Vhalens insisted that they stop at Duttersby’s before moving on to the Wild Groobey to change out of his Seanchai’s vestments into more reasonable attire. He’s now dressed in every day clothing, or at least every day for a member of the Muintir. All embroidered deerskin, his clothes still mark him as if not foreign, then at the least rustic. But rustic in a Runian sort of way. He’d seen plenty of Runian village folk dressed more or less like this on the road south. He found it rather interesting that the dress of the Muintir bore so much similarity to the more traditional garb of Runia itself. And good thing too. Folk down here would likely assume he was just a northern fur trader, which was a marked improvement from the barbarian priest they would have seen him as in his vestments.
Once they’ve found a table, Vhalens orders an ale and a meal, finding himself to be ravenous. He’d been so absorbed in his work at the library it hadn’t even occurred to him to stop to eat. He wants to create a plan with Frenevir, but first he wants to be sure they’re not being watched or listened in on. He masks his scoping out the other nearby patrons with simple small talk.
Perception: 21
“So Frenevir, tell me how you became such an accomplished scholar! That was some truly impressive work you did today!”
((I’ll give Frenevir another bardic inspiration. That leaves me with one left for the day.))
Frenevir waits in one garden while waiting for Vhalens to change. When he comes back he finds the elf sort of dancing, making a series of fluid movements but kind of slowly as if he was dancing to a very calm music or remembering the steps of the dance while he turns, spins and opens his arms. Even in that situation, with no music and in the middle of the garden, the dance seems beautiful. Vhalens notices that Frenevir has his eyes closed and when he stops and opens them he seems to be back from a deep trance.
" Oh you're back. Excuse me my friend I hope not to have made you wait too much " he accommodates his clothes and, as he pases his hands over it, they not only get ready but it seems that he takes away any sweat he could have generated and a faint scent of jasmine follows him as he walks towards the street with Vhalens.
Once they are seated at the table he orders some wine and some food too.
" Back in my home I've spent long days studying and learning from the books of the Library of the Stars. We do have there knowledge of many things and one could spent centuries reading and learning of it and feel that he hasn't waste his time. But as for our research, and given the size of the library I guess I just got lucky to look into the appropriate section. Oh thank you" he says to the waitress when their orders come and he gives her a gold coin"Is that enough? " he asks and raises his hand to stop Vhalens to go for his coin purse " Please... allow me..." he says. With that resolved he resumes his conversation.
"Even if we have the Library I must say that much of the knowledge of my people are passed from one another through poems and songs. I find really interesting that your people does a similar way if I have understood it correctly?" he asks taking a sip from the wine.
Vhalens thanks Frenevir graciously, promising to stand the next round of drinks. He listens to Frenevir's story, then replies "You're right, we do. And it is interesting! You know, when I left my people to come south, I was worried I'd become overwhelmed by the many differences between the ways of the Muintir and the ways of southern folk, and certainly there ARE some stark differences. But I've been just as impressed at the many similarities. It seems folk are folk no matter where you go. Business to attend to, people to care for, and histories to remember. I imagine that bit of wisdom is lost in the retelling stories of returning travelers because of its simple mundanity. No one would listen to the strange adventures of Vhalens and his years among the bread bakers and beer brewers of the vast and unknowable south."
The conversation lulls a moment as Vhalens takes in a healthy portion of his meal, all the while keeping a careful eye on their surroundings. After a swig of ale to wash it all down, he continues "It's a comfort to know that even a people who can boast of such an impressive institution as the Library of the Stars still have a place for songs and poems. I've heard of your library, you know. There a couple stories that mention it even all the way up among my people, though I can't imagine much of what I've heard is true. One of the stories claims the entire place is actually the horde of a rather bookish silver dragon. Another said that the shelving system is so complex that it takes a lifetime to master it, so naturally all the librarians are ghosts who died studying and only gained their title after being brought back with a necromantic ritual!"
Vhalens leans back with a casual glance over to the folk playing cards and says "I'm more inclined to believe the bit about the dragon than the ghosts, personally. Who better than a benevolent dragon to protect a vast library? But either of those stories would have had plenty of time to grow wild from whatever kernel of truth they may have sprouted from because as far as I know, none of my people have been that far south in WELL over a century! The Library of the Stars may as well actually BE among the stars so far as we're concerned."
Your food arrives, pleasantly warm and redolent with Runian flavors. Stuffed cabages, black bread, blood sausage (a little strong tasting to Frenevir's more refined palate, but not unpleasant - to Vhalens, a brief and watered-down memory of some similar dishes served among his people), pickled vegetables and a thick, nearly gravy-like creamy stew with less than identifiable, but decidedly pleasant, rich meats subdued in the sauce, are all in plenty, followed by two wide-brimmed mugs of amber-dark ale. The cheerfully well-proportioned dwarf waitress returns five sp to Frenevir after carefully counting out the costs of the meal and beverage. "Let me know if you need anything - someone will be around!"
After about twenty minutes, several of locals rather conspicuously clear out of the area in which you are seated, leaving a table long gap between you and the next seated customers. Within seconds, it becomes apparent why.
Three groups of six soldiers, two human, one dwarf, enter the Groobey in grey uniforms and dull chain mail. At every breast proudly sits a shield-shaped pin, about the size of a palm, with a glossy black sheen interrupted by a single horizontal band of snow-grey. They are armed - very well armed, when compared to the other tavern goers. They quickly settle in all around you, leaving three humans and a dwarf to stand immediately you, eyeing your seats expectantly.
The elf refuses the spare change and says the waitress to keep it.
Frenevir smlies at Vhalens words
"Oh I can picture Great Librarian Yocasta as a ghost... but please do not tell her that I've said that!!"he laughs quietly as finishing his food. Then he notices that the other customers clear the area around them, asking himself why they would do such thing. Then the soldiers came in.
Calmly Frenevir looks around and back to his almost finished plate. Then he looks back to the human that had spoke
"A fine stew, overall a little bit strong of taste for what I am used to, but I would say is a good food. It will serve you well after a long day of duty. Beware of the ale though. That is excellent and one could be easily carried along and take one too many."he says smiling and raising his mug for taking a small sip. "Please tell me, it is your first time in this tavern? I find it curious that a couple of foreigners had to give advise about the quality of the food to members of the guard. Or perhaps you are part of the soldiers that had been called to defend the kingdom?" he asks curious.
Vhalens chuckles despite himself at the boldness of his companion, but sees their significant disadvantage. If a brawl broke out between the two of them and these four soldiers, it wouldn't be long before their fourteen friends joined in as well. He smiles congenially at the men but doesn't speak, waiting to see how they respond to Frenevir.
Instead, Vhalens raises a finger from the table and points it as surreptitiously as he can at Frenevir (casting the message cantrip). Frenevir would hear Vhalens voice in his mind whispering "Remember, we're not supposed to be drawing attention to ourselves." Frenevir would be able to respond in the same manner if he so chose.
( Oh I was about to ask the very same thing in OOC. I think, in the shake of speed things up I would drop the roll anyway. If pertinent we already have it if not, just ignore it ;)
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Vhalens examines the livery of the soldiers, trying to determine whether he knows of them, and can remember some story about the unit’s deeds, or about a famous commander of the unit, not to mention whether this is the same unit from which came the imprisoned soldier that Finn and Argentus are interrogating.
The guard grimaces at Frenevir's words, and a few of the others chuckle darkly.
"You mistake me, honored foreigner. It seems you are a little unused to our customs, being so recently arrived and all, so I'll lay it out for you more polite-like. Yes, we're some of Runia's defenders, but seeing as the only defense Runia needs is against the likes of those who have no business to be here, it is custom for visitors to make way for those in the service of a lord. And," he taps his badge with evident pride, and a little malice, "we happen to be in such a service. So I suggest you move, without wasting any more of our time." He says all this with an edge in his voice, as though he is asking, nearly begging, you for any reason whatsoever for provocation. At least two of them subtly move their hands towards the hilts of various blunt and bladed weapons, and the eyes of the other two groups are riveted on you like avid attendees at a blood-sports match.
Vhalens, his memory far sharper than his academic acumen, immediately recalls seeing at least two groups of such badges earlier in the day, walking around the city. Rough and somewhat pompous, they seemed to be some of the most active of the soldiery in patrolling the streets, albeit largely for the apparent purpose of harassing the common folk. Frenevir also recalls noticing them, though this next section is lodged only in Vhalens's uniquely tuned mind. You recall the muttered cursings of one of the same common folk, shortly after being inspected roughly by the second group, calling them "Blackridge's Bas***s" (I'm sure you get the picture). By inference, it seems that their lord is one and the same.
Frenevir's eyes darts towards the two that had moved their hands towards the weapons. He looks back to Vhalens and remembers the words he just whispered to him. He looks to the one that is speaking to him and says.
"I see..."he slowly stands, not recoiling and ignoring the two at his back. "It's a happy encounter then. We were leaving anyway." he takes a last sip of his jug and leave it at the table. "Shall we my friend?"he says to Vhalens and exits the space between the chair and the table. He stops and looks to the man in the eye.
"Just remember that you are always at the service of your Lord. Your oaths bind you to him and your actions are his own. "
He then takes a couple of steps and looks at the two who were behind him, hands in their weapons. "If you'll excuse me"he says, waiting for those two to step aside so he and Vhalens can walk away.
At Frenevir's last words, Vhalens sighs and picks up his drum case from the ground. That's that then. He doesn't need to hear the soldier's reply to know what happens next.
He momentarily considers using his story-craft to diffuse the situation, making up some grand lie to win the friendship of the bold men of Lord Blackridge so that he and Frenevir could go in peace or maybe even get some information from them. But he remembers the look of fear and detestation in the eyes of the folk in the street. He sees that same fear in the eyes of the other tavern goers now. He has no intention of using the craft of the Seanchai to stroke the egos of common bullies.
Vhalens knows a thing or two about bullies. Just like the miriad parallels he and Frenevir had just been discussing that range the nations of this world, bullies are the same everywhere. And one thing a bully will never grant a would-be victim is the luxury of a dignified exit. The die had been cast as soon as those men had seen them sitting alone when all the rest of the tavern goers had fled. Frenevir's words only hastened the inevitable. No, the two of them have no hope whatsoever of avoiding drawing attention to themselves tonight.
Vhalens is a gentle soul, but he is no coward. At Frenevir's invitation, Vhalens stands. Without a word, he unfastens the latch of his drum case. He slips the beater from its sleeve and points to Frenevir again. Frenevir would hear in his mind the words "No killing please, if you can avoid it. We don't want to ruin our relationship with the Prince on the very first day."
Vhalens beats a short cadence that signals, in the tradition of the Muintir, the beginning of a story of valor and daring deeds...
Two of the guards mutter darkly, and the speaker laughs with a cruel edge. "What do the likes of you know of oaths? We know why you're here! To take advantage of our land and our people! To whisper lies to the king and prince - don't think we haven't heard of the strangers brought into town and taken straight to the palace. How much of our hard-earned gold do you plan to steal before you leave Runia! How many of our brave folk do you plan to betray before the snows thaw!"
The last two statements are clearly made for the benefit of the public, most of whom turn their eyes ashamedly down to their drinks, though a few of the gamblers in the corner narrow their eyes with grimaces of disgust towards the Blackridge soldiers. One of them even unsubtly moves a short sword into view.
"Peace." he states loud enough to be heard but not yelling "The King and the Prince are respected outside Runia enough to have been offered help. They have been wise enough to accept it. We will do our best to support and help the people of Runia to the best of our ability. Do not forget that the King first and foremost called upon his kin and only with their well being in his mind is what he has accepted the offered help. "he calmly puts a hand over the speaker's shoulder "Do not doubt of this. The King or the Prince will never do nothing to put their people in danger. On the contrary. We are honored to stand, fight and even fall at the side of the brave men and women of Runia. " he takes off the hand of the shoulder and reaches for his mug. He raises it. "For Runia! May it endure this dangerous time along side its friends and allies. For Runia!!"
Vhalens echoes the sentiment"For Runia!" impressed at his friend's restraint and diplomatic words. He would have pinned Frenevir for the jump into a fight type, but that was clearly an unfair assumption. It was possible Vhalens was the one jumping to conclusions about the inevitability of violence...
The scattered cry is taken up around the room somewhat, but it is dulled by the tension in the air.
The speaking soldier seems about to say more, but reconsiders, glancing around and no longer reveling in the attention. One of his comrades sits, cementing the move to the table, and with a gruff push the group of soldiers sit and insolently lounge. The tension quickly eases, leaving the two of you standing, and an appreciative waitress nodding to you shortly as she passes with another round of ale for the Blackridge men.
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Vhalens insisted that they stop at Duttersby’s before moving on to the Wild Groobey to change out of his Seanchai’s vestments into more reasonable attire. He’s now dressed in every day clothing, or at least every day for a member of the Muintir. All embroidered deerskin, his clothes still mark him as if not foreign, then at the least rustic. But rustic in a Runian sort of way. He’d seen plenty of Runian village folk dressed more or less like this on the road south. He found it rather interesting that the dress of the Muintir bore so much similarity to the more traditional garb of Runia itself. And good thing too. Folk down here would likely assume he was just a northern fur trader, which was a marked improvement from the barbarian priest they would have seen him as in his vestments.
Once they’ve found a table, Vhalens orders an ale and a meal, finding himself to be ravenous. He’d been so absorbed in his work at the library it hadn’t even occurred to him to stop to eat. He wants to create a plan with Frenevir, but first he wants to be sure they’re not being watched or listened in on. He masks his scoping out the other nearby patrons with simple small talk.
Perception: 21
“So Frenevir, tell me how you became such an accomplished scholar! That was some truly impressive work you did today!”
((I’ll give Frenevir another bardic inspiration. That leaves me with one left for the day.))
Frenevir waits in one garden while waiting for Vhalens to change. When he comes back he finds the elf sort of dancing, making a series of fluid movements but kind of slowly as if he was dancing to a very calm music or remembering the steps of the dance while he turns, spins and opens his arms. Even in that situation, with no music and in the middle of the garden, the dance seems beautiful. Vhalens notices that Frenevir has his eyes closed and when he stops and opens them he seems to be back from a deep trance.
" Oh you're back. Excuse me my friend I hope not to have made you wait too much " he accommodates his clothes and, as he pases his hands over it, they not only get ready but it seems that he takes away any sweat he could have generated and a faint scent of jasmine follows him as he walks towards the street with Vhalens.
Once they are seated at the table he orders some wine and some food too.
" Back in my home I've spent long days studying and learning from the books of the Library of the Stars. We do have there knowledge of many things and one could spent centuries reading and learning of it and feel that he hasn't waste his time. But as for our research, and given the size of the library I guess I just got lucky to look into the appropriate section. Oh thank you" he says to the waitress when their orders come and he gives her a gold coin "Is that enough? " he asks and raises his hand to stop Vhalens to go for his coin purse " Please... allow me..." he says. With that resolved he resumes his conversation.
"Even if we have the Library I must say that much of the knowledge of my people are passed from one another through poems and songs. I find really interesting that your people does a similar way if I have understood it correctly?" he asks taking a sip from the wine.
PbP Character: A few ;)
Vhalens thanks Frenevir graciously, promising to stand the next round of drinks. He listens to Frenevir's story, then replies "You're right, we do. And it is interesting! You know, when I left my people to come south, I was worried I'd become overwhelmed by the many differences between the ways of the Muintir and the ways of southern folk, and certainly there ARE some stark differences. But I've been just as impressed at the many similarities. It seems folk are folk no matter where you go. Business to attend to, people to care for, and histories to remember. I imagine that bit of wisdom is lost in the retelling stories of returning travelers because of its simple mundanity. No one would listen to the strange adventures of Vhalens and his years among the bread bakers and beer brewers of the vast and unknowable south."
The conversation lulls a moment as Vhalens takes in a healthy portion of his meal, all the while keeping a careful eye on their surroundings. After a swig of ale to wash it all down, he continues "It's a comfort to know that even a people who can boast of such an impressive institution as the Library of the Stars still have a place for songs and poems. I've heard of your library, you know. There a couple stories that mention it even all the way up among my people, though I can't imagine much of what I've heard is true. One of the stories claims the entire place is actually the horde of a rather bookish silver dragon. Another said that the shelving system is so complex that it takes a lifetime to master it, so naturally all the librarians are ghosts who died studying and only gained their title after being brought back with a necromantic ritual!"
Vhalens leans back with a casual glance over to the folk playing cards and says "I'm more inclined to believe the bit about the dragon than the ghosts, personally. Who better than a benevolent dragon to protect a vast library? But either of those stories would have had plenty of time to grow wild from whatever kernel of truth they may have sprouted from because as far as I know, none of my people have been that far south in WELL over a century! The Library of the Stars may as well actually BE among the stars so far as we're concerned."
Your food arrives, pleasantly warm and redolent with Runian flavors. Stuffed cabages, black bread, blood sausage (a little strong tasting to Frenevir's more refined palate, but not unpleasant - to Vhalens, a brief and watered-down memory of some similar dishes served among his people), pickled vegetables and a thick, nearly gravy-like creamy stew with less than identifiable, but decidedly pleasant, rich meats subdued in the sauce, are all in plenty, followed by two wide-brimmed mugs of amber-dark ale. The cheerfully well-proportioned dwarf waitress returns five sp to Frenevir after carefully counting out the costs of the meal and beverage. "Let me know if you need anything - someone will be around!"
After about twenty minutes, several of locals rather conspicuously clear out of the area in which you are seated, leaving a table long gap between you and the next seated customers. Within seconds, it becomes apparent why.
Three groups of six soldiers, two human, one dwarf, enter the Groobey in grey uniforms and dull chain mail. At every breast proudly sits a shield-shaped pin, about the size of a palm, with a glossy black sheen interrupted by a single horizontal band of snow-grey. They are armed - very well armed, when compared to the other tavern goers. They quickly settle in all around you, leaving three humans and a dwarf to stand immediately you, eyeing your seats expectantly.
"Well?" one of the humans finally asks.
The elf refuses the spare change and says the waitress to keep it.
Frenevir smlies at Vhalens words
"Oh I can picture Great Librarian Yocasta as a ghost... but please do not tell her that I've said that!!" he laughs quietly as finishing his food. Then he notices that the other customers clear the area around them, asking himself why they would do such thing. Then the soldiers came in.
Calmly Frenevir looks around and back to his almost finished plate. Then he looks back to the human that had spoke
"A fine stew, overall a little bit strong of taste for what I am used to, but I would say is a good food. It will serve you well after a long day of duty. Beware of the ale though. That is excellent and one could be easily carried along and take one too many." he says smiling and raising his mug for taking a small sip. "Please tell me, it is your first time in this tavern? I find it curious that a couple of foreigners had to give advise about the quality of the food to members of the guard. Or perhaps you are part of the soldiers that had been called to defend the kingdom?" he asks curious.
PbP Character: A few ;)
Vhalens chuckles despite himself at the boldness of his companion, but sees their significant disadvantage. If a brawl broke out between the two of them and these four soldiers, it wouldn't be long before their fourteen friends joined in as well. He smiles congenially at the men but doesn't speak, waiting to see how they respond to Frenevir.
Instead, Vhalens raises a finger from the table and points it as surreptitiously as he can at Frenevir (casting the message cantrip). Frenevir would hear Vhalens voice in his mind whispering "Remember, we're not supposed to be drawing attention to ourselves." Frenevir would be able to respond in the same manner if he so chose.
Frenevir looks back at Vhalens and simply whispers "It's ok"
PbP Character: A few ;)
(Do we recognize the black and gray coat of arms? I can make a history check if you like.)
( Oh I was about to ask the very same thing in OOC. I think, in the shake of speed things up I would drop the roll anyway. If pertinent we already have it if not, just ignore it ;)
History: 17 )
PbP Character: A few ;)
Vhalens examines the livery of the soldiers, trying to determine whether he knows of them, and can remember some story about the unit’s deeds, or about a famous commander of the unit, not to mention whether this is the same unit from which came the imprisoned soldier that Finn and Argentus are interrogating.
History: 13
(We are nailing it! Scholar team high five!)
PbP Character: A few ;)
The guard grimaces at Frenevir's words, and a few of the others chuckle darkly.
"You mistake me, honored foreigner. It seems you are a little unused to our customs, being so recently arrived and all, so I'll lay it out for you more polite-like. Yes, we're some of Runia's defenders, but seeing as the only defense Runia needs is against the likes of those who have no business to be here, it is custom for visitors to make way for those in the service of a lord. And," he taps his badge with evident pride, and a little malice, "we happen to be in such a service. So I suggest you move, without wasting any more of our time." He says all this with an edge in his voice, as though he is asking, nearly begging, you for any reason whatsoever for provocation. At least two of them subtly move their hands towards the hilts of various blunt and bladed weapons, and the eyes of the other two groups are riveted on you like avid attendees at a blood-sports match.
Vhalens, his memory far sharper than his academic acumen, immediately recalls seeing at least two groups of such badges earlier in the day, walking around the city. Rough and somewhat pompous, they seemed to be some of the most active of the soldiery in patrolling the streets, albeit largely for the apparent purpose of harassing the common folk. Frenevir also recalls noticing them, though this next section is lodged only in Vhalens's uniquely tuned mind. You recall the muttered cursings of one of the same common folk, shortly after being inspected roughly by the second group, calling them "Blackridge's Bas***s" (I'm sure you get the picture). By inference, it seems that their lord is one and the same.
Frenevir's eyes darts towards the two that had moved their hands towards the weapons. He looks back to Vhalens and remembers the words he just whispered to him. He looks to the one that is speaking to him and says.
"I see..." he slowly stands, not recoiling and ignoring the two at his back. "It's a happy encounter then. We were leaving anyway." he takes a last sip of his jug and leave it at the table. "Shall we my friend?" he says to Vhalens and exits the space between the chair and the table. He stops and looks to the man in the eye.
"Just remember that you are always at the service of your Lord. Your oaths bind you to him and your actions are his own. "
He then takes a couple of steps and looks at the two who were behind him, hands in their weapons. "If you'll excuse me" he says, waiting for those two to step aside so he and Vhalens can walk away.
PbP Character: A few ;)
At Frenevir's last words, Vhalens sighs and picks up his drum case from the ground. That's that then. He doesn't need to hear the soldier's reply to know what happens next.
He momentarily considers using his story-craft to diffuse the situation, making up some grand lie to win the friendship of the bold men of Lord Blackridge so that he and Frenevir could go in peace or maybe even get some information from them. But he remembers the look of fear and detestation in the eyes of the folk in the street. He sees that same fear in the eyes of the other tavern goers now. He has no intention of using the craft of the Seanchai to stroke the egos of common bullies.
Vhalens knows a thing or two about bullies. Just like the miriad parallels he and Frenevir had just been discussing that range the nations of this world, bullies are the same everywhere. And one thing a bully will never grant a would-be victim is the luxury of a dignified exit. The die had been cast as soon as those men had seen them sitting alone when all the rest of the tavern goers had fled. Frenevir's words only hastened the inevitable. No, the two of them have no hope whatsoever of avoiding drawing attention to themselves tonight.
Vhalens is a gentle soul, but he is no coward. At Frenevir's invitation, Vhalens stands. Without a word, he unfastens the latch of his drum case. He slips the beater from its sleeve and points to Frenevir again. Frenevir would hear in his mind the words "No killing please, if you can avoid it. We don't want to ruin our relationship with the Prince on the very first day."
Vhalens beats a short cadence that signals, in the tradition of the Muintir, the beginning of a story of valor and daring deeds...
Two of the guards mutter darkly, and the speaker laughs with a cruel edge. "What do the likes of you know of oaths? We know why you're here! To take advantage of our land and our people! To whisper lies to the king and prince - don't think we haven't heard of the strangers brought into town and taken straight to the palace. How much of our hard-earned gold do you plan to steal before you leave Runia! How many of our brave folk do you plan to betray before the snows thaw!"
The last two statements are clearly made for the benefit of the public, most of whom turn their eyes ashamedly down to their drinks, though a few of the gamblers in the corner narrow their eyes with grimaces of disgust towards the Blackridge soldiers. One of them even unsubtly moves a short sword into view.
(Retracted.)
Frenevir looks to the speaker.
"Peace." he states loud enough to be heard but not yelling "The King and the Prince are respected outside Runia enough to have been offered help. They have been wise enough to accept it. We will do our best to support and help the people of Runia to the best of our ability. Do not forget that the King first and foremost called upon his kin and only with their well being in his mind is what he has accepted the offered help. " he calmly puts a hand over the speaker's shoulder "Do not doubt of this. The King or the Prince will never do nothing to put their people in danger. On the contrary. We are honored to stand, fight and even fall at the side of the brave men and women of Runia. " he takes off the hand of the shoulder and reaches for his mug. He raises it. "For Runia! May it endure this dangerous time along side its friends and allies. For Runia!!"
PbP Character: A few ;)
(Uh oh. Bad post timing. We just completely contradicted each other XD.)
Vhalens echoes the sentiment "For Runia!" impressed at his friend's restraint and diplomatic words. He would have pinned Frenevir for the jump into a fight type, but that was clearly an unfair assumption. It was possible Vhalens was the one jumping to conclusions about the inevitability of violence...
The scattered cry is taken up around the room somewhat, but it is dulled by the tension in the air.
The speaking soldier seems about to say more, but reconsiders, glancing around and no longer reveling in the attention. One of his comrades sits, cementing the move to the table, and with a gruff push the group of soldiers sit and insolently lounge. The tension quickly eases, leaving the two of you standing, and an appreciative waitress nodding to you shortly as she passes with another round of ale for the Blackridge men.