Adventurer's taverns often got a bad reputation for very little reason. Many of them were touted as being dimly light, dirty shacks with sub-par room and board. Prices either went through the roof or through the floor, depending on if prices reflected the grimy get-what-you-pay-for nature of the place, or the owner's desire to bleed dry every body that passed through their front door. In reality, more often than not the taverns were often well-kept, if a bit spartan, and prices were reasonable.

This was not one of the reasonable taverns, and Lathrine deeply regretted walking through the door.

Since her previous party disbanded and she had subsequently left the temple she served at, things had been... not fantastic. Parties requiring the services of an arcane archer currently seemed to be few and far between and while solo work certainly paid for room and board, it was lonely work on the best of days. At least she had enough money left over after stabling Rose and her horse to buy a round of beer and a half-cold meal.

Lathrine hunkered down at the far end of the bar, as close to the door as she could get, with her cloak pulled close around her shoulders. The hood of her cloak had slipped back, however it still rode high on the back of her neck. The plate of brown mush in front of her was, perhaps, the single most unappetizing thing she'd seen all week. At least the watered down beer was palatable, if not particularly strong.

And the music is decent, she thought, glancing toward the front of the room where a bard sat on a tall stool, enough so to make up for the booze. Poor sod-- they deserve better than this.

The bard strummed the strange instrument that sat across his lap. It made a melodic, almost wet sound as he plucked its strings, sound resonating from its large, hemispherical base. He smirked as he came to the climax of his latest improvised tale. "She saw the ten roses he left by her bedside, her window unbolted and shutters thrown wide. Into the light'ning and sunrise he stole a-way, running again. He was pleased with his haul, stealing away her heart and hy--" A sharp crash cut off the bard's improvised lyrics. He stopped, mid dirty pun, his sharp, elven eyes scanning the bar. Someone had thrown something, foul ale dripping down the wall in rivulets. Some barmaid Mai'dre had probably sweet-talked at some point was bearing down on a patron whose hand had recently held something. Alright, enough was enough. Time to see what he could get away with.

Rather than spinning dirty tales, Mai'dre Rilynn'Reithel, a bard trained in the renowned Artistic Academy of the Freelands, top of his class, and practiced lyricist, tried a new tactic. "Once again, here, they ruin my songs. While I merely search for a gold, but search this prolongs. The company in this place is as dull as it is dim, I must ask is it worth my practice to risk life and limb? Alas, it is but the job of this well-schooled elf. By this point, I should have gained a right sense of self." Mai'dre twisted insults into his slow, drawling song, each rhyme perfectly calculated along lyrical verse as if he were half poet and half composer. "But alas, dear listeners, I must depart, for this tavern lacks soap and lacks heart. It is with a heavy heart I bid you adieu, but it looks like the kind man before me wants to knock me askew."

Mai'dre leapt from the stool, dispelling his instrument in a whorl of blue and silver energy. Most useful cantrip in his book. Proverbial book, that is. He collected his empty instrument case, snapping it shut with barely masked disgust. Along with the several silver he put in himself, only pitiful few copper clinked around within. The tavern assumed he would be paid in tips. The patrons assumed the bard was paid by the tavern. Nothing could be done without any damned communication. Maybe a sign would be necessary. Mai'dre could see it now: Performing with a sign tied around his neck like a tramp. Not like any of these ruffians could read, he scoffed quietly, ducking around the imposing table before him to take refuge at the bar. At least the barkeep was friendly. S-sort of.

Mai'dre smiled up at the barkeep for a split second and had an ale before him within another. Well... about ten percent ale and ninety water... if... if that's what they called water. He almost gagged as he cast a purification spell with a soft humming lullaby.

"So, eh, how has your day been?" Mai'dre asked, casting a soft gaze over the layers of fabric beside him. He could only assume that it was an elf beneath the folds, based on the length of... their ears. Man? Woman? Both? Neither? He didn't honestly care. Company was company, both at the bar and in the bed.

As the words drifted to the back of the hall, Lathrine winced and freed a hand to rub at her temples with a huff of a laugh. Okay, so the song itself wasn't particularly... highbrow. Neither was the thinly veiled insult to the bard's audience that followed, after an interruption from someone drunk as Lathrine only wished she was. But there was clearly some musical prowess behind the songs themselves-- or at least, that was what Lathrine chose to believe. She had very little musical knowledge, but it seemed kindest to give the man the benefit of the doubt and assume he had fallen on hard times. Of course, that was before he had woven his way through the crowd and sat down next to her.

The bard said something, and Lathrine disregarded him to drink from her mug. After a long minute, it occurred to her that the bard might be addressing her. Well, that was a dilemma. She had planned on drinking herself into a light stupor tonight, which didn't make for the best companionship, but the booze she was willing to pay for wasn't nearly strong enough for such a thing. That left her with a night of drinking alcohol flavored water by her lonesome, and in light of that development company was more than welcome.

But on the other hand... bard. He might very well be a lovely person, but bards had a reputation for sleeping around for a reason and Lathrine wasn't in the mood to be hit on or propositioned. However, he seemed to be having approximately as shitty a day as she was, and after another long moment Lathrine responded with half a shrug. "Eh. No work, shitty beer... it's been better. Yourself?"

"Shitty work, no beer."Mai'dre laughed a trembling laugh as he identified some strange chemical in the water he didn't know the source or name of. He still hadn't worked up the nerve to actually drink the foul water in front of him, no matter what purification spell he dumped on it. He had been made to live at sea, both by nature, nurture, and blood, but he had drunken sea water with fewer contaminants than this. Contaminants. Right. Riiiiight... The worst water makes the best alcohol. And, as a bard, he had just the response for that.

"Alright, so tell me if I'm coming off too strong, but I have a proposition for you. You cheer up, remember you're still alive, think about all the things you've got and how the world isn't over because you're goin' through a rough patch, and Iiiiiiiiii--" Mai'dre dropped his voice to a very low whisper, leaning closer to his conversation partner to keep his next few words from the tavern staff-- "will turn this into something actually drinkable."He sat back up on his stool, staring down his nose at the tankard, obviously offended by its presence. He flicked his gaze back over to the heavily robed form beside him, expression immediately softening. "What'd'ya say? Can ya manage a smile?" He offered one of his own, quirking a long, feathery eyebrow and inclining his head toward the elf beside him, as if they needed an example.

Turn this swill into something actually--? Right, because that didn't sound sketchy at all. Lathrine turned her head towards the bard and raised an elongated eyebrow of her own, eyeing him suspiciously. Something about his offer tickled at her memory, but once she actually saw the bard, the thought was replaced by another: What a strange elf.

Up until this point, Lathrine had been mentally referring to the bard as 'he' based solely off his voice-- in reality, she had no idea of his gender. But his appearance sealed the deal, in her mind-- never in her life had Lathrine seen an elf with a beard before. Granted, that was masculine only by non-elven standards. As far as she knew there wasn't a single species of elf that grew hair anywhere but their head, so his appearance was... strange. Almost as sketchy as his proposal.

The eyebrow fell back into place, and she squinted at him. "Yeah, you're coming off a bit too strong." All the same, when he offered her a smile Lathrine couldn't help but respond with a wry smile of her own. 'Cheer up this isn't the end things are gonna be okay'-- "I'm really that obvious, huh?"

Mai'dre smirked as he sat back a bit, shifting away from his companion slightly. "Obvious? Not t'be any more rude than I have been already, yer sitting alone at the end of a shitty bar, drinking this... whatever it is, slouched over an' staring deep into yer filthy mug. Darlin', there's nothing more obvious t'a bard than someone havin' a rough day. We, or at least bards o'my kiln, exist to bring joy and strength t'people, not watch them suffer. Especially not our own people." He rubbed at the bit of skin behind his ear and in front of his hair, indicating his elven nature.

"My end a the bargain, as promised. To decency. And to bardic magic." Mai'dre held up his mug to Lathrine, already muttering a soft, short lullaby, waving his free hand about as if he were playing an invisible instrument.

Lathrine raised her eyebrow again and watched Mai'dre for a moment, then snorted out a laugh. "At least you're honest and care. And try. That's more than the last bard I knew-- Don't think he gave a single crap about anything but his booze or anyone but himself." Which, come to think of it--... The thought from earlier returned. The late dwarven bard from her disbanded party had spent most of his time drinking high quality alcohol, even when it seemed impossible to have obtained such a thing. No reason he couldn't have had whatever spell Mai'dre was casting, if it was of the bardic school.

Her wry smile softened slightly into something a little more genuine, and Lathrine sat back, straightening her spine. In the same movement, she pushed the untouched plate of something clearly inedible away. She wasn't that hungry, and if she needed something to eat later there were still trail rations in her bag. If she were anyone else Lathrine might not've taken the chance. He claimed to be a good person, but plenty of terrible people did the same, and anyone could be claiming to 'cast magic'. If nothing seemed to have changed, she'd just leave and go elsewhere. And if something happened, there was a frighteningly intelligent and very large tiger not far. So Lathrine offered a "Cheers," and bumped her mug into the bard's.

Mai'dre released the spell once they made the toast, channelling it into both flagons so as to not have to waste an extra spell. "Cheers." He replied. It was an invaluable spell. Strong enough to affect vast quantities of stagnant and contaminated water and transmute it into high quality, and more importantly, drinkable alcohol. It kept him alive in the swamplands in the west, transmuting swamp water into the best beer he had ever tasted and rotting fruits into finely aged wine. He had once cast it on a flagon of dwarven ale to see exactly what would happen and had gotten chased out by a fleet of inebriated dwarves.

"A bard that doesn't care? Must a' been a shite bard." Mai'dre took a deep pull from his mug. He sighed deeply into a smile. "The quality of this now is just... eerie. Unnerving, to say the least. How can they sell what this was? Honestly? I guess I know why there was quite a bit dripping down the wall just a bit ago... But yes, giving a damn is one of the few reasons preforming bards exist. I mean, who would study for four or more years on a subject if it was only for their own benefit? I can't fathom..." Mai'dre trailed off. "Forgive me, I don't believe I've asked your name."

Once the bard withdrew his mug, Lathrine did the same. She cradled it for a moment before bringing the mug to her lips and taking a sip to test. The difference was immediately obvious, and while Lathrine was hardly an expert even she knew beer of this quality would never be seen in an establishment like this. Her eyes drifted shut for a moment and she nursed her beer a little more gently than before. "Much better, thank you," she hummed, nodding slowly. "Mm, he was terrible. Always getting our party into fights, causing a ruckus everywhere he went... as I remember, he went and got himself killed doing such a thing. Though that might've been the difference-- as I recall, he was a combat bard. That said, his brother wasn't much better..."

At the memory of the two, Lathrine raised a hand to rub her temple, fingers running over the string of feather tattoos over her left brow. She dropped the hand back to her mug and opened her eyes, gaze flickering back to the bard at her side. "--Ah, Lath'Rynn Op'Aral. And you are...?"

"Mai'dre Rilynn'Reithel, at your service." Mai'dre half-bowed from his waist. "Although, I already have been." He wagged his mug, sloshing his magically enhanced alcohol around. "But no, a bard's duty, as far as I have lived and have been taught, is to protect and empower his allies, not drag them down. I can only guess he was improperly trained and perhaps a little out of his right mind. But... still, to speak so ill of the dead... he must have been terrible." Mai'dre swallowed air, suddenly very aware of his current lifestyle choices and how unstable his own living conditions were.

"And might I inquire about those tattoos?" Mai'dre shifted the mug from his right hand to his left, tapping his free fingers on the bar idly.

Mmm, perhaps she should've played it closer to her chest when talking about the late bard. He hadn't been a good companion, but he had been decently competent in combat, if a little lacking in any form of common sense, and they'd had far worse than him in their party. Besides, pretending to have thought highly of the late bard felt more dishonest to his memory than simply saying her mind. He had never been one to sugarcoat things, anyways. Regardless, it was too late now.

Lathrine raised the hand back to her brow, brushing the markings with her fingertips. "You may. There really isn't much of a story or any meaning behind these ones-- I've had a great deal of training as a hunter, and most of the skills I was taught stemmed from birds of prey." She thought for a moment before shrugging and taking a sip of her beer. "That's about it, honestly."

"Ah. Tattoos generally have to mean something very important for anyone to permanently scar their bodies with an image. Doubly so for elven folk. But, I mean, I'm no stranger to commitment myself." Mai'dre placed his tankard on the bar and unbelted the end of his left sleeve. He hiked up the loose off white cloth, first revealing dark twenty black lines, each bracketed together in two sets of ten with a space between the fifth and sixth lines in each set. Then came the treble and bass clefs, then the mass of intricate black lines that formed intertwined music notes, waves, and vines that continued up under his shoulder pads, shirt, and vest.

"Last four years have been a bit of a...n eventful time, if I do say so myself. Time under the needle keeps the mind sharp." He traced the staff lines on his arm with his right index finger. There was enough room on his not-too-slim, not-too-jiggly forearm for two complete lines of staff. If he wrote small enough with his ink brush, he could get a whole sixteen bars on his arm at one time. Thirty-two if he only wanted treble or bass.

Lathrine glanced back at Mai'dre in time to see him pull back his sleeve, and so she turned on her stool and leaned closer to get a better look at the artwork- nothing else it could be- beautifully displayed on his arm. It was obviously something musical, that much she knew, but anything beyond that was lost on her. She could hum a simple tune or two, maybe, but instead of settling down and learning how to sing and play, Lathrine had returned to the woods and learned how to pierce a lung from twenty yards.

"You're right on that one. Wish they'd been a little less eventful," she agreed softly. Lathrine sat back a bit, still following the partially revealed lines of staff and waves and vines with her eyes. "It's beautiful. What does it mean to you, if you don't mind me asking?"

"It means what it looks like. Music in and o' itself is art, both fleeting and lasting. The act of playing can only last so long, but the scripture related ta the performance can last millenia." Mai'dre ran his right hand over the lines on his forearm. "Fleeting," and up his arm to the vines, waves, and notes. "An' lasting." He paused, smiling at his arm. He glanced back up at Lathrine, still grinning like a dumbass. "Sorry, it's all... very musical--m-metaphorical." He misspoke. "But the sleeve goes up and across my chest. I don' think taking off my armor would be a good idea in a bar like this, or I would show ya. I've been meaning t' get more, but the funds have run out and I've taken ta playing at taverns for tips rather than going out adventurin' like before. The profit margins are... different to say the least."

Mai'dre grinned at her like that, and Lathrine propped herself up with an elbow on the countertop, unintentionally relaxing in her seat. This man was disarmingly charming-- she'd need to keep a closer eye on him. At least it wasn't in the slimey sort of way. Yet. Sitting with him was just... nice. "Mm, don't apologize. 'S something you're passionate about, I hope, considering your profession." Lathrine shrugged, took a swig of her drink, and returned Mai'dre grin with a lopsided- but honest- smile of her own. "I don't often think about this stuff, or know much about music, but it's clearly important to you. After my last run in with a bard, the passion is a nice change of pace."

"Besides, I hear what you're saying. Things've been rough lately-- I had a nice set up with a friend's temple, but after my party dumped them... the temple wasn't so willing to send me work when I returned." Her sight flickered back to the dark liquid in her mug, and the smile shrank away. "It's been tight. But eh, things have to get better some day, right?"

Mai'dre had long known the power of an actually passionate smile. Rogues could fake all the smirks and truths they wanted. As far as he was concerned, bards knew how to maintain a lie: don't. Bards simply live them. Of course, sometimes those lies end up being far too true in the end. Case in point...

"At least yer party didn't decide ya weren't worthy anymore, did they? Keep one li'l thing personal and..."Mai'dre rolled his eyes, turning his head to the side, facing the bar. He turned back to Lathrine, flaring his hand next to his temple. "Poof," his hand dropped, "no more party bard. Hope they can find encouragement where there is nothin' but adversity. It's all a mind battle." Mai'dre tapped his forehead, then shook his sleeve back down his arm, cinching the strap that ran around his wrist tight once again. "I mean, if a li'l bit of encouragement can make them competent, it must've been some good, driving background music. But alas. To better teams." He once again raised his mug, proposing an actual toast this time.

As Mai'dre turned his head, Lathrine caught sight of the earrings that ran up the length of his elven ears-- which were themselves a strange counterpart to the distinctly not elven beard that still caught her eye from time to time. Ah, well, probably just a spell of some kind. Bards had been known to do stranger things to draw attention.

"To better teams," Lathrine chimed in, raising her mug and clinking it against Mai'dre's. She drew hers back, drinking deeper from it than before, then set the flagon back on the bar. "Man, frick parties like that. Unless it's something truly terrible, people have every right to keep things to themselves. It isn't anyone's business, y'know? No one owes anyone else personal information. You deserve better than that-- no one should be stuck with that kind'a party." Lathrine snorted, keenly aware of how her speech had sagged as she grew more comfortable, and swirled the remaining beer around in her mug. "Mine just decided they were too good for the temple, and ditched it as soon as we finished the first job. I'm sure it was fine for the party, but our companion was part of the temple and I directly worked for it. I had some words for them, and split ways shortly after."

Mai'dre half drained his drink, taking several gulps in the end to clear his mouth. He set the mug down and stared at it for a long, awkward moment. "It certainly wasn't any a'their business. It did not interfere with my performance in the group. One would say that it even enhanced it." Mai'dre added with a soft smirk. "But enough about that. Nothin's been lost if you didn't wanna go with them. If your and your friend's places were at the temple, you pursued your wishes and... well, ya ended up here, so it couldn't have been great, but hey, you met me, so that's somethin', am I right?"

Lathrine snorted again, mostly at the 'enhanced performance' comment, but a small smirk appeared on her face. "You're not entirely wrong, that's for sure-- you are nice enough, and you did fix my cheap beer. Don't often meet people like you in places like this. Not because they aren't here, but 'cause-- from my experience-- they're drinking and want to be left alone, so they don't seek out company." She paused, staring into her mug for a moment before downing most of what was left. "... Kind of like me, I guess. So... thanks."

A beat, and then Lathrine changed the subject. "Man, it's unfortunate that this place has as bad food as it does booze." Not that, she thought as she glanced at the plate of unknown contents, she had dared test the food. "I don't suppose bards have a way to, ah... 'fix' terrible tavern food as well?"

"Yer welcome. It's what bards do, luv. Company is what we do." Mai'dre stared deep into his mostly empty tankard. "Nope. Nope, can't say that we can. Our main goal is to get people smashed, not fed. Try a cleric or a bard with a wand of "purify food an' drink." 'Cept that won't make it good, just... not..." He paused, his face contorting as he tried to decipher the food laid out before Lathrine. Even with all the disasters he had produced in the culinary classes back in college, he had no answer as to what could have made that particular shade of puce. "Poison... I think I have some trail rations if yer hard up, but ah... they're just as terrible as you remember."

"Ah well. So it goes. I'm not quite that hard pressed, but thanks for the offer." She sighed, then drained her tankard and stood up, shaking out her cloak and fixing the hood so it laid properly. Lathrine rested a hand on her thigh, then went for the small coin purse that hung from her belt. After a moment of deliberation, Lathrine fished out three gold pieces and a platinum, and slid the coins across the counter top to Mai'dre. "For your performance, an' everyone else's tips, too. Seein' as they're all too broke or cheap to tip you. It's lookin' like I'm probably not drinking myself into a stupor tonight, so I'm gonna head out and find somewhere with edible food."

There was another slight pause, and after a moment Lathrine offered Mai'dre a small smile. "You provided good booze and company and kept me away from that stupor, I'll buy you dinner in return. That sound fair?"

"Thirteen? For one night? Hun, I have ta have some kind'a self-respect." Mai'dre teased. "But thirteen an' a good meal?" He broke out into his trademark dopey smile. "Sounds like a perfect deal." He inadvertently rhymed, stepping down off of his stool. He fished out a few copper and laid it on the counter. "For the..." Mai'dre turned to the bartender and paused, searching for a word that wouldn't get him banned from one of the few venues in town. "Alcohol." He eventually choked out. He spun around, faced Lathrine, and placed a hand on her shoulder. "But I'll have ta owe you one. Spells come easy, especially when I'm jus' dumping cantrips into performances and all my others get wasted by the end of the day. But if I have enough of the energy that 'enhance water' takes, it doesn't get wasted and I do." Mai'dre snorted quietly.

"But the night isn't over yet and I haven't used much of my reservoir. That was the first spell I cast today, besides the little cantrips that enhance my performances. 'Summon instrument,' that kind of thing. So I can't promise ya won't be in a stupor, but at least it'll be by better alcohol and with better company." He patted her shoulder. "That is, if ya want ta." He winced at his implications.

With a snort at Mai'dre's joke, Lathrine dropped a few copper on the bar to pay for the terrible beer and the untouched 'poison'. "We'll see," she replied, "'M not particularly interested, but the night's still young. An' there's gotta be somewhere in town with better alcohol. Even then-- I can see the benefits of bein' able to make that little bit better. Besides, if you're offering, I'm not gonna say no," Lathrine admitted with a grin, patting Mai'dre's hand before stooping to pick up her pack from where it had sat between her feet. She straightened, shrugging the pack over one shoulder and readjusting the now visible quiver that hung at her side. "In all honesty though, I'll drink with strangers and new folk, but I won't get drunk with them 'less it's a new party-- no offense."

There was a slight pause where Lathrine glanced back at the bar, thinking. She'd paid for the 'food' and 'drink', she'd tipped the bard for his services, she'd paid for the stabling of her animals when she first arrived... A slight nod to herself, and her eyes flicked back to Mai'dre. "I'll need to stop by the stable, before we search for greener pastures. D'you have your things?"

Mai'dre shifted the strap on his back, indicating the satchel that hung at his backside. "Although I probably should..." He swung the bag around and flipped open the top, loosening the drawstring. From that satchel bag, he pulled an entire instrument case that stood almost as tall as he was. It was oddly shaped, with bulges at both ends, looking as if someone had spliced two massive lutes together at the stem with the bases perpendicular to each other. Mai'dre held the case up as he moved toward the door. "Some say tha' keepin' an instrument in hammerspace too long warps the poor thing. Can't have that happenin' ta this beauty. It's not much of an heirloom yet, but I'm hopin' it will be one day. Not that I'm implyin' anythin', that is. Jus'... Bards pass down things of importance. Instruments, stories, cloaks, songs... I'm hopin' that there comes a time that I'm prolific enough that someone'll look at this thing and say," Mai'dre hiked the instrument up to his chest and hugged it. "'Yeah, that was Mai'dre's sitar,' and not follow it up with 'what a useless bastard he was'." He laughed a single, loud, barking laugh as he made his way out the door.

Once she was sure everything was settled and nothing was resting wrong on the bow hidden under her cloak, Lathrine followed Mai'dre out the door. A few quick steps drew her even with him, and Lathrine reached out to pat the small of his back. "C'mon now, don't think like that! I'm sure you're gonna make it great." She drew the hand back, rubbing at the side of her neck. "'M not sure what a sitar is, but regardless-- I'm sure you're wonderful. An' I'm sure people will look back on you fondly."

The stables weren't far, just around the side of the tavern, and it didn't take long for the pair to reach their destination. And just like the tavern they were attached to, the stables were nothing fancy; little more than rows of stalls with a walking space behind a four foot fence. "One second--" Lathrine didn't even wait for a stablehand to appear-- she just climbed over the fence and dropped down. Not many animals had been stabled, and it took Lathrine maybe a minute to locate her horse (which she lead by the halter) and her tiger. The latter of which went for Mai'dre the moment Lathrine got the gate open, prowling forward to sniff his hand and hip before throwing her weight against his leg and rubbing against him.

Lathrine leveled a dry look at the tiger, before shaking her head and laughing. "Rose, please, leave him alone--"