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He chuckled. "I suppose it won't hurt to make small talk..." Ravenar nodded. "Very well, I'll tell you..." Another thing Ravenar enjoyed was storytelling.

"When I was exiled, I knew I would have to find a place to call home, and quickly. I decided that I would take refuge in this city, and hopefully go unnoticed... well, I didn't, sadly."

He took a deep breath. "As I came into town, I was discovered by children. These children began to toss rocks and such but I shielded myself with my magics. I would not strike at anyone, I would prove that I meant no harm."

"But instead, these children ran off to inform their mothers. Their mothers informed their fathers, these fathers informed one another, and in time an angry mob was after me. I would not run, I would not strike... I will not harm another soul, until I deem it necessary." He said rather determindedly, looking up at Lashantha, his crimson-irised eyes glittering slightly. He valued his pacifism.

"I... Could not hold the field, not while being struck so much. So, I suppose my field retreated to protect my head, and they began to beat whatever was below that. One of them managed to break my knee..." He pointed to the leg that was permanently injured.

"Yolanda... gods bless her soul..." He chuckled. "She saved me, but upon attempting to heal me, she did not check to make sure my leg was ... set properly, and it healed... funny." He moved his leg slightly and his eyes narrowed, the beginnings of a wince. There was a slight grinding noise every time he did so, and every now and then a pop. "I haven't been able to fix it, of course, since it is almost certainly permanent... and I'd rather have the limp than my leg broken once again..." He sighed, finishing his story.

"Sadly I've no tale about facing down an army of orcs with simply my staff, dagger and magic, and walking out with naught but a broken knee, but of course that might have awed you more, wouldn't it?" He chuckled. "Pity I didn't think of that sooner..." He stroked his chin absentmindedly.

"And that was about the time Valbyl here," He motioned to the staff he held in his hand, upright, "Became my walking stick." He chuckled yet again.

Giving only a hint of a smile, Lasha examined the staff a moment before looking at all the various trinkets about the room once again. She had always been a great lover of beautiful things, mostly gems and precious metals. They were in plenty in the Underdark, but she still loved them, both for a jems capability to store magic and just for how pretty they looked in bright light.

"Xunus dos morfeth jal d' nindolen dosstan?" Speaking common english tired her sometimes, it was so brutish and boring. While both drow and elven language flowed and sounded almost like music, which could be bold and angry at times, or soft and elegant.

He seemed to be nervous around her, she wondered why...

Shrugging, Lashantha stood with him before taking the cloth from her belt-pouch once more. Watching him with impassible eyes she waited for him to lead the way.

"I don't really have anything better to do.."

Pulling her braid over her shoulder, the drow settled all her items, pausing only a moment to check that her dagger was still there... She never went anywhere without at least one blade on her.

Following him, she did not even have to stoop to listen, walking full upright as if it was a normal occurance that she walked around blindfolded. Hearing the footsteps and sounds of people around her as they went, she tensed slightly, but upon realising that these people were not going to attack her and throw her out of the city, she relaxed, but did not let her guard down.

Sniffing the air as they entered the dark house, she was able to remove her eye-covering, showing those deep, inky black orbs as they widened in surprise at seeing a Duergar, even more so when the short man commented about marrying..

Though, remembering her manners when Ravenar introduced her, she gave a bow and said in the little she knew of the dark dwarf's language..

"Ravir cu'st shinalle a'. Gowl ni sodel.." It was spoken well, but the drow seemed a bit hesitant about the words. She had learned a little when her patrol had to team up with a few of the underdark dwarves. Roughly it meant. 'Greetings honored grey-one, may your axe be blessed with goblin blood.' It was an old battle greeting, but it had been a long time since she had talked with a Duergar.

"This city continues to surprise me with it's inhabitants.." Lashantha then smiled warmly.

((I have a question for you guys: In this post in another roleplay, I did my best to not "force" this character's grace/beauty of the moment on other players; what do you think?

"Hey," S'rina replied, eyes fluttering open as she brought herself back. She blinked slowly, with an easy smile as she tranquilly regarded the other weyrling; in this place she felt peaceful, relaxed, as unhurried and unworried as the crash in her ears and the breeze on her skin.

Her hand dropped from the tree to hang loosely at her side as she took a few steps forward onto the sand, turning after a moment to look back at J'nul. Her hair was unbound, spread across the tops of her shoulders and tucked behind her ears, her simple shift loose and moving gently with the breeze. Eyes wide and childlike, she focused on J'nul for a few seconds, as if to silently ask whether he planned to join her on the beach.))


The door creaked open to reveal a graying matron, complete with a meat-stained apron over her skirts and a broom that smelled suspiciously of offal. "Greetings, young dragon," she cooed, her eyes crinkling in delight at the sight of him on her doorstep. Face registering his obvious plight, she patted Imo's outstretched head comfortingly. "Why don't you come around back, where there's a bigger door," she suggested in a voice sick with honey.

Imo nodded enthusiastically, scrambling on all fours in the street dirt towards the alleyway alongside the building. One of his outstretched wings knocked the dragon-shaped sign above the door as he passed; it was still swinging creakily long after he had disappeared around the corner. The dragon's stomach was clenching with hunger as he swung to a skidding halt around the second corner; he easily spotted the door the woman had spoke of--it was large enough to fit Imo and two more like him abreast.

His tail twitched impatiently as he waited, his nose sniffing eagerly of the fumes wafting from the butchery. Where had that lovely woman gone? Surely it couldn't take her that long just to walk to the back of the building. His stomach growled again, incessant.

It seemed eons before the huge door slid open to reveal the darkened interior. The little dragon bounded forward as the shopkeeper poked her head around the metal edge; she looked almost bewildered for a moment by his exuberant speed before she shrugged and shouldered the door closed with surprising force. "Young dragon--"

A screech interrupted anything she had been planning to say; the sound activated the low-level lamps spread throughout the warehouse, revealing Imo carelessly treading through piles of putrid intestines as he circled in panic, a string of raw meat hanging from one of his teeth as he snorted minature flames. The moment he'd taken a bite of the now discarded ovine carcass, he'd felt the sudden absence of all ambient magic--and it was scaring him half to death. The abrupt lack of input from one of his major senses left him as lost and disoriented as a deaf-blind human tossed into the center of a seemingly endless desert.

A droning voice infilterated his mind, and he slowed his circling pace to investigate the surreal, slightly swirling world around him. The woman was circling him slowly, an emotionless look of calculation on her face; Imo stepped forward towards her in confusion, only to smack his nose on a barrier invisible to both sight and extra-sense. Reeling backward in pain, he focused on the spindle-limbed female anew.

"Brillant, isn't it?" she commented, her voice softly brushing his ears; all traces of honey were absent as if they had never existed. "The only thing capable of holding a dragon for longer than a few seconds. 'Tis no mere barrier of magic to be broken with sheer power, but a ring completely devoid of the substance and impervious to all of its effects." Her eyes glinted in the low light, and Imo shivered uncontrollably at the sight.

She stepped forward and laid a palm against the stomach-twisting surface, pressing gently. "Not even normal humans can pass through it due the base magic that keeps them alive and moving."

Deghar shrugged, eyeing the gem. It had been one of his rarer acquisitions... but for a friend of Ravenar...

"Well, lassie, for anyone else, it'd be upwards of a thousand gold or so, but for a friend of Ravenar's... I believe I'll charge anything around... two hundred or so..." Deghar stroked his orange beard.

"And of course, I'm willing to bargain, as Ravenar just showed for you..." He looked over her shoulder to the Drow, who stood in the open doorway.

(Blahshort.)

The Duergar chuckled, scooping up the bag of coins. "Alright, I trust ye. Now get movin', Ravenar doesn't really like to wait, much..."

Clouds had begun to gather overhead, and it had gotten dark quickly outside. Dark enough, perhaps for Lasha to walk comfortably, and now, of course, as it always did in this place, it began to rain. "Great..." Ravenar muttered. He did not like the rain. It soaked his robes and hair and made him more uncomfortable. And for some reason, it made his knee hurt even more...

"Oh! And 'fore I forget, Ravenar, Valgard told me that he had enough items to make a sword for ye!" Deghar added, talking rather loudly over to Ravenar.

Ravenar turned to the Dark Dwarf. "And why would he make me a sword? I don't need one. I have my dagger and my staff, it's all I need." He chuckled.

"Ah, but Valgard's funny like that, ye know. Bloody Nord can't help but show off his smithing skills..." Deghar chuckled. "But he did do a nice job on me axe, that's fer sure. And his own sword is real nice, too. But ye need to go see him, alright? Or else the Nord'll kick me around more than he already does." The Dark Dwarf laughed.

Ravenar chuckled. "Very well. Tyrblade'll see me before long, don't worry."

"Ach! He better! Or else I'll be kickin' ye around just like he does me!" The Duergar faked fuming rather well. They laughed again, almost as if Lasha did not exist.

"Coming, Lasha? I'm sure you'll be interested in the various wares that Valgard has. Some of it is quite nice..." Ravenar said, looking down the street, towards Valgard's forge. Valgard was no mage. However, he took items with magical properties and infused their magic into weapons and armor. He was the Mage District armorer, as far as most were concerned. He offered good items at low prices, as most people did.

"Very well..." Ravenar said, then he turned back to his Dark Dwarven friend. "Farewell, Deghar!" Ravenar said, stepping outside and using Valbyl as a walking stick once again, walking down the street, leading them farther away from Yolanda's home, towards Valgard's forges.

As they approached, the sound of a hammer against steel was heard, and the smell of smoke and heated iron filled their lungs and nostrils, and as they got closer, the noise became louder, and the crackling of flame could be heard.

Valgard was under a canopy, hammering away at a oblong piece of red-hot steel, molding it. The smith's long brown hair was tied back for this part of his job, and instead of his usual leather and fur armor that the Nord wore, he had forsaken his shirt, and wore a pair of brown cloth pants and brown leather boots. His chest and back were rippled with muscle, lean muscle that was still powerful and quick. He had a beard upon his chin, not an exceptionally long or short one, and of course, a moustache to match it. His eyes were an icy blue, which hinted at his Nordic descent. He was born there, in fact, but had moved here in search of prosperous business.

Upon thrusting the red-hot rod of steel into a barrel full of water nearby, the smith turned and grinned. "Greetings, friend Ravenar!" The Nord said loudly, as if his hearing had been impaired. Actually, it had only been his right ear that had lost its hearing, somewhat, but that was another story.

"Hello, Valgard. I see you're a bit busy right now." Ravenar said with a nod and a step backwards, as if he were about to leave.

"Please, stay. I need to talk to something other than the snobby mage who thinks my weapons aren't good enough for them!" Valgard laughed. And then he spied Lashantha. "Ravenar! I didn't know you'd find yourself a bride, especially one of your own race!" Valgard expressed his surprise.

"She's not my bride, Valgard." Ravenar emphasized rather heavily.

To behold Valgard's shop was to behold directly his work ethic. Rows upon rows of swords, spears, tridents, and other various bladed weaponry adorned racks in front of his shop. In the upper right hand corner, three rows of three hanging baskets held various gems that were labled with their magical properties, simply for Valgard's ease of mind. On the left hand side, three rows of three baskets also hung, but these gems were simply normal gems that had not been enchanted. Weapons with these in them would be free for mages to enchant how the buyer saw fit. Of course, none of the weapons in the front of the shop were magical. They were of good quality, but not magical.

The magical, special weapons were displayed in the back, beside the corner in which he forged. These had arrays of colored gems in them, some swirling inward with colors, others displaying their iridescent qualities outwardly, as if showing off or bragging. Comissions were kept behind the counter, as they were paid for in advance and held for that person in particular. Suits of armor, only about two or three at a time, were stood up in the opposite corner of his forge, and were of good quality... if one wished to encumber himself. Various pieces of armor were in crates beside these suits. Pauldrons, gauntlets, bracers, boots, greaves, and helms were all held in these crates. Arrows were held in barrels below the bows, which were few in number due to Valgard's lack of expertise with wood and sometimes chitin.

This obviously showed that Valgard was a systematic, well-organized person, having everything so neatly organized. He did not, however, get many compliments from regular mages. Battlemages respected Valgard, but they were few in number. Most people here would be suited to be a court mage, House mage (in the case of being a Drow), or Sage. These people shunned weapons. And of course, Valgard was excited to see a woman that wielded a blade.

"Aye, have you come to take a look at my wares? I've got a wide variety of blades, here, miss." He said to Lasha, leaning towards her, hands on his wooden counter, his brown hair coming untied and falling down around his shoulders.