 but not for long really. A small bit of rest for his body and a restocking of supplies before he continued, but that would mean a village would be necessary close by, and yet there wasn't any. Drawing up a small fire Dawn closed his eyes for a short while only to awake to the sound of early morning chirps of birds.
Making on his way after packing up his camp and making it so no sign of him was ever there he continued. Dawn had a little after midday reached a little village what seemed to be a farming kind of town. Being cautious the elf slung his hood up and made sure most of his elven features were hidden. Making his way to market he had purchased the few items he needed with no issue. Bread, cheese, and a little bit of salted pork he could use later. As the elf made his way to the only known place that sold liquid Dawn made his way into the tavern.
As he swung the door open eyes instantly jumped to him and a cup had been tossed at his head [b "I said get lost Hound."] Dawn grabbed the cup before he could make contact with his face. He placed the cup back on the counter he spoke up. [#125638 "I am not a hound, nor am I a beast."] as he spoke the man behind the bar seemed to jump and spin around another mug in one hand and a towel in the other, [b "Oh.. What can I get for you.."] he said with a puzzled eye.
As the man looked Dawn up and down the elf sat his water skin upon the counter top, [#125638 "I need some Dunland Ale."] the man looked even more surprised to see this little kid like thing knew what he was talking about. [b "Are you a bit young to be drinking lad?"] Removing his hood to show his elven features Dawn had tapped his ears. [#125638 "Young maybe, but I am pretty sure I am older than you are bar keep."] Before he could finish the words dawn heard the sound of wooden chairs being pushed back and men stood up swords being drawn.
grumbling for a moment or two while men approached the elf from behind his eyes flashed with a light. Dawn spun just in time out of the way bow and arrow drawn and fired pinning the man who had just attacked him to the countertop. [b "I said we don't serve your kind here. Now get out or you will be forced out."] Dawn just laughed for a bit before drawing his bow back with three more arrows. [#125638 "I warned you my master would not be pleased."] the man only huffed even more. [b "Fine. Two gold pieces and nothing less."] Digging at his side for a moment Dawn dug out the remainder of his funds for this trip and placed them on the countertop along with the waterskin.
Filling it up from a hidden room he came back and threw it on the counter right next to dawn who was still ready with his bow. [b "Here now get. We've seen enough of the Damn order's pets here."] Curious as he was Dawn wasn't going to push it. Slaves from the order was one thing, but Hounds entirely another. As he left Dawn saw him. He had seen the giant man who had nearly captured him many years ago. Sticking to the shadows of the village he had left in a hurry hoping that the man had not seen him.
Trudging a little bit through some treelines, very tall grass, and hills like no other he saw it. The border of the Orders lands. The very Forest of Ordin. It was said inside the treeline the caravan made camp, but that is not what caught the elf's eye no instead it was the Horse on the hill not far from him just shy of the camp itself.
One day. Twenty-four hours. That was the all the time off the Dwarf was allotted once every month. It wasn’t much, but even that meager amount was a welcome reprieve from the forge. Truly, it was a shame. Years ago, the sweltering heat of white-hot flames and the uproarious clamor of metal on metal were the elements of a sanctuary. There was a powerful pride to bending unyielding and hardened materials to one’s will. That came from the physical toil alone. Adding artistic craftsmanship to pieces, a personal stamp to showcase a creation, was an additional fulfillment unmatched by anything else. It was a labor of love. Or it used to be. Now, that once sacred place and that once divine work was nothing more than a prison. An unfortunate consequence of the Dwarf woman’s enslavement in the Phoenix Order. Quantity mattered far more than quality in their eyes, so the work became just that: work. At least she got one day a month.
Vodurra Twohammers was spending her leave in the same way she had been for the past thirteen years – face buried deep in a tankard of ale. Her seventh one to be precise. The reddish-brown beverage had a mildly nutty flavor that dropped right into the pit of her belly and warmed her from the inside out. It was, perhaps, the one thing she felt she could still look forward to in this miserable life. Although, it was still little more than water compared to a good Dwarven brew. With a strong concoction from home, Vodurra could be twice as drunk with half the amount. But one had to make do with what they were given. She tipped the tankard back, downing its remains. Good timing too because had she taken a moment longer, she would have spat the stuff back out again as a deafening slam sent the front door nearly careening off its hinges. Instead, she jumped, bright green eyes immediately shooting to fix the newcomer with an aggrieved glare.
It was a giant of a man who filled the entryway. From the distrusting looks of the other patrons in the tavern, he even appeared enormous by regular standards. Standing at a mere three foot eight herself, it could be difficult to tell at times from Vodurra’s point of view. Much to the relief of the general occupants, however, this giant seemed to mean no harm. A child even felt comfortable enough to toddle up to him as he waited for the barman to fill his order. Vodurra hopped off her rickety stool with a heavy thud to go place an order of her own. As she approached the poor excuse for a bar, she caught the last moments of the owner ordering the man to get out and, as he turned, saw the reason swinging around his neck. [i Hound.] Now, Vodurra did spit. It was a purposeful fat wad of phlegm in the giant’s general direction as he left.
With the unwelcome guest gone, chatter resumed pleasantly as the Dwarf stood on tiptoe to order another ale. Normally, non-humans would be hard pressed to find any service so close to Amvir. It was a difficult first few months of searching for such an establishment when the redheaded woman was initially brought to the city. The farming village was well past the first dozen or so attempts. Since she was a fully registered servant of the city who could drink more than an average man’s weight in alcohol, however, the owner of the rundown tavern was willing to take what little coin she had to spare. Carefully, Vodurra lifted the refilled tankard off the bar, tossed the man his silver, and balanced the drink back to her stool. Every drop was precious, and she intended to spill none.
As she began to sip at the frothy head, the door swung open again and brought in another stranger. He received a welcoming cup chucked at his head. Luckily, he caught it before it made contact. Vodurra choked back a laugh as the bartender made a halfhearted attempt to modify his misplaced anger. She looked on with mild interest as the man revealed himself to be an Elf. Several others around her took more than an interest. They stood, weapons drawn, the air tense with the promise of a fight.
For a moment the Dwarf idly thumbed a battle axe tucked away in her belt. She didn’t know whose side she intended to be on, but that didn’t matter. A fight, particularly a bar fight, was always a good way to release pent up emotions of which Vodurra had many. In the end (and with some difficulty) she decided against involving herself. It would be no good getting in a brawl when she knew there would be punishment to follow if her captors caught word of it. Quickly, she guzzled down her drink and made toward the exit.
Once outside Vodurra continued to hover around the tavern. Refraining from getting into a fight did not mean she had to keep herself from listening to one. Much to her dismay, one never ensued. Instead, the Elf walked out only a couple moments after she had. She was about to reenter the tavern again but did a double take upon seeing the Elf up close. Then she realized from his hair color that he was not just any Elf, but a High Elf. What’s more was that she recognized him as Dawn Eclipse, a key figure of the Rebellion.
Vodurra had only been within the walls of the hidden city beneath Amvir a couple of times. While she supplied weapons for the Rebellion’s cause, it was oftentimes through a secretive drop system, so she never had much need nor the spare