The Violet Witch

Krysin downed another flagon of ale, then span in a swinging motion and hit the orcish-looking brute in the face with his mug, which sent him falling back into a table. "Not so weak now, am I?" He asked, spitting the ground. He had drawn quite a bit of attention to himself, but he didn't care. The bartender just mumbled to his hired guards to take the orc outside, then suddenly everything was almost back to normal.

The man fell down into a stool. "Another ale," he ordered, despite knowing he had just spent his final few coins, but at this point he'd sell his greatswords for another drink. He had two of them; enough to get another two pints at least!

In actual fact, they were worth much more than a pint of ale. They shined in the light of the nearby fire, leaning up against the side of his seat as a busty barmaid whose breasts were almost falling out of her corset pushed another drink his way. He found himself watching her more than he should have, almost to the point of drooling.

Rani had never seen a building like this before. It was interesting to her. She'd take a seat somewhere near her companions.

"Hello, I be waitin' on someone who be around tomorrow." Rani responded to Krysin while waiting for the others.

"Thank ya." Rani took sip of her drink, it didn't taste how she expected but it was good enough for her to continue to drink.

Krysin paused, then slowly shook his head. "No. I don't need anything," he replied, deciding at that point to leave them. He turned around and went back to his own table at the side of the room.

Rani looked around, holding her mug and drinking from it occasionally while listening to Ralf and Max's conversation.

He was quick to take a seat adjacent to Ralf and beside Rani.
''A Varan with a reasonable and logical life style? had I not known better, i'd think you were exiled''
The Asgeirian nomad did not forget their conversation in the forest, as he proceeded to ask the man a bunch of questions with renewed enthusiasm.
''I was a captain of a small company under commander Ivis' mercenary unit. We were sent by a non participating kingdom to aid in the war effort, no better way to spare resources and keep up public appearance than mercenaries.''
A slight pause followed.
''But, we took the job anyways. And yes, that is where I met both your father and mother. Ambitious and level headed, your father was. One time in the war camp, the commanders pulled their blades on each other. Your father did not care for any of them, he simply left the camp, and took his men to the pass for battle. Your mother truth be told I thought was dead, not many made it out that day.''
The expression upon Max's face started changing. Instead of its usual blank monotone, a slight, but noticeable look of sorrow donned upon him.

''Times were tough near the end of the war. Morale was low and the troops were broken. We've lost most of our support from outside the war camp, and many of us had mouths to feed. It was then when the Gripclaw traitor hit us from the inside, not with swords but with gold. Many men accepted the offer.....''
''Including me'' his voice hit an unusually somber low tone, shame seeping out underneath the cracks.

''It only took one look at the corpses the next day to realize my grave mistake. I tried fighting back in the end, but it was futile.''
''As to why I survived? I ask the fates that question every. single. night.''

"Arry, a round for myself and my friends. This should cover the rest of my tab from last month."

Max paid no attention to the scholar, for he was deep in thought to care. That is until he started rambling about his vambrace, specifically curses.

''What do you know about curses, mage?''

''Suppose you wanted skin as tough as iron, or eyes capable of seeing for miles. Bam, I got a curse for you. Exists forever, unless you get someone to remove the spell from you. But most of the time, why would you?"

Max bolted from his chair before Hirhan could even complete his order for another mug of ale, he held him by the shoulder tightly, before giving him a soft ''wake up'' slap across the face.
''Focus with me.I need you to think real well before answering this: are you saying that you have the capability to remove a curse?''

When the Sellsword, Max, had revealed his ultimate deal at Gripclaw Pass Ralf swalloed a lump of disappointment. Of all the people he'd meet in the world, this Sellsword was one of the many who had betrayed the Alliance. Any normal man would have engaged in a brawl, perhaps even a fight to the death with a traitor like that, but Ralf was no normal man.

In the years being raised by his mother, Aesa, Ralf had come to understand forgiveness and reasoning. He had heard the tales, of the betrayal at Gripclaw, but ultimately Aesa deduced the defense of the pass was doomed from the start. The small Alliance force had fought well enough, but the attritious strategy of the Alquen army would have eventually overwhelmed them. The fact that there was a traitor meant very little. At least, that's the way Aesa saw it. Volrun, Ralf's father, had stayed behind simply because of honor and loyalty. Despite the odds, he would not leave the pass, and would not succumb to temptation. There was simply no way he could have betrayed the Allied effort.

So with all that thought, Ralf patted Max on the shoulder, letting him know that Ralf forgave him for any of his past deeds. "We all have to make choices, brother. Some of us are faced with options we don't like to make. We're forced into doing things. It's what they call survival. But in the end, we're still brothers and sisters at heart, every one of us."

Hirhan had been carousing, to the obvious annoyance of many in the tavern. Ralf turned his somber expression into one of entertainment as he watched Max get up and converse with Hirhan.

"Ah," he sighed, looking over at Rani. "So Rani, you mentioned your ancestors were warriors. My people, the Varan, have been warriors since the dawn of time. Naturally, I take an interest in your ancestors. Tell me, what do you know of them? Have they ever been to the realm of Asgeir?"