Thread: Pynti-Peldot

Name Nickname Brynne daughter of Bastian. Race Human. Attire Black, empire-waisted, long-sleeved dress with red and gold trim black leather boots. Weapon Dagger . Location Pynti-Peldot inside the Inn of the Snowy Eagle. Tagging Anyone Celeste, Vaemyr, Teemu, Bremven sees Racoan, Maranwe. Time TA 3018, March 1, evening. Brynne stood there, her dark eyes wide yet blinking rapidly as she stared at the man before her on his knees. She glanced over and up at Vaemyr and then at the rest of the onlookers as they crowded around them, their expressions and silence causing her muscles to clench. Biting down on her lower lip, she rocked back on her feet, her hands reaching to grasp tightly to the fabric of her skirts as she stood there feeling uncertain and feeling the uneasy tension building among the patrons as they stood there. To think that only moments ago everyone had been enjoying the warmth of the fire and the merriment of the music. Unsure of what to do, but unable to move from where she stood, Brynne's dark eyes darted about the room. As the deafening silence grew in its intensity, her gaze shifted from face to face of all the patrons that had gathered about the unfolding scene. Fingers twirling through long, dark locks, she could feel a nervousness rising deep in the pit of her tummy. She cleared her throat just then, a soft sound amidst the quiet, her mouth drier than the ashen wastes of Mordor. In vain, she licked her lips, a chill running along her spine, made worse as the door opened letting in a biting wind from frigid air in the black night outside. She shivered, watching the burly man rise up from the outer part of the crowd, making his way toward the piper on his knees. Before Brynne knew it--thwack! The sound of fist against jaw, knuckles hitting jaw, rung in her ear. She let out a tiny yelp and stumbled backward almost losing her footing. Everything was happening so fast, her heart racing at what had just happened, her anxiety rising as the crowd about them let out a roar, their voices breaking the silence that had entranced them all. Name Nickname Maranwe Winterborne Maran. Race Elf Noldor. Attire Grayish-blue, empire-waisted, long-sleeved dress dark blue cloak brown leather boots. Weapon Dagger , bowarrows . Location Pynti-Peldot inside the Inn of the Snowy Eagle. Tagging Anyone. Time TA 3018, March 1, evening. Maran sat in her chair, her body shivering from the residual cold. She blew hot breath against her hands in an attempt to warm them, wringing them together to help circulate the blood as her heart pumped and her body soaked up the heat of the fires she sat next to. Sitting quietly, she was a stark contrast to the patrons milling about, her lithe elven form so different from the Lossoth. She wondered if any of her kind had ventured into the frozen wastes given the news that had reached Rivendell. Considering how close Lindon was, her curiosity on the matter was piqued, however given the tension in the room and the people crowding about at the moment--and the strange silence--those were questions for another time. Suddenly, Maran's ears perked up, hearing the sound of a crack of flesh against flesh. She gasped loudly, immediately standing up as her thoughts were plagued by the slaughter of her family by the goblin horde. Her face contorted as fear and panic set in, her one hand clutching at her cloak. She looked toward the nearest window, her eyes peering out toward the sky. Silently, she longed for the stars, for peace to find its way to the inn, to these people. No more blood... no more violence. Maran's eyes clamped shut for a moment and when she opened them they stung with tears threatening to spill down her her pale cheeks.