of one of the red kite, leaning over the dead body of his companion sprawled right within the window’s frame. Something snapped within him, but whatever it was, it would have had to wait, the rather unexpected rebuke of the fellow Avian having angered him to a non fractional extent. “Valen’s wisdom is some centuries old, you disrespectful winged beast. I would strongly recommend you to follow his advice before he turns you into a fuming pile of ashes. Why, maybe I - might - after all just set off to do that, then! Come here, No Name, see whether we can tear those silly wings apart…” he spat, two long strides taking toward the Winged Mage, both arms outstretched, gleaming gushes of blue flames already dripping merrily from the Spellblade hands. In a tiny corner of his mind, the Blue managed to summon a more mundane thought… who was going to pay for that awful damage? Yet another question went unanswered, the rather annoyed Avian making his flaming way swift and fast toward the cloaked shapes of his fellow kin.

Wisax looked to Valen first. One foot shifting as he turned his body forwards to face the vampire directly. Within the hood his head tilted a slight forward and to the side. “Seeing as you just explained the situation, I don't see why you're accusing me. As for decorum, I return what I am given.” He was not aggressive, in stark contrast to the others, but impatiently dry. A man with little patience, not a uncouth one. Speaking of what he was given, more of it was to come. He turned again, this time to face the approaching Thamalys, and couched his staff into the crook of his arm while wrapping his forearm around the shaft. His other wing pulled back a slight as his other hand was drawn to a cluster of wands in a case on his left hip. Beneath the cloak and wings, he was clad in what appeared to be a cross between armor and pockets. Pockets and containers ad nauseum. “By all means. Seeing as you pin your own mistakes on me and threaten my life on a whim, I assume you two are outlaws? I'll face you then, if I must.” Emotionless, Wisax sounded less than willing. Not fearful so much as exasperated. Since no one else had dealt with the apparent hoodlums, it unfortunately fell to him. And they were complaining to him about decorum? Well. Irony was a vice, of sorts.

Valen would hear Thamaly's words over and over in his head, those plea's. A smirk would play over his lips as he said "Valen? No no Sir. Valen is...Indisposed. Maldor is my name....Rest assured though, I am actually his family. His...brother, you might say." Upon seeing him turn on this new Avian though in such a state of anger, something snapped and those Green eyes turned back to their piercing blue. "Thamalys stop!!" Was now, Valen himself, his turn to plead...that voice once more a soft melodious tone, slightly feminine in sound. "Thamalys you stop that this instant!" Panic was now in his voice, as he was not about to stand by as a deep personal friend was about to make a very big mistake possibly. With sudden speed, he would go to try and grab Tham by the shoulders and give him a nudge back away from the other Avian. Suddenly the term 'outlaw' was thrown at them, and althouth the Vampire would still be going to Thamalys to try and get him to cease his advance, piercing blue eyes...innocent looking even, would lock onto Wisax's own eyes, and a soft sniffle would be given off. "I'm not an outlaw...I'm...I'm a teacher at the Larket academy, and leader of the Arcane Corps of the Larketian Army! Thamalys here...He's my best friend! No one here wants to fight and neither of us our outlaws...So...Please don't try to fight us? Thamalys is a good person, and heals a lot of people with the other healer known as Sabrina..." A quivering of his lip, those eyes, those feminine features on his face, he looked more like an armoured Damsel in distress than anything now, and there was no hint of a lie in his words or his face, because the male was actually telling the truth.

Thamalys turned his head sharply as soon as he heard that cold voice carving his way through his ears. “Maldor? What in the name of the Wind…” he began, only to quench his curiosity a split second after. He would have not embarrassed the Vampire in front of anybody, most surely not before the menacing attitude of the Winged Mage. The Spellblade was already whispering a chant long forgotten by most, his words summoning more and more of the blue fire into his hands, ready to leap into the air in scorching arcs of pure liquid pain. And yet, the Immortal’s command would have been duly followed - Valen needed only to speak, the Blue would have followed, if not gladly, swiftly enough indeed. “As you wish…” he muttered within clenched teeth, an awful mixture of blue and good still blazing within his eyes, nailed onto the fellow Avian not so far away. Halfling and Giant were both whimpering in the distance, their spirit most likely badly shaken by the too many spells summoned that dire day. Eventually, the Spellblade lowered his arms, the blue flames dancing for a moment more before vanishing into colourful steam. Without a word, he would have - gently - shoved off the hands still resting on his shoulder, pacing instead toward the window where the saddened red kite still perched from. He said nothing, but their eyes met - and knew each other, broken things both they were. Without a noise, the massive bird of pray leaped onto to the Blue shoulder. “I shall discuss with the Guild about how to cover for this mess…” he uttered toward nobody in particular, and then to Valen, “… and I am so sorry I made you read that Drowish spell - I could have not foresee such a result… what was I thinking…” he went on, already trudging to the door. “I’ll pay you a visit to the Academy soon, my friend… I believe I owe you a drink at least. As per you” he suddenly added, his tall shapes encircling those of the Winged Mage. “If you think that standing by your arrogance would do you any good, you are very much mistaking. I know my own kin - but thanks to rare people like the shadowy one you see in this very room, I came to understand there is very little point for us Avians to think we have to be dealt with as if we were all kings and queens. As a start, my name is Thamalys indeed. I wound, and I heal. If you ever feel inclined to share your name… finding me is easy enough, at least in Larket. Then, we shall talk, and be merry, and sip some proper Avian wine together. Till then…” he concluded, this time solidly heading for the door, in a couple of strides only disappearing into the winding streets. The last image of the Blue, a grateful salutation toward the Vampire, once more essential in preserving the well being of the Winged Beast.

Wisax remained as he was for a second, but soon enough pulled his hand from the wands in response to Thamalys stepping down, one wing wrapping back around his body and hiding his arm in the process. “I don't usually find teachers slaughtering birds in taverns.” he pointed out. “It was not I that threatened your lives. I am not the one you should be imploring not to fight.” he stepped around the two and made his way around the room where he began to help other patrons onto their feet or checking them for wounds. Though he still addressed the pair across the open space. “Arrogance? I arrive and you accuse me of causing your mess. I refuse you my name when you snap at me, and you threaten me. I stand to defend myself and you call me rude and arrogant.” he paused, looking over a shoulder towards the other avian while they were walking out. “You and I see the world through very different lenses. I am not accustomed to being threatened by healers for responding in kind when they snap at me. Still. I am Wisax Wewiframe.” the introduction spoken to the room at large, rather than Thamalys exclusively.

Valen's eyes would loft an eyebrow as he watched Thamalys exit, but would understand all too well as he waved the gentleman off with a sigh. At least things were going to be okay, and everything was fine. Looking now to Wisax, the Vamp would shake his head. "That was the first time...And...It's also a long story, one that goes all the way back to when I was twelve, and one that there is really not time for, if I might say so. No offense to you, but it is also a rather personaly story that I do not give out to strangers." As he listened to Wisax speak to Thamalys, an exasperated gesture would be made as his hand goes to his own forehead "Sir wisax please do not think of him too harshly...? I -did- save his life when we first met...He is only protective of me and means nothing by It, I can assure you. If it helps any," Here he would extend a hand in greeting "Valen Veldair, at your service."

Wisax eventually seemed satisfied with his survey of the people present and left them to their own devices. Finally, he returned his attention to Valen. On his way over, he lifted a hand to pull back the large hood and wrestled his goggle-mask onto his forehead. Beneath was a sharp-featured rather pointy face with a pronounced nose and narrow eyes. Still, it could be considered youthful. Perhaps even handsome from the right angle. A typical 'regal' avian visage. He sported short cropped hair of the same golden-blonde color as his wings and pale green eyes. “No offense taken. Seeing as I didn't ask.” he waved the explanation off without any fuss. “You'll have to excuse me if I'm somewhat skeptic to the claim that one would take my wings and incinerate my body would 'mean nothing'.” he paused in front of the vampire and took another look around the room. “As for being protective... Well. Hopefully he'll work on the methods with which he means to defend you.” a practical but critical person, quite clearly. “That aside. I find that the place is... unsuitable to my original intent. So I believe I'll leave the place to be restored by... whomsoever that task falls to.” Then he nodded, pulled the mask back down and stepped around Valen.

Valen had to admit, Thamalys had made some pretty bold statements towards Wisax, and he would indeed have to have a conversation about his people skills, as well as the same conversation with Maldor about making a spectacle of shadows. "I can most certainly understand where you come from sir, Consider him a work in progress then? At best?" When the male goe sto step around him, Valen would have moved from his path to better facilitate his step and travels, not wanting to be a hindrance by any means. Well either way, Merry Meet until we Merry meet again Sir Wisax! I hope that you end up finding what it is you might wish to find suitable, as well as I hope you stop by the Academy! It's just north of here, toward sthe Fort, and then North again once you reach where the path to the Fort starts! You will always be welcome there, and perhaps we might even share a brandy or two by a fire!" As he watched him go, part of him wondered just what had actually gone on. His mind was still racing and playing catch-up, but at the same time he was just glad it was over, and that hopefully he would get a second chance at making a friend of this new Avian. He did seem to collect them after all, and would certainly not mind more friends.