Ceren, mid sip, chuckled slightly into her tankard. "I value my skin too much to call her foolish." she said after setting the tankard down on the bar. "Too smart for her own good, maybe. But it ain't bit her in the ass yet, so what do I know?" she chuckled again.
At the man's query about her presence at the Withered Oak, she hazarded a glance toward the barkeep. But he seemed to either not hear or not care about the commentary on the ale, so her eyes fell back to the tankard in her hands. The man was likely a mercenary, by the look of him. Not surprising considering their location. Few resources were spared for the regular security of such outlying communities. The people had to fend for themselves, or else hire out when it was truly needed. That was why she was here, after all. But was this man competition? Inwardly, she sighed. How the hell was she supposed to know? Again, she wished one of her fellows was here to riddle these things out so she wouldn't have to. But, competition or not, she couldn't just sit there silently.
She gave a nod, acknowledging the point, then shrugged her shoulders as she sat up a bit straighter. Turning slightly toward the man, she placed an elbow onto the bar. "The same as you, it seems." she said, making a small gesture to their surroundings that was meant to encompass the town as a whole. "Looking for what work might be had. Heard there were raiders hitting refugee caravans coming across the plains. This seemed as good a place as any to sniff out the story on that."
She glanced back at the barkeep again to see if he'd reacted in any way to her words, but he'd moved down to the other end of the bar and was in conversation with another patron. The other customers sprinkled throughout the tables and booths hadn't seemed to be listening either, so she turned her eyes back to the man and gave another shrug.
Then, reaching out her hand to shake, she said "Ceren, from The House of the Salamander."
@Nolan Reid
At the man's query about her presence at the Withered Oak, she hazarded a glance toward the barkeep. But he seemed to either not hear or not care about the commentary on the ale, so her eyes fell back to the tankard in her hands. The man was likely a mercenary, by the look of him. Not surprising considering their location. Few resources were spared for the regular security of such outlying communities. The people had to fend for themselves, or else hire out when it was truly needed. That was why she was here, after all. But was this man competition? Inwardly, she sighed. How the hell was she supposed to know? Again, she wished one of her fellows was here to riddle these things out so she wouldn't have to. But, competition or not, she couldn't just sit there silently.
She gave a nod, acknowledging the point, then shrugged her shoulders as she sat up a bit straighter. Turning slightly toward the man, she placed an elbow onto the bar. "The same as you, it seems." she said, making a small gesture to their surroundings that was meant to encompass the town as a whole. "Looking for what work might be had. Heard there were raiders hitting refugee caravans coming across the plains. This seemed as good a place as any to sniff out the story on that."
She glanced back at the barkeep again to see if he'd reacted in any way to her words, but he'd moved down to the other end of the bar and was in conversation with another patron. The other customers sprinkled throughout the tables and booths hadn't seemed to be listening either, so she turned her eyes back to the man and gave another shrug.
Then, reaching out her hand to shake, she said "Ceren, from The House of the Salamander."
@Nolan Reid
01-09-2025, 04:25 PM
