Completed A Filly at the Stallion (Wanda Endust)

[Tourmal Firemane]

Tourmal, Winter 27, 513 AV The night air was brisk. Tourmal just finished his bath after another long day at the Works. And he was headed to his favorite eatery. As he walked down the chill corridors he listened to his stomach growl. 'Tis loud enough to wake a bear' he thought. The Drykas had forgotten to pack a dinner so he was starving by the time he had finished bathing. He thought instead he would eat at the Stallion and have a pint or three while he was there. He had noticed there were considerable new faces he had not become acquainted with yet ones he would normally jump at the chance to. However up till now he was generally exhausted after a day of work. The man had just grown accustomed to the all day labor of the Iron Works again. He had taken 3 seasons off in Endrykas and had grown a little chubby and lazy. But since then he had burned off the excess weight he had put on while on leave to his home city. Thankfully it was never as rewarding trying to hit on a lady, when they would grab your gut and joke about its size. That was always a deal breaker when it came to him. There was no way he would let himself be remembered as being the chubby one. The man came near the door of the tavern and grabbed the handle pulled it open and slid through, he tried not to let much cool air in with him. He knew how he disliked people who left it open too long. He let down his hood and took in a deep breath smelling the fresh bread and stew that he would be shortly savoring. It was mixed with the scent of ale. The Sylirans did like their ale, he however was more fond of mead which he found was common for Drykas. As he sat down at the bar he caught the eye of one of the waitresses “I'll take the house special and some mead” he placed two GM's in the woman's hand “Keep the mead coming as long as this lasts, and have one fer yerself” he said with a wink. He knew it was good to keep a good relationship with the barmaids. However he never crossed that line. There was nothing worse than having an angry barmaid serving yeh. The man looked around and saw some new faces a few piqued his interest. 'That could wait for later' he thought as his stomach let out a large growl. With the food on the table he dug in every so often washing down his bites with a gulp of mead. The meal was so savory and smooth, “Send my compliments to Rondo would ya?” He told his server. The Mead was sweet and complimented the meal well. When he was finished eating he had finished his pint and another was on its way. That was when he took a second look at the crowd.

[Wanda Endust]

Wanda was tired, of that much she was certain. Besides that, she couldn't tell you how she felt. It'd been a long day at work, with a seemingly endless stream of customers filled with their gossip for the day.

From the conversations she had, she'd gleaned that some kind of ship was found moored offshore earlier that day -- a pirate ship, or so it was rumored.

Normally, when there was some hot topic of gossip to be had, the various taverns throughout the city were filled to the brim with folks eager to either hear the news or perpetuate it. As such, it came as a surprise to Wanda that the Stallion had a only a modest crowd. Perhaps everybody was down at the docks, trying to see if they could spot the ship.

Whatever the case, Wanda was grateful for the kind of peace. For about 5 chimes, that is. Now, she sat at an empty table, drumming her fingers on the wooden tabletop and resting her head lazily on her arm. At the beginning, she may have thought some quietude would do her good. But if that were the case, why in Syna's light would she make her way to a tavern of all places?

Somewhere in her subconscious she'd been craving some kind of action, something to get a bit of blood pumping in her veins after a long, tedious day at work.

An idea struck.

"'Ey!" she called above the dim rumble of conversation, directing her voice towards the half-drunk bard lounging on the raised dais at one end of the room. He started and tumbled a bit from his seat at the girl's sudden outburst, and more than a few heads swung her way.

"I say we need a story!" she continued, slapping her hand on her table. There was a pause, then someone from across the room gave a hearty "Aye!"

"A pirate story!" someone else contributed.

"Aye!" a couple more approving cheers rang out.

On the stage, the bard simply shook his head lazily. "P'shaw, not from me..." he slurred, eyes squinted as he sank further into his chair. "If'n y' want 'un so baaad," he chortled, "then why-for don't ya tell it yerself then, hmm?" He let out a belch.

The small crowd that had become roused scoffed at the fellow, a couple waving their hands his way dismissively. "Oh, no no no," countered Wanda, cocking an eyebrow jovially. "I haven't got nearly enough ale in me for that."

She sighed inwardly. She hadn't planned on drinking at all tonight. Then again, she hadn't planned on sharing a story tonight either. But if it meant bringing a little spice to an otherwise dull day, it just might be worth it.

[Tourmal Firemane]

Tourmal, Winter 27, 513 AV As he looked around he spotted the few that were there before he ate, and one he didn't see before. He would have noticed her, since she was sitting alone at a table. He watched a little longer to see if she was just waiting for company when suddenly “Ey!” she said loud enough for the room to hear. Tourmal cocked his head wondering what was coming next. “I say we need a story!” “Ah.” He said to himself. She looked at the bard who was as drunk as one can get. Then someone brought up pirates. There had been rumors of a pirate ship offshore for some time. He attributed the story to hogwash. However he wouldn't mind a nice story instead of gossip. The bard evidently wasn't in the mood to share an epic tale. “Pirates” he said to himself and laughed. The word had brought up some memories of a Bard who had a stint at pirating himself “Hendry Jimmix” he whispered. The young filly retorted saying she didn't have enough ale in her yet. Before she had finished the sentence he had his hand in his pocket and had pulled out a GM to get the party started. He looked to Kevith and gave him a wink handing him the gold. Kevith knew what to do He had known Tourmal for a good long while and the two needn't say anything anymore to get some messages across. In a matter of ticks a pitcher of ale was sitting next to the lady who had called for some drinks, and the barmaid motioned to her that the drinks were from Tourmal. The man kept his eyes on the girl till she looked his way he smiled and nodded for her to get the story started. “Well now, you have yer ale.” He said turning his head toward the crowd as he stood up and walked to her table.“I think yeh ow these people a story.” The crowd responded positively agreeing with his last statement. He paused adding a flirtatious smile leaning on the chair across from her and then pulled it out and sat down. “Waddya waitin fer?” The smith crossed his legs on the table and leaned back just a bit. Then he raised his mug to her “Let's have a drink to our new friend and lovely entertainer for the night.” The Drykas added another nod while the tavern exploded in cheers followed by silence as they took their drinks. Tourmal downed half his mead in less than a tick. “Let's hear it!” Tourmal was sure to have gotten her attention. Unless she was deaf, dumb, and blind, which she already proved she wasn't. He hoped she would react positively, he didn't pull out the theatrics to scare her. Instead merely to prod her and challenge her a bit to see if she could show him up and make the poor Drykas eat his words. Besides it would add some flavor and intrigue to the story. Everyone was watching now to see what she would come up with.

[Wanda Endust]

Before she could do anything else, Wanda found an excessively large glass of ale sitting under her nose. A entire pitcher, in fact.

She gagged a bit, in both surprise and mild disgust. ow she remembered just why she so commonly refused to drink. The smell of the concoction was repugnant, and reminded her of the feet of some old man she had as a client some number of days ago.

Wanda was acutely aware of the eyes of the other patrons on her. Some chuckled or laughed outright, some had returned to their tipsy conversations, but a good amount still kept at least one eye on the girl.

"Huh?" She shot a quizzical look to the barmaid who'd brought the pitcher, who in turn gave a little nonchalant motion to a man sitting at the bar.

The fellow spoke up, and those who might've lost interest in the display were piqued once more as he made his way to her table.

Wanda herself furrowed her brow as he approached. She was sitting, so it was difficult for him to gauge the fellow's height, though he appeared to be nearly a foot taller than herself. Maybe more. Besides that, he was well-built, but not any more so than the other male patrons. After all, most everyone in the tavern was a laborer of some kind. But what struck Wanda about the man's appearance was just how tanned he was. It was an uncommon sight in the fortress city. Or perhaps just an uncommon sight to her.

Either way, once he'd finished his little spiel and the crowd's cheers of agreement had died down, Wanda returned with a challenging tone of her own. "Ah, I don't owe any o' you aything!" she chortled, pulling the pitcher closer. Of course, she did owe the tan man a miza or two for the drink.

That is, if she drank it. Which she would, no matter how much she thought she didn't want to.

She drew her eyes away from the crowd, feeling a bit cornered as she peered at the beverage before her. No harm could come of it, right? It'd certainly make the day a bit more interesting.

With that thought in mind, Wanda brought the pitcher to her lips, doing her best to ignore the smell. The glass was far heavier than she'd imagined but, luckily for her, she managed to save herself a good bit of embarrassment by being mindful enough to use both hands. Thus, she drank.

Besides. If she didn't, she would be remembered as that girl with too big a mouth and no guts to back it up. The glass was about half gone when, with a huff, she gingerly placed the mug back onto the table and stood, glancing across at the crowd with a look that betrayed more confidence than she actually felt and shooting a pretend-glare at the tanned man who still seemed to be hovering about her table.

No way would she have been able to finish the whole thing. Actually, she was already feeling a little unstable on her feet. Perhaps she should sit down.

Nah, onto the tale.

"Ye all wanna hear a story then, hm?" she chirped, the tan man's little show having already grabbed the crowd's attention. There was collective "Aye!" from the room.

Wanda turned to the tan man with a wink. "I'll say, friend. I couldn't hear these lovely people above all the noise. Did they say they wanted a story or not?" she feigned, loud enough for the rest of room to hear. There were a few howls from across the room in response, followed by one or two shouts of "Aye, get on with it!"

If she drew this first part out long enough, perhaps she could actually come up with an idea for the story to begin with.

Truth be told, she knew next to nothing about the high seas in the first place, let alone pirates.

She turned back to the crowd.

"Well, my grandmum told me a story once..." Wanda crossed her arms behind her back in an attempt to steady both her posture and her voice. It didn't work, and Wanda decided that it wasn't a comfortable position in the first place.

Instead, she turned to grab the edge of the table and hoisted herself to a sitting position atop the wood, resting her feet in the chair she'd occupied just moments ago.

"Mhm. Where was I? Oh! Yeah, my grandmama. Told me a story a couple years ago --" Pure hogwash. " -- about some old svefran pirate named..." She pressed a hand to her brow, searching for some title that seemed suitable for the high seas. "Bloodeye Black!" she decided suddenly, slapping her knee in self-satisfaction. Yes, that name sounded menacing enough.

"Now, old Bloodeye was some kinda bad. And when I say bad, I mean he was really, really bad." Wanda paused, leaning forward conspiratorially. "Some even say he was in cahoots with the evil gods himself.

"Anyhow, Bloodeye roamed the coast of the Suvan, murdering and ransacking and pillaging to any friendly ships unlucky enough to cross his path. By the time he made his way all the way to the southern end of the world, he'd loaded his ship with a whole city's worth of gold and jewels and swords and all kinds of priceless artifacts of that sort."

She paused again, gauging the crowd through a gaze that was getting blurrier by the tick. They seemed to be enjoying it so far. Then again, she'd barely even started.

With a reassured nod to herself she opened her mouth to continue, only to find that she'd lost track of her thoughts.

Shyke! Wanda groaned inwardly. This is why you don't mix ale and storytelling! she chided herself. Especially improvised storytelling.

Trying not to appear visibly upset, she searched about for something she could use to get herself back to the story. Her gaze landed on the tan man once again.

"Ey!" she began, reaching out a had to the fellow and causing a few groans from the patrons as she broke away from the story. "You look like you've probably heard this story before!" Of course he hadn't. She was just now making it up. But if she could get the man to play along, it could take the pressure off of her.

"Why don't you get on o'er here and help me out, eh? Two drunken heads are better than one."

[Tourmal Firemane]

Tourmal, Winter 27, 513 AV Tourmal was impressed with her performance. She had done well quickly coming up with a story that she had heard from her grandmum of all people. For him it was the men who told the stories but it works. Bloodeye Black was the Pirates name and he was a much wanted criminal all across the Suvan Sea. The story was going along swimingly and then she paused and got off track. She took a while to compose herself and when she came to “Ey!” She had decided that he knew the story and should help out. For a second Tourmal was confused. What would make her think he knew a story her grandmum told her from her childhood. But she insisted for him to help her out. The man brought down his feet off the table and looked her in the eyes to see what she was getting at. “Two drunken heads are better than one.” He thought a tick, and it clicked. She had been making the thing up the whole time. Unfortunately he was in passive listen mode and was a bit slow on the uptake. The man paused and Thought for a bit. “Let's see where were we now?” He stalled for time. Then he realized he could use on of his own stories he heard as a lad and work it into the story “Well Bloodeye was a nasty man, as bad as they come. There were tales of how he was immortal. Some saying he was stabbed all the way through nigh five times and still lived on to plunder the next port.” The man repositioned himself next to the girl and grabbed his mug. “And since he had been working the sea fer so long” He continued. “Many of the cities tried banding together to fight against him.” Tourmal got up off the edge of the table and instead climbed up on it and knelt down on one knee looking at the crowd around the crowd for a few ticks to build suspense. He had to put his mug down as he maneuvered into position but after he was there he downed the last half of his mead, then motioned for a refill and continued the story“But try as they might they never succeeded. “Now Bloodeye had amassed himself a small army and often visited the local taverns to fill up on grog and the like. And he thought himself a fine lute player, often bragging that if there was one thing he was better than plundering and pillaging at, it was playing the lute. In fact he was so sure of himself that he regularly said if anyone could beat him in a contest he would give up his life of thievery just like that.” Tourmal took another gulp of his newly filled mug. “In fact, he had made this claim so often that all of the locals at each port had set out a search for lute players all over the land. They searched far and wide and put up signs requesting aid unbeknownst to Bloodeye. Slowly bard's from all around started showing up to these towns and as Bloodeye arrived they were sent to the taverns to challenge the murdering scoundrel and each time Bloodeye humiliated them.” Tourmal paused to let the crowds boo's die, As he did he downed ha. “Over and over the bards were defeated. The ones who got close to winning he would use underhanded techniques to win. But then.” He looked across the crowd, and took another swig. “It just so happened that a man had seen one of the signs, and thought, This would be easy money. He wasn't famous yet but he was definitely on his way there. Amongst his hometown Sunberth he had made quite a name for himself known as the best Lute player in the whole crime infested city. It was a wonder he didn't get his throat slit. They say he was just as skilled with speech as he was in the lute and could convince an Ebonstryfe to marry a Syliran knight. His name was, Hendry Jimmix” “They say his skin was as dark as chocolate and his hair as big as a storm cloud and as black as the night in a new moon. His teeth as white as snow and anytime he was in town the peoples pockets would be half as heavy by the time he left.” The man grabbed his mug and took another gulp and sat down next to the woman. “This is fun. What's yer name?” He waited for her reply “Yeh mind pickin up fer a bit? Me throat is getting dry need some more mead.” He said to her with a smile and a wink.

[Wanda Endust]

The man's pause got Wanda's nerves on edge. The bemused look on his face got her worried that her meaning would be lost on him, and she'd be left floundering in front of the audience. Luckily enough, he seemed to catch on to her little dilemma, and she breathed an inward sigh of relief.

She shifted over to provide room for him on the table as he caught the trail of the story and ran with it. She had to admit, as she gazed across at the crowd, that he took the story in a totally different direction than she'd been imagining. There was no high-seas battle, no glory gained in the midst of some heroic confrontation -- which was probably for the best because Wanda had no experience with any of those things.

Besides that, judging from the occupied expressions of the audience, she didn't think they minded (or noticed) the slight change in theme. Wanda toyed with the handle of her own drink, cradling it in her lap as she listened to his recant. She kept her eyes toward the crowd as she listened, the side-by-side positioning making it somewhat uncomfortable to watch him from where she sat.

She tensed in surprise when he halted the tale and slid down next to her on the table's edge. Hm? Oh, he was passing the story back to her now. Looked like she wasn't getting out of it that easy! "My name's Wanda," she answered with a easy grin and cocked eyebrow, just loud enough for only him to hear. With that, she pulled her legs up from where they were propped on the chair and brought her feet to the table. She propped one up resting, her elbow on the knee, and left the other to dangle off the table.

"Alrighty. So this Hendry Jimmix fellow was real clever, right? But he wasn't some underhanded trickster. Nah, he was bold. So what's he do? Well, he saw the signs an' all, and didn't even wait a single day before bargin' up right on Bloodeye's front door.

Now, there was this one joint -- no bigger than the Stallion here, really -- that had come to be known as Bloodeye's favorite hideout for him and his crew. Everybody knew to stay away from the place, lest they got run through with the scumbag's own blade." She imitated a stabbing motion here, emphasizing the words.

"See, if somebody wanted to pick a fight with ol' Bloodeye, it'd be on his own terms. Nobody ever bothered him at his own place. Except Jimmix.

That sly dog just waltz right up to the front door of the tavern and knocked like he didn't have a clue about it. But he knew it was Bloodeye's joint -- could tell from the awful stench. But like I said, those pirates weren't too accustomed to havin' visitors. Soon as Jimmix's dark hand touched the wood, the music inside stopped. No one said a word.

Jimmix just grinned that sly grin and didn't move until someone called from the other side of the door: 'Who izzit? What'cher want?' And what'd Mister Jimmix do? Well, first he laughed to himself. 'Death,' he answered. 'An' I come to challenge Bloodeye!'

With that, Hendry Jimmix kicked in the door, crushing whatever poor fool was standing on the other side. Every other pirate stood, drawing their blades to kill the intruder, but one look from ol' Bloodeye's eyes was enough to freeze 'em all where they stood. 'Let 'im in,' he growled, pulling his instrument from the case. 'I seen Death before, and He wuz a lot more impressive than this mangy kid.'

So Jimmix grins and steps on in, swaggering up to the Captain and brandishin' his own polished lute. 'Ready, you gall-less pig?' he says. All Bloodeye did was laugh, and Jimmix didn't even bat an eyelash at the man's foul, gut-wrenching breath.

And the showdown began! Jimmix hopped up on a tabletop, kicking mugs and bowls about as he swung his weapon into position. His first strum o' his lute strings was so beautiful that it brought tears to the eyes of the nearest man -- and the rest of his music was no worse. He worked away on that instrument like a madman, sweat dripping off his brow. He even made his own self tear up a bit.

As his last note died off, Bloodeye looked around to see that he was the only fella without a single drop of wet in his eye. 'I oughta kill all o' you blubberin' fools! he swore. He'd seen that he'd been beat, and he hadn't even gotten a chance to play his own tune. He was filled with some kind o' rage, some flood o' hate as he watch Jimmix work his magic. Suddenly, outta both anger and anguish, Bloodeye drew his wicked blade and lunged at Jimmix.

Now Jimmix had been watching Bloodeye this whole time, and was well prepared. Bloodeye, in his flurry o' hatred, was taken by surprise when Jimmix danced to the side. The bard raised his lute with a flick of his wrist, and SMASHed it atop the villain's head. And, just like that, Bloodeye fell dead.

How? Well, some say that sly Jimmix had the backside of his lute lined with spikes. That much is true, but I say his song weakened old Bloodeye's heart o' stone. It wasn't just the blow that killed 'em, but the sheer beauty of the song.

And that," she took a small swig of ale to punctuate her statement, "is how Hendry Jimmix brought an end to Bloodeye Black's reign of terror. But, with Bloodeye's death, no one knows what happened to all his treasure. It disappeared, vanished into thin air soon as his black soul departed from his body.

But some say, when Syna and Leth both sit on the horizon, they can see an ancient sloop of war on the horizon, sails emblazoned with a bloody eye and deck overflowing with treasure. But that's a story for another time."

With that, Wanda gave a miniature bow and hopped down from the table. And applause grew as she did so, eventually fading off as conversation returned to the tavern. The teen couldn't help feeling a swell of pride -- that, by far had to be the best story she'd ever told. Even if it was a little rough around the edges.

"Not bad, huh?" she winked, turning to the tan man beside her. "Thanks for helping me out there. Did a pretty good job..." she acquiesced, fiddling with the pitcher of ale that still sat unfinished. Then, with a cheeky grin, "...For an old man."

[Tourmal Firemane]

Tourmal, Winter 27, 513 AV “Wanda” Tourmal listened to the sound of her name. “Hmm.” Her performance earlier had piqued his interest already and if it weren't for that he would not think anything special about her name. Wanda was common. But she seemed exceptional. Much more than her name would suggest. The young woman picked up with the story where he had left off and it went rather well. Considering she seemed to know nothing of Hendry Jimmix it sounded like he would actually do all the things she said. Tourmal took pride in that, evidently he had done a good job in developing the character before he handed the story off to her. He himself was new to story telling however he had heard enough to know how it was done. It seemed that all you had to do was emphasize key moments with hand gestures and get louder or softer depending on the occasion. When the story was over she bowed. Tourmal gave her his hand to help her down from the table. The crowd was clapping and Tourmal smiled in embarrassment. He was not used to getting praised much. As the applause died off the smith turned to the girl. “I liked what you did at the end with the ship filled with gold.” He grinned “Nice effect.” The man winked at her. “Not bad at all.” He said “I am a Drykas, I should be able to tell a story.”he said thinking about how everyone else in Endrykas were very skilled in telling stories. “Old man?!” He exclaimed. “Well, since I payed for your drinks would you mind having a few more with this old man?” The man jested. “Men my age don't get much company especially from beautiful young women like yourself.” He winked at her. “Look at you.” The man looked her up and down. The woman standing in front of him was nice and firm looking. Her skin was lightly tanned her face young, and her lips looked soft as rose petals. The hair that framed her face was long blonde and wavy. “Yes it has been some time indeed.” He said again feigning his old age. He pulled out a seat for his company. “Please, have a seat.” he bowed slightly. The man walked back to the bar and grabbed his food he had left there, and brought It to the table with him. He placed it in front of the chair next to her, and pulled out the seat. He then sat down half turned toward the woman. The man motioned to the barmaid “A pitcher please” He said. The barmaid had taken his order before and knew to bring mead and not ale like his new companion. “So Wanda.” He said before pausing. “What is it you do besides bluff your way through a story? Rather well too.”

[Wanda Endust]

The excitement died down after a moment as people returned to their conversations, though they did so with much more gusto than they had earlier. Wanda's face was still flushed, likely more-so from the excitement in the air than from the fellow's compliment. Even if she'd felt like a blind man feeling his way through a maze as she told the story, it had turned out quite well. But that wasn't the only compliment he'd paid her.

After nearly a year working at the bath house, running her skilled fingers over peoples' skin, Wanda had developed some kind of immunity to aesthetic admiration. Actually, she would much rather be appreciated for her skill, something she worked to attain, than for any surface-based pleasure she offered. It was almost like complimenting the sky for being blue, or a stone for being solid.

However, that didn't necessarily mean she didn't appreciate the notion. And it especially didn't mean she couldn't play along.

Wanda returned his wink with a grin of her own -- despite what her sentiments may be, she didn't have to feign the gesture. She was genuinely happy in the moment. Dragging her own half-full pitcher across the tabletop, Wanda took a seat in the adjacent chair and stretched her legs beneath the table. "Ay, but I think I'll have to call it quits on the drinks," she chuckled, toying with the glass in front of her. "Looks like I might be good to go for the rest of the night!"

She'd been partially joking with the "old man" statement, but now that she was able to face the fellow head on, it occurred to her that she wasn't altogether wrong. Relatively speaking. He still seemed pretty young, but blended well with the Stallion's regular crowd, who were usually roughly ten years older than Wanda was now.

"Well," she began in answer to his question, "not much, really." She gave a wayward shrug and cocked an eyebrow pensively. "I work," she decided. That's all anyone really did, wasn't it? She smirked at the thought. "I'm a masseuse at the bath house."

Maybe they would run into each other sometime? Wanda smiled. He seemed like a pretty good-natured guy -- it might be fun to meet him again after tonight. Then she realized: "Ah, I didn't get your name," she pointed out, suddenly leaning forward. "What do you do besides flirt with young ladies in bars?" she quipped jovially, recycling his own phrasing.

[Tourmal Firemane]

Tourmal, Winter 27, 513 AV The young woman sat down with Tourmal and told him that she would likely have to quit drinking. “That's no fun. You gonna let this old man out drink yeh?” He jested. He looked at her she was small, much smaller than he, and it was probably a good idea she had about 3 mugs worth of ale and likely just started drinking. Most women could not handle their alcohol well, not as well as men. Tourmal slowed his drinking a bit trying to make a mug last about an hour. When he asked about what she does. She replied saying she works, then specified that she was a masseuse. “Hmm. That's funny, I have never seen you before. I get a massage about once a season and bathe over there about once every 10 days.” The man explained. “It's much more comfortable than washin in me tub at my place. Nice ta relax every now an agin, ya know?” He looked at the girl again with new interest. She was surprising that was for sure. First commanding attention from everyone by askin fer a story, then getting up and telling one. Now she is a masseuse. Many qualities that Tourmal enjoyed. Even if nothing ever happened between the two of them. She would be nice to have around for a good laugh and a massage here and there. “Oh, how rude of me. It's Tourmal. Tourmal Firemane.” Then she turned his earlier jest around on him. “Well some times I flirt with ladies me own age, and other times I flirt with ladies a little older than me too.” He joked back. “But really, when I am not here or the Soothing Waters, I am at work.” Tourmal poured himself a full mug and took a sip. As he poured he said,“I'm a weaponsmith at the Iron Works.” Tourmal looked at the lady, and figured, given her job and looks she likely got quite a bit of attention. And decided that if that was the case then she wouldn't mind much more. “If you massage as good as you look I'll bet you get tons of work.” Then he took another sip. “So tell me a bit about your self.” The man watched her listening to her response.

[Wanda Endust]

As the man spoke, Wanda fiddled with her drink. Oh yes, she was definitely done with the alcohol. It'd taken a bit for the effects of the drink to kick in, and Wanda wondered if perhaps the bar tender had watered down the pitcher out of courtesy. She wasn't quite a real regular, but she'd been around enough for one or two staffers to realize she didn't typically drink -- it wouldn't surprise her if they'd taken certain precautions to make sure they wouldn't have some overly-dramatic drunk girl on their hands.

It really was a wonder that the two hadn't met before, though if he did only go for a massage once a season it would make some sense that their paths had never crossed. A bath every ten days... that was, what, nine trips to the Soothing Waters a season? Ten counting the massage. Wanda might be in the bath house every day, but she only ever entered the general pool area on her free time for a bath of her own. Except for certain circumstances, of course. Nonetheless, with the limited amount of trained masseuses, it was a wonder that they hadn't run into each other somehow.

Perhaps they had met, and she'd forgotten? Nah, Wanda tossed out that theory as she returned his meandering gaze. Though her vision was beginning to blur just slightly, she could still tell that the fellow was far more attractive than she would've liked to admit.

He'd mentioned earlier that he was a Drykas, right? She didn't know much about the people other than the recent infamous raids, though the man -- he'd introduced himself as Tourmal -- didn't seem like the raiding kind. Speaking of his name... It sounded quite odd to her ears. There was a kind of earthy element to it's tone, but it's unique syllables and increasingly-addled mind had her wondering if it had some kind of foreign meaning. (Perhaps it was some other word backwards? Lam-ru-ot. No, that didn't seem quite right.)

"Well, it's nice to meet ya, Mister Firemane." She gave a kind of amused snicker at his joke.

"The Iron Works, huh?" Wanda pondered, propping her head up with her forearm. "Can't say I've ever been there before. Must be the unbearable man-stench," she quipped mirthfully. Really though, she'd only noticed herself passing it a few times, and she'd definitely never been inside. She might've prodded him with more questions, but he seemed determined to keep the spotlight on her.

"Definitely. I didn't used to get so many customers, but now it feels like ol' Ivis is puttin' me on double shifts or something," she shrugged. "Some kinda torture, if'n you ask me," she stated, leaning in conspiratorially, "But I do hear they're desperate for more masseuses." She winked. "If you ever get tired of the Works, I could teach you a thing or two and get ya a job easy-peasy."


Of course, she had plenty to share about work. But herself? What could she say about herself? Most of the things that came to mind weren't exactly things that seemed fit to share with strangers. Or semi-strangers. She could talk about her parents, but that was a bit of a downer. Magic? Eh, that was quite a touchy subject -- never know how people would react. "Well, I, uh." Her thoughts flicked to a somewhat recent memory. "Well, some number o' days ago, a lovely little lady was kind enough to give me a tip or two on dancing," she cocked an eyebrow. "Besides that, eh. Shopping's a bit of a guilty pleasure."