[Dandy Guild] No Girls Allowed [Maliken]

[Tabarnac]

77th Spring, 511 A.V. continued Crime was relatively low in Denval. The community was small enough that everyone knew everyone else for the most part, and the Captain's justice was fair, but swift and harsh. Too, when the entire population was versed in some sort of martial art, one didn't want to incur wrath and violence. And so the door to the guildhall was sometimes left unlocked, perhaps more often than other places, because the guildsmen were frequently three sheets to the proverbial wind when returning from the Stranger's Welcome or some other -- often public -- place to posture and partake of alcoholic beverages. And after all, who was going to steal from some of the fiercest warriors in the town? A sandy-haired man came down the creaking steps in his underclothes, a thin shirt and smallclothes that kept his pants from smelling too musky too soon. His hair was mussed, his eyes bleary. He stopped in front of Maliken, peering at her for a long moment in silence as if trying to decide whether she was a pink oliphant or really and truly there. "Is this real life?" he wanted to ask, but all he could recall at the moment was carousing in the square before the Captain's Hall, serenading her window. He wasn't sure whose splendid idea it had been to try to fit Astrid's two-syllable name into the three-syllable name of the woman in the song. "Sweet As-ter-id... bum, bum, bum... Good times never seem so good? Sweet Priskil's glowing bosoms..." "Pardon, milady," he croaked, his gallantry marred by his condition. "I am..." He glanced down at his relative undress. "Not quite fit to receive... guests... May I help you?"

[Maliken]

Maliken stood there for a long moment as her dark eyes wandered over this man, considerably taller than her cursed height-severed race, but said nothing for a long moment. Was it terribly late when she arrived? Now that she thought about it, she didn't take much into account of time of day, day of the season, or the personal schedules other than hers, which was hardly scheduled at all and more a maelstrom of disorderly events. "I don't know." Maliken lifted her right hand and gently massaged the right temple, as if she had a faint headache she wanted to relieve. "I'm new... in Denval. I'm a little confused. What is this place? I was under the... impression that, people came here." It was probably easily to pick up that Common was not Maliken's natural language, the constant pausing and hesitation, fairly vague phrases that did little to explain her presence here. Despite being more Isur in language than Common, Maliken could still pick up on the indecency here. He was in the male equivalent of a night gown, if even that much, and it almost seemed to make him mildly uncomfortable. Maliken spun around, turning her back to the man so that he might feel a little less harassed by her eyes. "Pardon me man (she figured it was the correct way to say it, assumed he called her 'my lady' rather than 'milady' earlier). Should I leave?" Maliken sighed as she stared at the doors once again, this time from the inside. Minutes ago she was hesitating entering this place and she could scarcely understand as to why, now it was the thought of leaving. It seemed more logical now, but rude to depart in the middle of a conversation.

[Tabarnac]

"This place is the guildhall. Ahem, the Guild of Dandy Swordsmen. And the occasional woman. People do come here," though he didn't add 'with an invitation', "to dine and drink and otherwise toss about." He squinted at her, and apparently his gaze was terrifying because she spun around. It wasn't until he saw the fall of her clothes that he realized she was missing something rather important. Bare feet padded silently until he was standing behind her, bending down to whisper in her ear. "You needn't leave. You're here now. I'm Jarl. Would you like some breakfast?"

[Maliken]

Maliken listened silently as he explained the place. A "Guild Hall" wasn't something she was familiar with. Sultros was more classified into clans, and to the best of Maliken's understanding, humans had places of gathering were people banded together, somewhat like a loosely fitting clan. She had hoped to joined but the way he was telling about it began to show a list of requirements to join. "Man", "Sword", two things she lacked, not to mention the inability to wield a blade with any sort of finesse. She sighed, thinking that it was a waste of her and Jarl's time coming her. She was about to move back towards the door when the man's voice whispered in her ear. The warm moisture tickling as he spoke. Maliken might have tensed up unintentionally as he did this, startling her slightly. Maliken hesitated a moment to his question, she wasn't particularly hungry, but this was almost sounding like an invitation to remain, to, she dared to consider, be a part of their "Guild Hall", whatever that was. She turned around, looking back up at Jarl and shrugged, then nodded slowly. "That would be nice, Jarl. Thank you."

[Tabarnac]

Blithely ignoring the lack of decorum in his state of relative undress, he took her arm in his, settling her hand in the crook of his elbow and lead her to the kitchens, which were large as those things went in the humble settlement of Denval. He helped her onto a stool and then set about preparing things. He stoked the coals of the fire, added wood, and pumped water into a cast iron kettle to hang over the crackling fire. Then he went about preparing food. There was a studied deftness to his work, and he often checked back with her, flashing a welcoming smile that glossed over the former awkwardness. "Now, we went over my name," he said cheerily, his remnants of a hangover shoved aside that he might be charming for his guest. "But may I be blessed with hearing your own? Also, now would be an opportune time to tell me what breakfast foods do not suit your palate."

[Maliken]

Maliken peered at his hands as he gently took control of her arm to lead her away. It was odd, something she wasn't particularly familiar with. Sultros wasn't particularly brimming with courtesies or pleasantries, it was all about work. Life was all about your work for your god. Gentlemanship was something that was unfamiliar, odd even, to the young Isur. Still, with no desire to upset the residents of Denval by accidentally stepping all over their cultural quirks, Maliken accepted it. Maliken found herself up on a stool without so much as remembering climbing up it herself. She didn't have to. This human seemed to make it his goal to usher her around and care for her as if she was only a child, though she figured she probably looked like a child of theirs (Humans). "Maliken Ironfist of the Pitrius Clan." Jarl, she noted, had a significantly shorter, easier, casual title that he gave himself. She had always been confused by this, humans, their greetings. How could they tell each other apart with names that could be so easily confused for another? Maliken shrugged her shoulders at his last statement as well. She also wasn't yet fluent at the culinary options of humans. If she did have something she didn't like, she wouldn't know it, or know what to call it, or what it was. "Thank you."

[Tabarnac]

"Well, Maliken Ironfist of the Pitrius Clan," he said, "it is an honor to make your acquaintance. Our names aren't as convoluted here. Some people still claim surnames from before the Valterrian, but many of us have given over such relics to the Chaplain of Viratas who holds the lineages in his chapel. There is only one Jarl here, and we haven't all that many people, but if there's any confusion, I'm Jarl, son of Evander. Or Evandersson, I suppose. But my offspring would be Jarlsson or... well, we have the luxuries of a small population as well as the penalties." Since she hadn't indicated any foods she didn't like, he set about steeping some tea, toasting bread, frying eggs and bacon, and otherwise making a traditional sort of meal, or at least traditional in places like Denval, Zeltiva, and the other Syliran cities. "You're quite welcome, of course." He made small talk until the food was ready, set her a heaping plate -- he had no idea how large an Isur's appetite would be -- and sat down with his own, careful that nothing untoward showed from his boxers. "In any case, membership is a rather convoluted process, but you should feel free to drop by and socialize with us. You will be my guest. Now tell me what you think of Denval, including blemishes, the which I shall endeavor to rectify. I can do anything after a hearty breakfast with a pretty lady."

[Maliken]

Maliken was confused, thoroughly so. She stared at Jarl as he went on his lengthy monologue on names, as if he had just read her mind. Perhaps he caught a certain facial expression of wonder as she sat silent. Regardless, she was amazed he predicted her thought, one way or another, and explained himself and the others in Denval. Maliken was at a loss for words as well. How did you respond to something like that when you only understood a portion of it? Common, so confusing. "Jarlsson... What if you had a son with a member of a clan?" Maliken was somewhat intrigued by the conversation all of a sudden. What about blended races, what would the offspring become? Maliken chuckled lightly to herself before shaking her head and dismissing the conversation entirely. Maliken found herself actually quite hungry now that the food was well cooked and its aroma was engulfing the room. And now that the plate was in front of her, she didn't know where to begin, or even how to eat it properly, by Human standards of course. Was there any improper way of eating? She hoped not. Maliken reached over and snagged a piece of bacon with her fingers and examined it. "What is this?" Then she bit into it, chewed and swallowed. She was pleased well enough with it to finish off the bacon, and reach for another. Yes, she was hungry. "I don't understand. What is membership?" Convoluted escaped her. Large fancy Common words, so difficult to understand. How was she supposed to have a conversation in this place when she had to stop and ask questions about words? "It is brighter than Sultros. There's a breeze here. Everyone is so tall. I haven't seen many Isur here. I don't know where I can find plants to collect. I don't think Doctor Jarret likes me because I'm short. He seems a little grouchy. And I saw a man with horns. I've never seen someone like that before, not in Sultros." Maliken buried another strip of bacon between her teeth as she chewed and swallowed. Random observations is what she gave Jarl, her first impressions of the city, not much to work with, perhaps.

[Tabarnac]

"Are you proposing children to me?" he asked with a rakish smile. "Already? Well, with just a whiff of breakfast... Sometimes I impress myself." He laughed and then considered. "I suppose it would depend on whether the fruit of that union were born and raised in Denval or in Sultros, wouldn't it? Denval today is the product of... Well, the Suvan Empire was, in fact, an empire. A conglomeration of different cultures, and the Denvali came from many of them, united more by a military doctrine than anything else. Hence some people use surnames, others... don't. "That", he said, "is bacon, which is fried fat, mostly. Not the best for the waistline, but excellent for the morning after drinking. Coats the stomach. Just ask Master Jarret... And you'll have to excuse him. He is, in fact, rather old. His bones ache and he can't compete with younger men and women any longer, so he's grouchy, as you say." But he waved off talk of membership. She didn't seem to have a perfect command of the language, and so he didn't belabor the issue.