The re-encounter [D1, Night, Open]

Syreskala walks into the pub, tired after his first day in the city. He looks around, subconsciusly looking for his old companions. He then sits at a table and says nothing, wating for the time to pass by. His weapons are set on it, and his backpack lies on the floor.

Giorg is sitting at a table not far from the door. His food has just arrived. Some bread, potatoes, and some cheese. There is some meat on a skewer, too. Contrary to the typical dwarven stereotype, he does not seem to have any alcohol to go with his meal. There is, however, a pot of tea.

He takes note of the dragonborn. He waves to try and get his attention, as he's currently eating a block of cheese and speaking would be difficult.

"Come and join us, good friend," Sigismund smiles, also waving over the Dragonborn. "You've come at just the right time it would seem. How did you find the city?"

"Oh. Hello, friends!"
Syreskala seems happy, and almost hits his own face for not having noticed the poor dwarf.

"Lemme sit there. My day was... fruitful. I got to the city watch and things happened. Many things. But you, go first! How were your days? I'm eager to know."

The dragonborn is sitting, now with his gear on the floor next to him, and the chair is inverted. He seems VERY interested in their stories.

Giorg finishes the block of cheese first.

"Mostly wandered around the market. Tried looking for work as a bard that wouldn't need me to spend the rest of my life here. Met a merchant who didn't seem to like traveling much, which seems odd now that I think about it," he answers. "And then had a bath. Ran into him while there."

He takes a moment and thinks things over. "Surprisingly quiet day, all things considered. Food is good, though."

"Aye. I ran into an old comrade earlier," Sigismund nods somberly. "Unfortunately I learned some terrible news. It would seem there exists quite a bit of tension between our two kingdoms. I imagine the forum they will be holding tomorrow will involve it quite a bit, given the timely arrival of the Dionan emissaries."

"War. A source of many a stirring tale o'heroism. And f'r each o' those, you get a thousand too sad to tell."

"None more sad than that of the princess, so I have heard, and of Dionan's lord. It would seem that Prince Roderick is dead, having been impersonated by a demonic entity which attempted to slay the princess as well on the day of the wedding."

He takes a slow sip of his drink. "And here was me thinking we'd finally see a bit of good news for a change."

The dwarf raises an eyebrow. "How'd a demon get past all th'defenses th'royals woulda had on ev'rything?"

"Not easily, that much I can assure you of," he answered quietly. "Nor without some amount of assistance either, I suspect."

"Demoniacs in the royal court?" Giorg says in a hushed whisper. "Tha'be a scandal, t'be sure."

"But...which court?"

"That depends on quite a lot," he says quietly. "I haven't very much information to go on, either. I know that I should not get myself involved. I might... cause trouble for Paladin Wryn."

The dragonborn's face goes pale, even with his night-like scales, as soon as he hears about his kingdom.

"Oh. I see. I hope I get a good opportunity tomorrow. Glad to hear you two had... rather eventful days. I met a fine human. Likos... Lekas... Lukas, I believe. Very courteous."

His eyes then focus on the table, with no meal. A mighty rumble can be heard, as the scaled one's face now goes back to normal, if not slightly red.

"Oh. Now, what should I order..."

Syreskala's eyes now are looking around the tavern, to see what others have ordered, and then looks at the rest of Giorg's cheese.

"I might just go simple. Avoid many... acidic foods. Bread with cheese, please!"

The dragonborn yells to the tavern's apparent owner, and sits correctly,tapping the table with his claws. His voice seems better than before, yet still rough, and old.

"If there is one thing I am certain of, Syreskala, it is that you should find no shortage of work available to you in these times. I do feel compelled to ask however... do you happen to know anyone within the Dionan embassy?"

The dragonborn's expression goes serious, as if his eyebrows had suddently gotten heavier.

"...You could say so. But I don't really keep contact with them. Let's just say our past relation wasn't very amicable."

"But about the work... I'm sure they could get me some. Muscle- he flexes, showing that he does indeed lift- is always needed somewhere."

"I understand. Forgive me for asking. I know that I shouldn't involve myself, and yet... I cannot stand idly by either."

"No, no. I believe we can call ourselves friends now, and that's what those are for, really. You talking to me just makes me feel better, honestly."

"I'magine we'll all be up to our ears 'n work soon enough," Giorg comments. "Things like'at have a way of spillin' over t'the streets. Even mor'so if both countries try t'keep things quiet."

"But... how would that make sense? Silence makes more noise?" The scaled one does not seem to understand such complicated words.

"The more you look like you have somethin' to hide, the more people will look for what it is," he explains. "And then th'ones poking around go missin', and that means folks start looking for'em, and that just means more pokin' around in places the royals don't want people anywhere near."

"Everyone loves to hear a good secret, especially in places like this," Sigismund agrees, popping a slice of cheese into his mouth thoughtfully.

"Unfortunately, I believe I may be in the market for some good secrets."

"Th'kind that get good folk in th'grave," the dwarf says, trying to sound ominous but not hostile. "Y'run into 'ny trouble, you call."

He turns to the dragonborn whose name he won't even try to pronounce.

"We'll do what w'can t'help, aye?"

"Aye." Syre repeats, trying to agree with the dwarf, somehow. "But, now... let's finish this meal! I mean, I spent the whole day without food."
He then pretty much buries himself in his plate.

"Aye."

He grabs a block of bread.