Thread: Ironfang Invasion: [Erotic, IC]

Phaendar - Town Square A vast number of townsfolk and travelers, eager for a bit of a celebration, gather within the town square of Phaendar, The Market Green. Rows upon rows of colorful caravans decorated with fanciful signs, small toys, and celebratory fabrics line the square, while dozens of tables beneath tall canopy tents fill the area. At one table, dozens of children play with ornate, hand-crafted dolls bought from a travelling gnomish toymaker, while at another, the elderly population of Phaendar gossip gleefully. Dozens of happy townsfolk mix and mingle with foreigners over drinks while a small comedy puppet show blares upon a makeshift stage, performing primarily to some of the older children of Phaendar, although much of the audience appears only somewhat entertained by the rather childish performance. Overworked concessions managers sell salty confectioneries and warm cocoa drink, alongside bitter alcohol, good for keeping the cold away. It is peaceful in Phaendar, pleasant. -- While Lolka remains as popular as ever, attracting the most attention as drunken townsfolk attempt to get their hands and lips upon her curvaceous, beer-glazed form, Anja is approached by another, slightly shier looking individual. The woman draws close, waving a little. She appears rather plain and very pale, with grayish-blonde hair and large, watery blue eyes, her brow constantly furrowed and weighed as if by anxiety, despite the large, crooked smile on her face. While normally, Rhyna, the priestess, could be found in nice-enough, professional attire, she can now be seen clad in what seems to be a plain long-sleeve shirt and a slightly tattered blue dress, a little bit of cleavage revealing a pair of small, freckled breasts. H-hello there, enjoying yourself? -- Phaendar - The Taproot Inn Some of the more disreputable members of the town, eager for company and the warmth of a fiery hearth and good drink, gather within the one tavern and inn located within Phaendar, the Taproot Inn. In one corner, a table of out-of-towners gamble pieces of platinum and gold over dice games, while an attractive, ginger halfling travels from lap to lap, while in another, several workers on break take turns throwing darts, a few lower-class courtesans beside them. An exotic elven fortune-teller clad in brightly colored Varisian garb sits waiting for a customer, and the full-figured barkeep, Jet, scurries about while her servers frantically ferry drink and food to the four oak tables within the inn. For once, even the most eccentric of travellers would fail to stand out against the crowd of the bustling Taproot Inn. The sound of tankards clanking on tables and flickering flames burning within the fireplace is interrupted by a particularly loud woman dressed in a chainshirt and robes of glittering green. You recognize the woman immediately as Aubrin the Green, the retired Chernasardo Ranger-turned-Caydenite cleric known for her fantastic and bawdy tales of adventure from her youth. Phaendars Market Festival draws a crowd from all over Nirmathas, many solely to hear Aubrin's infamous stories. Outside, the celebration continues, as raucous shouts carry on the cold night air. Warmed by the firelight after a long day, any levity comes as a welcome reward to the rough, earthy souls of this riverside trade town. So there I am, thinking, when will I ever be able to talk to a bear again? So before the grizzly can stand back up, I turn to it and say, All I need is the honey. You can keep the bees! The room erupts into laughter as Aubrin finishes her winding story and takes another drought from her tankard. But its fine now. Alls good. She named a cub after me. Someday Im going to have to check in on little Ow Oh Gods Thats Too Many Bees. Crowd members share their own boasts and jokes, but eventually someone tops off Aubrins tankard and pushes her back into the center of the room. All right, all right! Dont shove, she slurs a bit.