Reba and Karove

[Viridis]

A free-spirited purple raccoon lady meets an eccentric, swashbuckling figure at the Wyrmfang Inn. This takes place maybe a year or so before Reba meets Jin.

[Viridis]

Wyrmfang Inn - Tavern
Wreathes of smoke dance about and over the heads of patrons, filling this already dim torch-lit room with a tenebrous haze. Odors of tobacco and various other pipeweed join smells of food as they waft in from the kitchen, the ever-present copious amounts of alcohol being consumed at any given time, and woodsmoke from the hearth. Music, laughter, and voices of all ranges oscillate in volume, accompanied by a constant clanking and clacking of dishes being used and the crackle of the fire.
Heavy, sturdily-built tables and chairs are arranged around the center of the room, and stools are lined along the bar at the back of the room, behind which is a door leading to the kitchen. To the left of the tavern's entrance is a narrow staircase leading to the upper level.
The occupants here, at any given time, are likely to give the impression of a less-than-wholesome crowd -- shadowy hooded figures and leery stares are in no shortage here.

[ Obvious Exits: Go <Upstairs>, <Out> of the Inn, Into the <Kitchen> ]
[ Players: Karove ]
[ Sleepers: Dregalius ]

There are centralized tables at the Wyrmfang, but the tables in the corners are perhaps more popular. This place has a way of attracting the kind of people who like to fade in, to observe, to gather their wits. There are hoods and cloaks everywhere, cowls pulled low, steely expressions, steaming cups of java obscuring faces. And then there are people like Reba. This cheerful 5'8" anthropomorphic raccoon is clutching a cup full of dice at the gambling table to the left of the staircase, leaning over in front of her companions, and saying something sing-songishly. Her clothes are simple and disheveled, but she looks rather attractive, with her fur long and, as always, entirely purple, tonight on the bluish side of her spectrum. The bartender knows her well as a regular, and is watching appreciatively.

Noise. Such a caucophony of noise. So many sounds, so many voices. So many shouts, and so many jeers. So much sound. It is... discomforting, overall. But a necessary discomfort in such a world where eyes are far too straying and ears are perked all too often. In a place such as which a face is not easily forgotten, even while it is easy to slip by. And so, such a place as an a... boisterous... inn is always the perfect place to become accustomed to something new. One pair of shimmering sapphire jewels stare out from beneath a hood draped tenderly around a pair of long, alert ears. Staring out silently, shimmering gently with every passing ray of light glanced out from a flickering torch or a flash of metal. Staring out towards the crowd, and staring out towards a tattered piece of parchment with several scratches of ink spread across its surface. And soon, those spotches of ink gain acquaintances, as the end of a quill touches down once more to line against the fabric, drawn with a certain tenderness from the silver-furred paw that clutches the tapered feather.

The cup falls at last, the chant made up to bless it turning it to be ineffectual, and Reba loses her money. There are groans and consoling shouts from the people around the table, mostly ordinary, if somewhat motley, human beings. She remains at the table for another few turns of the game in progress, and then her eyes wander, as they often do when Reba is energetic and not terribly involved in her activities. She moseys over to an acquaintance at a nearby table who turns out to be busy snogging someone, and, egging her on with a whisper, circulates until she discovers Karove's table. The raccoon girl hesitates, then stoops to peek at the face under the hood, and her expression brightens when she finds something unusual. "Ooh!" she mouths. "Hi there. Writing a novel?" she cheerfully greets the stranger.

The scratches ebbing out from the tapered quill against the parchment comes to an abrupt end the moment the hyena's attention is disrupted, and his icy gaze snaps up from the table to his newest object of his attention. The charcoal nostrils at the tip of the creature's muzzle instantly curl as he brings a whiff of air straight into his nose, his eyes gradually falling up the bright creature's form, before resting upon her own orbs and staring for quite an awkwardly long moment. Perhaps she'll just turn around and leave. When it becomes quite apparent that this is not so, the hyena's shoulders simply give the abaya draped across them a gentle shift. "No. Novels are the work of charlatans and harlots," the creature's voice flows out in response. A strange, crystalline quality strains straight through the center of the voice, even as the deep, dark timbre fails to vibrate from its ever pleasant pitch. The hyena's free hand curls his fingers slowly around the handle of his steaming cup, sliding back and forth against the piece of tableware as he awaits his new 'friend's' response. Or, preferably, departure.

Reba looks disappointed; her face twitches and one of her nearly rounded ears sags a bit. "Really? That's too bad." She watches the reactions of the people sitting closest by before flicking her attention back. "I like novels now and then. I admit I'm not a big reader, though. What are you writing, then?" Her hands settle on the edge of the table, but she doesn't dare lean forward.

Karove's eyes remain clasped on the raccoon as she leans down atop the wodden table, and the creaking sounds that soon erupt give his rounded ears their own set of twitches. His muzzle tilts upwards, the hood atop his head shifting slightly to reveal a bit more of strange cladding of silver fur that covers his body. "That is nothing you need concern yourself with," the hyena's voice seeps out once again, this time dipping a bit lower as he pushes his head forward. A stray line of fur from his mane slides out from beneath his hood, and the odd bit of blue glimmer idly in each random relay of light as he pushes a smile across his muzzle. "You should read more, then, raccoon. And something more substantial than a novel," the creature offers as his quill finally lifts once more, only to set back down in the inkpot a short distance away.

Reba finds herself intrigued and yet simultaneously frightened by the subtle symphony of lights and sounds that seem to comprise talking with this stranger. She glances at the inkpot and tries to read a little of the parchment, upside-down. She withdraws her hands, however, feeling put off. "Like what? Histories?" she asks.

"Yes. Histories are fine," the hyena's voice flows out once more, growing softer as her hands finally retreat back from the table. "Histories. Treatises. Classics," Karove lists as he takes another short whiff of the air. "But I think this conversation has gone long enough without proper reimbursement. Perhaps you would be so kind as to buy me a drink?" the hyena's smile stretches ever further across his muzzle with those worlds, the end of his muzzle dipping down once as though to reiterate his point. "For otherwise, I think it be best for me to return to my activity."

Reba looks downright dismayed. The fur covering her head is splayed over her brow now, and the parts of darker purple framing her eyes have grown messy. She feels around briefly in her fanny pack and gives her head a little shake. "I'm losing all my money tonight," she says mournfully. "Can't afford to buy you a drink. Mr. Stuck-Up." She takes a couple steps back and then turns back to the table. "Oh hey! Hey turn's coming up. Enjoy your...your substantial jazz!" Her tail tenders a wave.

The hyena's jeweled eyes follow the purple raccoon quite intently as she proceeds to fumble about in her little pack, and can't help but stare at the fabric for a long moment before glancing back up the mammal again as she retreats. "Hold," he says as his right paw suddenly lifts up and holds out into the air. "Now, no sense departing like that, Miss Bubbly," the hyena says calmly as his left paw continues to stroke along the handle of that steaming cup of liquid. "You are in... financial difficulties?" he asks quietly as he tilts his eyes back up from her little pack to her head once more, awaiting for it to swivel about once more so that he can get another glance at those eyes.

Reba turns around smoothly enough, without apparently hesitation. Her eyes, indeed, are indigo, with mulberry pupils and whites of wisteria. "Um, yes?" She seems a little suspicious now, but it's not as if she isn't surrounded by friends. That's the advantage of frequenting a place, even a shady place like this one. "What, are you gonna offer to buy something from me?"

Karove simply lets his sapphire eyes flash idly in the light of the tavern, staring into those indigo eyes for a long moment before then glancing to the side to look around the room slowly. "No," the hyena says quietly. "I wish to ask you a favor. And in return, I will compensate you," the hyena says smoothly as his left paw finally slips off from the handle of his cup and into a small pouch dangling upon his belt. The sound of glass clinking against itself followed by the light rustling of metal is soon finished by the hyena pulling the paw back into the air, revealing a small section of a gleaming, circular object of silver. "You seem comfortable here. You also seem... different. And as such, I ask that you... keep an ear out. If anyone mentioned me, or even makes an idle note of me, I wish to know. You do this, I will give you one of these at each meeting." The hyena then places the coin down onto the table and pushes it out towards her. "Consider this an offer of good faith on my part."

Reba glances skittishly down and up several times, and her ears perk to the humans at the next table, who seem to be watching. She chews her lower lip and reaches out for the coin. "I do come here a lot," she says in a lower voice, betraying a certain thoughtfulness beneath her playful veneer. "I'll start by mentioning that *I've* made note of you. I think one of the guys at the taqble, that big guy with the orange hair, said something about you earlier. Not that he has any more idea who you are than I do." Her voice falls even further. "You on the run from someone?"

Karove's muzzle betrays a tiny little smile over his muzzle as his eyes remain focused quite firmly onto her own orbs as she speaks. Good. "I know that you have. And I know that you understand that while appearances can betray much, there is often far more beyond a simple facade," the hyena says simply as he glances his eyes over to the table and to the... orange-haired fellow. "No. I simply desire to know when attention is scattered my way," he says as he then proceeds to push himself up from the table, grabbing the quill with his left paw and tucking it away into the alloted slot on his belt. He then does the same with the small inkpot, and the sound of glass against glass clinks once more as he tilts his head down towards the raccoon as he sniffs at the air once more. "I am now headed outside. You may join me if you wish, raccoon. Otherwise, I will see you when I next return," he says as he sweeps into the crowd and towards the door.

Reba backs away as the hyena creature gets up, and smiles uneasily, and raises her hand, closing the dark fingers in a kind of feeble goodbye. Her other hand fingers the coin, and as she watches him go, half of her is deciding whether to reserve this coin or gamble it, and the other half is wondering just why the fellow is so paranoid. She's happy for the source of income, though. And it's true what he said about facades...anyhow, once he's made his way past her, she goes back to the table to take her turn in the game. No time to go outside yet. Maybe later.

Paranoia is sorely overrated. The hyena slips out from amidst the clouds of bodies and slinks out into the door, letting it close silently behind him as he pushes back into the outsides once more. Much, much better. Thankfully, in the time he spent in the caucous tavern, night has come. And nighttime has always been of particularly favor to the hyena.


Wyrmfang Inn
Here on the southwestern bank of the Cerastes stands an old inn, somewhat dilapidated but still quite clearly in regular use. There is no welcoming gleam in the dingy blackened windows, just a muted flicker of torchlight, barely visible. The dull gray wood and cracked bricks along with the near-constant clamor coming from within reveal this to be a far cry from some high class hotel; and lo, is that a splatter of blood on the side of the old cobblestone path? No, no royalty in their right mind would dare step foot into an establishment such as this without a very good disguise.
Wide stone steps, slightly sunken and crooked by the settling of the old building, lead up to a heavy wooden door with a latched handle of tarnished brass. Above the door a weathered sign hangs from a pair of rusted chains, often swaying haphazardly in the wind. Though they are worn, the scrawled letters that spell the words 'Wyrmfang Inn' can just be made out, along with an equally worn depiction of a black serpent coiled protectively around a skeleton key.
To the west, an area of dark forest looms, from which all manner of wild sounds can be heard -- screaming birds, chattering squirrels, and sometimes more disquieting noises. From the north the river flows, winding its way east around the inn for a short distance before its course turns southward again. Between the inn and the river the ground is bare of trees, and from the ferry to the east a road can be seen stretching off into the woods to the southwest.

[ Obvious Exits: <West>, <East>, <South>, <North>, <Southwest>, <Southeast> ]
[ <Northwest>, <Northeast> ]
[ Other Exits: <Enter> the Inn ]
[ Sleepers: Asrohc ]


Half an hour later, and after three more rounds of gambling, Reba appears at the door looking a little spooked, but pretty much in good spirits. She's straightening her fur with her hand, moistened with a drink she's got in a glass mug. Her tunic is fastened up, as the evening is cool. She's wearing leather shorts today, rather than the blue split skirt she's known for. She glances about with a hint of her own paranoia.

[Viridis]

Despite the length of time, it seems that the hyena has not made it particularly far. Instead, the hyena stands a short distance away, his sapphire eyes perked straight up into the starred night sky as he stands near the road. Too early to sleep, to late to do business. And so, instead, the mammal simply stares up, his ears folded back against his head to shelter themselves from the din rolling out perpetually from the inn only a short ways off.

Reba looks around, stepping out and away from the inn and its bustle. The din lessens as the door closes behind her. She spots the hyena after a short period and walks toward him with an erratic little bounce in her step. There is a waxing crescent moon in the sky, and bats are beginning to wing their way past now and then. She says nothing.

"Somehow, I knew that you would happen upon me again," the hyena says simply as his rounded ears give a twitch from beneath his hood, his eyes never straying from their distant targets even as he readjusts beneath his winter cloak atop his flowing abaya. Besides that, however, Karove remains in perfect silent, his nostrils taking ever continuous little sniffs of the air as he eyes each twinkling star.

Reba shrugs as she walks. In a voice not loud enough to carry back to anyone listening near the inn, she scoffs, "No surprise there...you kind of told me you'd be out here. And it's not like I could just up and disappear." Her ears flick. No hat or hood for Reba, at least not at the tail end of winter such as this is. "So what's up?"

Karove's muzzle falls slightly as his rounded ears push back up into the air once more, pulling the hood back slightly with their rising. His head turns gradually and his icy gaze takes another glance of the mauve-tinged creature. At her question, however, he simply dips into a prolonged silence as he ponders the question over in his mind. "What's up? I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about," the hyena's voice gradually turns droll by the time his voice fades away, and his right ear gives another small twitch. "But that is an aside," he says as he suddenly swivels around straight on his paws, and his gaze stares down at the small creature fiercely. "Tell me, what are you, really?"

Reba is only mauve in her brightest moments. Now, confronted suddenly in the moonlight, cold, and disheartened from losing most of her money, her fur is a dark purple, the bristles stiff. She stops short with a little bounce, her feet lined up, and her tail flips up for a second behind her before sailing down. "What's up means, what's on your mind," she explains with narrowed eyes. Her fingers flip up toward the starry sky for a moment, but there's no point in the gesture. "What do you mean, what am I really? My name's Reba. I'm a purple raccoon, what do I look like?" Her eyes narrow even further. "What are *you*?"

The hyena falls silent for another long moment as he gives his nostrils another fierce bit of a wrinkle. His eyes glance over her once more for a long moment before he suddenly slips up his right arm and latches onto the hilt of the sword sticking out from the scabbard concealed beneath the cloak. He slides it out deftly, the long slide of metal against leather shivering against the cool night air as he immediately swings it out and points the tip of the blade straight down towards the raccoon, all in a single movement of his arm. "You approach a complete stranger in a dangerous bar, you gamble with lowlifes and thugs, you seek to manipulate those who show weakness. And, most of all..." the hyena's eyes drop down to the pack hanging from your waist before popping back up towards your eyes once more. "You carry a strange parcel of a material not seen in such an environment. Not traits commonly found in raccoons," the hyena says calmly as he continues to point the blade straight towards you. "One does not survive by being stupid. Now, what are you, really?"

Reba gapes in a somewhat unexpected huge, uneasy smile. Her tight muzzle suggests that she isn't enjoying this, though. She remains frozen for a few seconds, her heels off the ground, and her smile turns to a look of confusion and disgust. "If working for you is going to be like this, I don't think I'd rather do it," she says at last. "I'm not going to harm you in any way. I do have friends in there, though, even if they are thugs, and they'll be spitting mad if you do anything to me with that sword. May I go now?"

Karove's cold eyes remain set down onto the creature as she stutters out those words, and he proceeds to slide the sword back into its sheath once more, sniffing at the air once, quickly, before letting the folds of his cloak slide back across him once more. "I am disappointed. But, quite frankly, I am quite used to it by now. You may go if you wish, but if you wish to stay, I certainly will not keep you, you strangely coloured creature," the hyena muses as he looks back up into the sky once more, his paws draping down behind him as he turns away from her. "Otherwise, I would appreciate any information you can give me," Karove says as his paw disappears once more into the folds of his clothes and returns with another small piece of metal. This one, however, shows a light shine of yellow with an errant ray of light from the moon above.

Reba, like any raccoon is in fact interested in accruing wealth, especially of the shiny metal kind. She is worried for her safety, though, so she backs away a few steps. A glance over her shoulder betrays that no one is nearby--perhaps a disappointment. "I'll tell you one thing," she says. "Carrying around stuff from place to place is *totally* a trait found in raccoons. I'll tell you something else--the Wyrmfang is dangerous, but I'm used to it, and the danger isn't so great over time. You're doing a nice job making me all nervous again, though. As for manipulating people with weakness...I don't really know what you mean." She frowns and backs off a few more steps, her hand in her pack.

"I won't harm you," the hyena says simply as he drops his gaze from the stars once more before turning back to look at her with a sharp glance. "I can quite ensure you that. For one, you are far too interesting. For another... I rather despise the act of letting blood," Karove says with a twitch of one of his rounded ears. "It is a necessary evil sometimes, but I certainly would never do it unnecessarily. So far, however, you have given me nothing I didn't already know," the hyena brings up the yellow-tinted piece of metal and holds it up in front of his face. "Give me a good reason for me to give this to you, and I shall."

And Reba continues to frown. "I don't know...I feel like I haven't really got any information worth buying a chunk of cash like that, unless you're planning on taking a vacation sometime soon." She takes a cautious step back, although she's still left several yards away from the cloaked figure. The idea that she's too interesting to hurt does make her bolder, though. "I'm guessing you came from another dimension, to be talking about materials 'not in this environment'," she guesses. "Me too. I came here about a year ago, I've been hanging out around here because of the 'shrooms. But I really am what I seem to be...what else do you even want to know?" Her shoulder muscles move tentatively...and she's holding something in her left fist now.

Karove's eyes glance over the raccoon once more as he swivels around, his dark cloak flowing back into the deep night as he lifts his head up into the air. "I'm not surprised. It will suffice to say that I am simply a wanderer," the hyena says as he tilts his head to the side slightly, glancing down to her left hand swiftly before looking back up into her face. "I hope that you will pardon my somewhat bold actions earlier then, Miss Raccoon," the hyena says as his muscles relax, and he dips his head down into a polite bow, his arm crossing over his chest as he dips his head down close to her own. Needless to say, however, he takes the opportunity to whiff the air by her as he does so. "You see, I appreciate honesty. I keep secrets, but I desire to know the Truth, and only the Truth. Your extra-dimensiality is perfectly safe with me."

Reba smirks, and then scoffs with a light expulsion of air. "It's no secret!" she exclaims. "Everyone around here knows I'm from elsewhere. There *are* no two-legged raccoons native to this world, and probably not any of whatever you are, either...although I think there are werewolves out there." She points southwesterly. "Anyhow...um...you have a name? You don't gotta tell me where you're from...but is there anything you wanted to know worth giving me that coin for? Y...You want to learn some magic, maybe? Book a nice cruise on a cruise line? Want to know how to make a nice baby?" She's a little overeager for the coin, since the silver one that he gave her is the only money she held back tonight, and shelost the rest. Plus, she's a little drunk.

Karove can't help but grin slightly as the raccoon expresses herself, and tilts his head to the side as he looks her over once more. "I see, then. As for my name, well... you may call me simply Karove," the hyena says with another tip of his head as he idly tilts the golden coin back and forth along his fingers, pondering for a long moment. As she speaks, however, one particular word she says pulls a fierce, sudden grimace across his muzzle, and he brings the coin back into his palm. "Magic. Simply the tools of tricksters, harlots, and daemons, raccoon. You should know better, you being what you are," Karove says with another firm wrinkle of his nostrils. "You will do good to never mention such a thing in front of me again," he says with the lightest of snorts before giving quite a clear shudder across his spine. "As for the coin, well... consider it a future prospect of reward," he says as he slips it back into his coinpurse once more. "Unless, of course, you can think of anything you could do to earn it. But you must be quick, I will be returning to my room immediately otherwise."

Reba is offended at this second show of scorn, again implying that Reba is a harlot. But that's not what bothers her most, for she has her own word that strikes a nerve--'daemons'. She shivers and steps back again. "You're kinda hateful," she remarks, a tinge of hatefulness in her own voice. "Okay, well...screw you, I guess. I'm in room eight. I'm gonna lock it tonight, though. Bye." She's now brave enough to turn her back, and heads for the inn again.

"Very well. I shall see you again," Karove says with a dip of his head towards the raccoon as she turns away and makes her way back to the inn once more. "Though, I regret that I seem to have... irked... you in some way," the hyena says smoothly before stepping forward towards the inn as well. "It is time for me to retire to my room as well.

The raccoon girl glances back over her shoulder once as she heads for the door, and there's a flash of a wide-mouthed smile amid the perplexity. She flicks her tail left and right before going inside. "Some kind of wolverine or something, I guess," she mutters to herself as she passes through the door, back into the fairly raucous main room.

Karove waits for a polite moment outside the inn before entering through the door as well, staggering the time after the raccoon has entered before slinking his way through the rowdy main room and up the slender staircase to the rooms above. The hyena's blue eyes scan the room once more before returning to his intended destination, and sliding up the stairs silently as he takes note of several of the inn's patrons once more.

Reba notices Karove as he goes upstairs, and she notes it with a grimace, but doesn't mention him to anyone. He obviously is a guy who values his secrets, after all. She's left wondering what he meant, suggesting that she manipulates the weak. Pah! When does she do that?

The hyena slinks back up to the second floor, slipping into a room on the side of the hallway and closing the door quickly behind him, making sure that it shuts with only the noise due such a dinnic atmosphere as the tavern. Strange little raccoon, to say the least. But, to find such things as her is the reason for his travelling.