He was drunk, he knew it, and he was happy. It was not often the Molegrik let himself go, so when he did, he did so without peer. He had been running low on gold and supplies for weeks now, and had very little to look forward to. While he was normally a more optimistic person, his stores of positive feelings had been running dry and needed a booster. Thus, the man with the iron limb was throwing back ale, wine, grog, and mead like there was no tomorrow. A slack grin was splayed across his face, his eyes blurry and unfocused. He sang along with a group of rowdy sailor who had just made port, swaying a little enthusiastically from side to side.

I left my lass upon the shore
The sails and sea called ever more
Drink the grog, over the deck
Hit the water and break your neck

Woke day after, head like fire
Sand all around and feelin' damn tired
Looked all around and what'd I see
Crates o' grog feel over with me

Molegrik was only able to stand for those two verse before his feet gave way. Stumbling backwards, he fell into a chair, howling like a madman with laughter. He hadn't had this much fun in a while, and so far he had had only five tankards of alcohol. The fact that he knew the number meant that his mind was still working well enough, just dulled by the liquor. It also meant that he needed more if he wanted to stay happy. He was not a drunkard, not by a long shot, but tonight he needed to celebrate before the reality of spending his last coins hit him the day after.

Rising from the chair, the leather bound man mad his way over to the counter. Slamming his iron fist on it, he summoned the proprietor. "He slammed his mug next to his fist. "More ale my man!"

The day had been bright and sunny just an hour ago. Now one could barely see through the thick downpour. There was a bright flash off in the distance, soon followed by a low rumble. Andin looked down from the banister from which he was perched. The street below was thick with mud and water filled ruts. Soaking wet, Andin lept from the banister towards the other side of the street. Halve way through his leap, he suddenly disappeared and just a suddenly reappeared on the roof of a building across the road.

There was another flash of light, yet the streaks of lightning were visible this time. And no longer was its echo a rumble, but a loud boom. Andin knew it was time to get off the roof. He very casually jumped off the edge of the roof and vanished. He reappeared on a small balcony about 10 feet off the ground. He jumped again, reappearing on the top of a food cart, then jumped off of the cart and landed on the ground.

As soon as he touched the ground, he broke into a run, using his light weight to keep his feet as far out of the deep mud as he could. After about three minutes, he arrived at his destination. A loud, boisterous, drunken place that he had been forced to call home for the past eight months. The tavern was dry and warm though, and the first was enough.

He pulled open the door only to be met with the overpowering smell of beer and cigars. He quickly made his way through the room into a corner where the smoke was not as thick. He was also near the fire, so its warmth was helping dry his dripping clothing.

A drunken man stumbled into the corner, and set his mug on the corner of the table. “EH! This, this is.. My seat…hic…move..” Andin stared at him for a moment. Then took the mug from the man's hands. A look of horror crossed his face. “Hey! Give that back!!” Andin the stretched out his arm and poked the man on the forehead. He hit the floor and was out cold. ‘Problem solved. And free ale too.’

Andin surveyed the room. All was normal. Well almost all. An unusual being stood at the bar. He wore heavy armor, but his arm, it appeared to be made of pure metal. ‘Odd.’ The only thing that kept Andin going in this boring town seemed to be oddities. The man was most defiantly drunk. If he was ever going to learn something about this person, it was now. Andin always started with observing, and now would be no different. He would see how he acted. And since he was drunk, Andin could probably ask him anything and get an answer, but only time would tell that. So for now, he sat quiet, drowning in a sea of noise.

Chet quietly made his way into the Tavern. He immediately felt the warm air greet him as he swung the door open and stepped inside. It had been a cold night. The place was bustling and roaring as always. Drunks shouting and chowling with laughter about this and that, the Tavern was sadly a place with which the 19 year old was all too familiar.

He made his way over to the bar and snatched a stool in an area where the men appeared to be the least rowdy. Chet enjoyed his time in the Tavern, but generally not for the company. The fools that spent their time here irritated him for the most part, and Chet only really came for the warmth and lack of anything better to do. He enjoyed a drink but rarely got significantly drunk. One never knew what could happen in a place like this and it was always handy to have one's wits about them.

"I'll have a brew", Chet quietly told the man working at the bar. He raised the mug to his lips and took a taste. The sweet familiar taste was very kind to him, and he found he could not put it down. Before he knew it he was chugging the ale like a champ and drained it completely before he could have even realized. Before Chet could even regain his breath, the barkeeper had poured him a fresh new one, and gave him a grin. Chet thanked him and continued with this pattern for a good while until he felt a buzz coming. He began to wonder if the little money he had could even pay for this. He drowned this thought in another ale.

Chet looked around the tavern to see if anything interesting appeared to be going on. Immediately catching his eye was a huge man of massive proportions whose arm appeared to be made of metal. He was staggering around the room, clearly drunk beyond his wit. He then saw another man walk in. This one took advantage of a nearby drunkard by gently knocking him over and taking his ale. Chet saw this and began to chuckle aloud. People around him turned their gaze toward him to see what he was laughing about. Chet hoped the man who had just entered didn't realize he was laughing at him.

Fara're came walking into the tavern. She pulled a loose lock of her black hair out of her face and tucked it behind her hair. She was of course in her elven form and not her tiger. Being in her tiger form while in towns just brought trouble. And she got into enough trouble as it was.

She gracefully made her way though the crowd making her way to the bar. She noticed she was one of the few females in the tavern, save for the serving wenches. This seemed to draw a bit of attention to her.

One drunk stood up in front of her and gave a yellow toothed smile. "Hey missy...why don' cha...*hick* stay with me fe a while *hic*" he said.

She looked him up and down. He was a strong looking man and seemed to be a vetrin at brawls. Many women would be afraid of advances from a man like this. But she was not.

She gave him a sweet smile. "Sorry...but I have better things to do." she said.

The man did not seem to like 'no' for an answer and made a grab for her. Fara're was far to fast for the man, even if he had been sober. She easily dodged his grab and her own hand stuck out as quick as lightning. She struck him right between the eyes with a solid hit. His eyes went crossed and he looked dazed for a moment before falling to the ground unconsious.

Those watch quickly turned their backs to her, but for the most part no one seemed to take notice. She made the rest of the way to the bar unhindered. She took a seat near Chet and ordered a mug of water for herself. She exanched her coins for the drink and took a small sip.

Hearing a laugh from beside him somewhere, the intoxicated Molegrik peered to his right. There was a new man there, downing his own drink and laughing at something across the room. The huge man turned all the way around on his stool, nearly falling off in the process, only to see another drunk on the floor and a shady man in his seat. Molegrik snorted at this, figuring the drunk had been pushed out. He turned again to look at the laughing man and found that a woman had entered. An attractive one as well, but judging from the way some of the customers were eyes her and a man sprawled out on the floor, she was most likely to much to be worth the trouble. Not that Molegrik thought he had a chance. Women were beyond him. He figured it had something to do with his arm.

Molegrik turned back to the counter and drained his latest drink. Something in the back of his mind told him he was finally reaching his limit and should start to slow down on the drinking. His pleasant buzz had multiplied and he was barely even able to realize that he was, in fact, a drunken idiot at the moment.

Setting his tankard down, he waved the bartender away sloppily. Not only was he reaching his drinking capacity, but he also had reached his money limit. His purse was a dry as his gullet was wet. “Damn,” he mumbled drunkenly. He was officially broke and out of a job at the moment as well. Perhaps one of the tenants here would be able to provide him with one. Like the pretty lady.

Wobbling a great deal, he stood up off of his stool and slowly took a step forward. Of course, the tavern wanted to mess with him and it decided to start swaying ever so slightly, making his steps seam awkward. No fault of his of course. After a few more steps, and a good many more bumps from other drunks, he finally made his way to the stool beside the dark haired lady.

“Even,” he mumbled. “Sorry ta bosher yu ma’am…” he started sloppily, “But I couldn’ helb bu’ notish that’ ya be alone.” Molegrik shook his head and brought his iron arm up to his forehead. Perhaps he had exceeded his limit by one or two. “Wondern why? Perty woma’ like ya selfs people coul try n’ rop yous. You nee’ a guard?” If he was sober he would have realized how much of an idiot he had sounded. As it was, he thought he had spoken eloquently.

Fara're looks up at the man who addressed her. She stared at him with her emerald eyes for many moments. He was an odd looking person to her. He seemed part golem...

She would have liked to question him and ask about him except he was completely drunk. And she hated drunkness. Alchol smelled terrible to her, sometimes keen senses were not the best thing in the world.

She grimced a little as he spoke. His breath smelled horrid due to the drink he had.

"I am fine," she said. "I can take care of myself and if I wanted a guard, I would want a sober one."

She took a long sip of her nice cool water. Water was really the only thing she drank.

She decided to just ignore the drunk. Best not provoke him or give him reason to stay. She hoped if she just ignored him he would go away. And being somewhat feline ignoring people was something that she could do well.

She just hoped that nothing would happen. The man looked tough. She truely did not know if she could handle him in her current form and hoped she would not be forced to transform.

A smirk crossed Andin’s lips; he had come to the right place. The elf was not as fragile as she looked, the man lying in the floor stood testament to that. She could handle her self, she just lacked finesse. The brutal way she had handled the drunk was effective, if somewhat lacking on the low key side of things. If she wanted to remain unnoticed she was failing miserably. Not only were her ears sticking up from her head, her golden eyes were like beacons saying “look at me”. Plus she was one of the few women in the bar. If she had thought she had gone unnoticed, she was sadly mistaken.

But for now she sat quietly at the bar, drinking. The singing was beginning to die down some, as was the drinking. The one with the metal arm had appeared to cease his rounds as well. It seemed that the time to get a closer view had come. Light blue lines ran a jagged pattern across his body. As suddenly as the lines had appeared, they disappeared. So had he.

Andin didn’t want to waste too much energy simply moving from place to place. He had already done that simply getting here, so he resigned himself to walking to the bar stool three seats down from the elf. He silently made his way through the bar, avoiding all the drunken idiots in his way. As he approached the back of the elf he felt a slight breeze and quickly stepped back as the huge man with the metal armed man filled the space where he had just stood. He seated himself on the stool next to the elf, and then began to babble like a fool.

Andin continued his path for the stool. Arriving he seated himself, and a faint blue glow later he appeared on the stool, as if he had been there the whole time. He listened in on the “conversation” taking place next to him. Apparently the huge man wanted a job as a body guard for the elf. That was going to go over well. But it seemed she didn’t mind to much, she just didn’t want his help, and obviously wanted him to go away. Aparently her tatic for this was to simply ignore him. Andin smirked. ‘Let’s see how that tactic works on a drunk, lady.'

Andin reached down to the counter attempting to grab his mug. He looked back to his old table. There sat his drink. ‘Damn it.’

Chet was becoming increasingly amused by the circumstances which had begun to unfold in the tavern in the last few minutes. A very cute elf had come in to sit next him, much to Chet's pleasure. The large metal-armed drunk had tried his best to flirt with her, but in his state he had only made a fool of himself. The elven woman was trying to ignore, a cute tactic which of course would prove futile against the likes of a drunk like this metal-armed thug.

Chet noticed that she was drinking only water. He was impressed to see such strong willpower from a lady who clearly had every right to be stressed and in desperate need of some alcohol, with the annoying drunks surrounding her and all. Normally, Chet was not the type to strike up conversations with strangers, especially with such attractive ones as this elf, however his fuel of alcohol had given him a new artificial courage as he was feeling a good buzz. "It takes a rare specimen to come into a bar like this one and drink only water." He said to her. The words sounded much more clever and sophisticated in his head than when the spoke them aloud. However, he was confident that he appeared at least to be very much in control of himself and his behaviour, unlike the other drunks in here. Hopefully she would pick up on this and respond favourably to his comment. Chet also hoped the metal-armed man wouldnt interfere too much with his attempt to converse with the elf. However, these things seemed to have a way of screwing with Chet, he was never the lucky one...

Her green eyes feel upon Chet as he adressed her. It seemed she was quite popular with the drunks tonight... At least this one still seemed sober enough to talk right. And he was much better looking than the others...

Fara're decided it was time for her to have a bit of fun. She took another sip of her water before turning a little to face the man. She rested her chin in her hand and gave him a sweet smile.

"A rare specimen?" she asked. She smirked a little, "You have no idea how accurate that statement is."

She wondered if he would say the same thing to her if he ever found out she was really a were-tiger. She was a rare specimen indeed.

It was starting to get a little warm in the tavern so she decided to take off her cloak. When she did this it revealed the fact that she was wearing a short tunic that showed off her well muscled stomach. Her well toned arms were bare and had not jewlery. She also wore shorts instead of pants. A leather strap was tired around one of her thighs with a dagger hanging from it. She had a chocker tied around her neck with a small charm hanging from it. She seemed perfectly comfortable dressed like this and did not seem to care about the men who were staring at her.

She looked back to Chet her green eyes sparkeling.So...what brings one like you to Taras?" she asked. "Has to be for more than just a good drink or two. Oh, I am Fara're by the way" she said with a wink.

She tossed back some of her raven black hair, causing it to catch the light and shine a bit. She gave him another one of her dazzeling smiles showing off her white teeth. She so enjoyed flirting with cute men.

Taras was cold, wet, and more depressing than usual for Melmoth as he walked the streets in his constant search. Taras had never yielded much of worth before, but as the price for not finding a willing person was so high, leaving any stone unturned was out of the question. Taras, a huge swarming mass of life, was too large to ignore for long. True, small villages and farming districts had provided much better prospects, once the residents learned what was going on they usually brought in Imythess's religious military wing.

Dealing with the zeal of the paladins for heresy was a most unpleasant business, one Melmoth avoided as often as possible. He had a few tricks up his sleeve, and never stayed around long enough for the irons to fully warm up. Just normal hazards of the job. In a city, it was easier to go unnoticed and religious deviation was less deadly. You could curse the gods without too much fear the man next to you was going to call in the paladins to reeducate you.

Melmoth's musing stopped. Something he had been feeling for the last few minutes had finally sunk in. A mental itch both dreaded and longed for had been scratching at the edge of his consiousness, and he had almost missed it.

Now to find that special person. Melmoth adjusted his soaking hat and looked around. He was near the recently renamed Elfsong Tavern, and not too far from the library. Untill he found his target, it would be a game of walking around and reacting to his feeling untill he found him. When he was close, the maddening itch would go down, disappearing when he found the person, and getting worse when he was farther away.

Looking once towards the library, and once towards the tavern, Melmoth experienced a moment of indecision, before choosing the tavern. The library be damned, at least the tavern would be warm.