Cenn_icon.gif Garou_icon.gif Tyce_icon.gif Ranalle_icon.gif Taril_icon.gif

Scene Title A Mixed Crowd
Synopsis An interesting mix of characters in The Hanged Man
Location The Hanged Man
Date 05 Harvestmere, 9:31 Dragon
Watch For A dog with excellent people skills
Logger Taril

It's actually not terribly late, and so the Hanged Man isn't terribly packed just yet. Sure, there are always some clientele in the Lowtown bar, but there is plenty of space. A sweet voiced minstrel plays a lute in the back corner, easy, swaying music that is a nice background to early evening drinking. The front tables have the same gambling they always do, the ghosts of men that haunt the bar at all hours are there per usual. One of the tables on the left side of the building, though, is seated by a group of people that don't always have the time for drinking out in public. A handful of Templars, all out of armor. They might not be obvious if it weren't for the fact that most of them are still in Chantry issue, the sunburst obvious over their backs. It's an easy group, chatting idly, drinking from a shared bottle. But three of the four rise with kind parting, and two of them passing warrior's salutes to their Lieutenant. Patrol hours loomed for them, and thus they made their exit. Leaving the fourth with a still full glass of wine and a faint smile. His clothes aren't Chantry issue, pale blues and rich, natural greens set in heavy, but fine, linen. Sipping at his wine, the Lieutenant takes to watching the room, blue gaze idling settling on the card table near the front. Leaning forward, he sets down his glass, running a hand through blonde hair. Cenn fidgets with a leather cord around his neck until an ironbark halla pendant falls over his shirt, the Templar's fingers tracing over the curves of its carving with the rote reverance one shows to prayer beads.

Taril isn't a stranger to the place, he just hasn't had much time these days. For now his sister is busy, his bear is sleeping (and getting a little big for that bag he's carried her in since she was rescued). He takes a moment to obtain an ale before heading toward one of the empty tables until he spots Cenn. "I know you." Which means he's going to sit there, instead. "I mean, I've seen you. You followed me once." Behold how incredible Taril is with people, and his eyes narrow at that pendant. "…shit. I hope you're supposed to have that thing. I got questions for you and it's real hard to question dead people." The tired slump of his shoulders makes it fairly clear he's not boasting or threatening.

Ranalle was tasked by her Keeper to do some scouting before the clan settles in the area. So of course she was going to explore Kirkwall to get a feel for it. After all, they are going to need to know where to trade. Granted she probably doesn't need to be in the Hanged Man, but color her curious. The ginger Dalish has her vibrant hair braided into a bun behind her neck and covered with a dark green cloak. While her ears are mostly hidden, it's impossible to hide the vallislin on her face. Still she slowly enters the room, looking just a touch lost as she looks at all the people gathered. Someone might be out of her element here.

Now when we are talking about people that are not normally around the Hanged Man drinking one of the names that comes up, would not be Tyce. In truth it's a bit surprising that there hasn't been rent added to his bar tab. Which would be why no one really pays much mind when the dour faced archer and his Mop, walk through the door. A nod to the tender, who is already reaching for a pitcher at the sight of the Ferelden, Tyce has every intention of heading towards the back corner and "his" table, that is if Balai didn't have another plan.

The Mop, being a four footed kind with tons of chocolate colored fur and nose… is quick to pick up a familiar scent, as the mabari sized hound leaves Tyce before he gets more than a few steps in and heads straight for Cenn, ready or not, the Templar is about ready to get a lap full as she flops her head down against his legs.

Cenn blinks as Taril sits down at his table, and tilts his head in curiosity in a gesture that is entirely canine. "If by follow you mean 'escorted someone who needed to speak to you', then yes, I suppose I did." Cenn says, sounding a little confused, the notes of Ferelden still heavy in his accent. There's a deep breath at the question of the pendant. Look, he hadn't really been banking on running into Dalish in the Hanged Man. "It was a gift." He answers simply. It's not entirely true, though, and knowing what kind of pendant that is, Taril may or may not buy it. If there was a threat, Cenn's actually not all that worried about it, though it doesn't seem to come from arrogance. As the door opens the first time, Cenn looks a little surprised. Dalish elves in the city weren't something you saw a lot, much less two unrelated in the same place… Which is what prompts him to look again at Taril. "Is she with you?" He asks, nodding toward Ranalle. Dalish, red hair, honestly it's not that much of a stretch. But then he's distracted by the great, chcoolate mop.

Cenn grins, laughing a little at the hound's exurberance. "Well, hello there, Balai." He says, looking down into his lap. His hand leaves the pendant to reach to scratch behind her ears fondly. Looking up, he tracks for the man that belongs to the dog. And spotting Tyce, he gives him a nod.

"No one gave you that, human." Taril points out. "Tell me there's an honest reason to you having it?" But then the bear cub is trying her best to get a view of Balai and making those greeting noises that are only cute because she's still a baby. "Creators…" The question distracts him and his head tilts as he regards the elf in question. "No one I know." A wave is given the woman and he glances in Tyce's direction even as he tries to get the bear settled. "Enansal, settle. Fine, go say hello." Which means there's now a bear on the floor by the dog. Congratulations, Cenn. You've attracted a petting zoo.

The last thing Ranalle expected to see in a Shem tavern was a bear cub. She hesitates when she is waved to, but finally apporches the table with Cenn and Taril. "Had I known that animals were so freely welcome I would have brought my own." Folding her hands behind her back she looks the two men over. "I didn't expect to see another Dalish here, but I heard there was another clan in the area."

There are few people that Tyce would allow Balai to detour him from his evening of drunk and passed out, so at first the archer tracks his big brown over excitable mop towards the table with that typical sour expression that tends to sit on his scruffy face. However its not that he ever look really happy, but that I could murder you for simply looking at me funny, expression fads at the sight of Cenn. Maybe it's because he carried the Templar home or was the cause to have to carry the Templar home.. or maybe and much more likely, it's because by crossing to the table with Cenn and the elf sit, that it would piss the hell out of Davan, whatever the reason Tyce turns his steps towards the table. Which of course means the server following with the clay pitcher and tankard changes her route as well to follow behind.

Balai wallows in the ear scratches, her great tail thudding against the table and possibly Taril as she greets Cenn. The greetings of the cub going completely unnoticed at first, it's not until the other creature is down on the floor and demanding attention that the big dog turns to investigate, nose pushing at the bear before she simply flops down beside it. (pose correction)

Templars have odd hours of 'down time'; when one works on a system that is the closest Thedas comes to a 24-hour clock, one takes what free time is given and holds on with both hands. So when this bunch of sour-beer-smelling Templars relieved Rou from duty, he took just enough time to make sure they weren't actually too drunk to do their damn jobs and then made his escape. Evenings Valentin had to teach the older apprentices and those mages trying to gain a specialty were actually the worst. So rather than sit in his room alone, he disrupted Valentin's class long enough to deposit a very squirmy lionette cub into a very please apprentice-lap and slipped out into the bustle of Kirkwall in her early evening hours. That's less fun than it sounds like it could be, so coming into the Hanged Man? This poor bastard is ready for a drink. "Rumor has it the dwarf twisted your arm into stocking some palatable mead," he rumbles at the 'tender when asked for his order. There's a grunt in response, but the man gets his mead - such as it is - and proceeds to duck around Tyce and the server both (because of course the obnoxious Orlesian dual-wielder moves in full armor like he's fucking dancing. Of course. The bastard.) Why the maneuver? Well, there's actually one person in this establishment right now with a solid chance of being enjoyable instead of tedious and Garou is going to sit next to him. "Lieutenant." Not that you'd be able to tell he enjoys Cenn's company. At least it's a neutral greeting. That's more than most people get.

Great. Fantastic. Precisely how Cenn wanted this conversation to go. The Lieutenant sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose, shakes his head. He's about to answer, too, when there is suddenly a bear. That makes him blink, looking under the table with more than a little curiosity. Enough curiosity, in fact, that Ranalle gets little more than a nod as greeting. Talk of Clans isn't his business anyway. "You named her 'gift?'" It's muttered, the question, but it's there nevertheless. Halla pendant, understanding elven, this guy had some weirdness going on, that's for sure.

Though Tyce's arrival gets him to lift his eyes, and even smile just a little. Taking the (hopefully, anyway) opportunity, Cenn slips the pendant back under his shirt. Maybe that will be the end of it, maybe. But all this business of dogs and bears and people, he doesn't notice Garou walk in. In fact, he doesn't notice the other Templar until he's sitting down and saying hello. "Garou." The other Lieutenant might be neutral in his greeting, but Cenn is not, there's a friendly warmth in that name, and it seems Cenn doesn't mind at all when the seat beside him is occupied.

Taril blinks at Cenn and he's at least good enough at adding things together that he'll either ask again later or he's put the matter to rest in his head. It's always a little bit of a toss up. To Ranalle, he shrugs. "Not quite. They'll pass through here eventually." Not that it's surprising that he's not giving a solid time frame. You just don't when there are humans around. "Taril Lavellan." He turns a confused look back toward Cenn. "Of course I did. She nearly died because some shem dealer saw coin in her hide. Someone gave her life back to her." The bear in question isn't quite the baby she used to be, but she apparently still adjusts for room on that scale because she noses Balai in return before trying to settle UNDER Cenn's chair. Enjoy the jostle. As for those new people? "Who're you?" That's directed at both Tyce and Garou. Not rudely, he just doesn't have the people skills that introductions would require.

"Of course." Ranalle says lightly getting the gist of what he's not saying. "Ranalle Sabrae." She responds when Taril introdueces himself and looks to the others as they join the table. "Ehm, is there room for another? I dod not wish to intrude if this is a gathering I was not invited to." While she might not have the best social skills, she is at least polite.

Garou passes him and Tyce pauses, that table is getting awefully full for a man that doesn't like to people. Cenn's smile however has the man sighing before, short nails scratching at the scruff on his jaw before the last few steps are taken. "Cenn, evening." the man's voice like a raw wound or ground glass soaked in whiskey as he nods to the Templar, ice cold eyes taking in the man sitting at his side before biting off a. "Garou." glancing to the two Dalish but not answering either.

Now here's the thing, Tyce may not like to people but Balai she is all about it. Those she knows and those she doesn't as if there isn't any of the former around. But there are… and as interesting as the cub is, the big dog's head comes up as Garou settles onto a chair, the Mop standing to suddenly press her head into his chest from under the table.

Garou's patience for people with an inability to observe the bare minimums of social grace which are - if he is quite honest - the only thing keeping this place from being entirely irredeemable is… well, actually pretty nonexistant. So when Taril blurts out his question, the Knight Lieutenant turns a slow stare on the ginger elf that is the picture-book definition of unimpressed. He doesn't answer - at least certainly no further than the information that has already been provided if one can read into context clues at all - simply stares until he loses interest entirely. At that point Garou allows himself to be distracted by the mead in his cup. "Disappointing," he murmurs, glancing from the drink to Cenn, though the gentle edges of his Orlesian accent have obviously been softened by proximity to something else - Ander, perhaps? At any rate, he is at least equally unimpressed by the spatially-challenged bear rooting around beneath their table. Ranalle's approach to the whole situation, by contrast, is quite pleasant and he turns to look up at her with his crooked little smile - stormy eyes crinkling at their corners - and a gallant wave of one hand to the empty seat on his other side. "By all means, my lady. Such a lovely creature could hardly be unwelcome, no matter the occasion." And the fact that Tyce has learned his name - after what could only be charitably described as a frosty set of exchanges in Hightown while on-duty - is mildly concerning, but he's not given a chance to think about it all that much before there is a mop in his face. Much as he is not Tyce's biggest fan, Garou actually really likes this dog, so his smile turns into an all-out grin and the mead is left on the table to free up both hands to rub at floppy ears. Priorities.

"I see." Cenn says to the cub's name, but as she clambers under his chair, Cenn looks down and crinkles his nose. There's a shift of his weight to allow the cub to settle down without having to fight against his body weight on the chair, and then he too settles back down. He's pretty indulgent with animals. Well, with a lot of things, usually. However…

Okay, look, Cenn is… He is not the best Orlesian in the world, let's be honest. He's too fond of dwarven ale, he was too honest, he liked dogs too much, for fuck's sake, he'd picked up a Ferelden accent. But Taril gets levelled with a look from Cenn as well. It's not as passive as Garou's, but it is just as Orlesian. But when Garou simply looks away, Cenn sighs. If they were in Orlais, he'd probably say something more, give some sort of introduction that was laced in at least a little sass, but not here. No, he just shakes his head. He turns back to his wine, and seems glad of Garou inviting Ranalle to the table. "Good evening to you as well, Tyce." He says, "How have you been?"

Taril watches the actions accommodating the bear, and thinks his words over. "Alright. If my sister were here, she'd do this better. I'm not really good at talking to people I don't know. So if I gave offense, I apologize." Look, that all took effort, so give him a second for the rest. "There's a thing I need to ask the person you were with. If she's willing. If you could pass the message, I'd be in your debt." At least Ranalle has a better grasp at people.

"Thank you." Ranalle says as she takes the offered seat and settles in. Pushing the hood back from her face she gets a proper look at the room and gives a faint smile. For several moments she listens to the conversation going on around her, trying to get a feel for these new people. "Well I have heard stories that my kind are not always welcome, but perahps this is just a rumor I have heard from other areas in Thedas. So far everyone has been.. polite."

Stepping aside to let the server set the pitcher and tankard on the table, he can carry it over to his own table when he is ready to move. Tyce takes the time to study the two elfs, as he knows neither. A small snort and the man stands the bow he carries against the table edge so as to pour his own cup. Lets not try to explain if one catched a glance, exactly what the drink looks like, instead just be known that a slightly sour smell seems to rise from the cup as the drink is poured. So lets just call it a action of grace and good breeding that the man does NOT offer any of the drink to the others at the table. Pale eyes lifting back to Cenn with a grunt. "Suprisingly….alive. You would think there would be at least one decent shot around here." hand lifting to rub at his shoulders as he glances again at Garou and his attention slut of a Mop before grunting. "For her sake, I wanted to thank you. Please pass likewise to Valentin." his cup rising to take a deep pull.

And while this goes on? Balai.. she is perhaps the happiest of this little gathering. With her huge head pressed in against Garou, there is not so much as a whine or whimper from the dog, only sound being the steady thump thump thump of her tail against the underside of the table. However, that is not to say it isn't easy to see that she is in bliss as her ears are scratched and rubbed against… that much wiggle in that much dog is simply undeniable.

"She?" That's enough of a surprise to have Rou leaning around the mop half-occupying his lap with an arched brow in Taril's direction. "She?" He breaks into low laughter then and shakes his head, entirely more charming than anyone should be while wearing that armor. "Apologies, but you must have him confused with another blonde puppy clanking about in our armor. Maker only knows there are several." Though none of the others would get anything so much like the fondness Garou cannot keep entirely out of his expression when he glances over at Cenn - though at least it's mixed with conspiracy as though the other Lieutenant is already in on the joke. He lets his attention be pulled away long enough to nod toward Tyce - having been the guard for that particular session of healing, he's at least got a good enough idea what that's about, but really he's just going to rub at puppy ears and let that be his contribution on that score.

You know, Cenn had been perfectly happy to go back to his wine. Even to smiling kindly at Ranalle. "The Hanged Man is sort of a place for all sorts." He answers her with a small shrug, "And you've been lucky with finding this particular table when it comes to politeness." Or, well, at least for some of them. Because… Well, then there is thinly veiled messages from Taril and Cenn's eyes widen. The look at this levelled on the elven man then is downright cross, flaring with anger for a moment before he can collect himself with a deep breath that is exhaled with a huff. His mouth opens to give a response when Garou laughs. Oh… Oh he hadn't even thought about that implication.

Cenn sighs, "No, Garou, he's talking about me. I know, great surprise to us all." Because he was NOT going to explain what that was ACTUALLY about here and now. Not out in public. Nope. Couldn't pay him enough. But his tone is, different, just a little off, with a touch of overconfident braggart that doesn't fit, the hint left out to promise answers later. It does, also, give him enough time to collect his senses before answering Taril, who he turns to again. "Yes, I… Will let her know." He says with a nod, and leaves it at that, raising a brow then at Tyce. "You went and got yourself shot, then?"

Taril nods, at least aware enough of that situation to accept the answer for what it is. Ranalle's statement earns a shrug. "It depends. Some treat you like a person, some ignore you, and to some you're just a painted knife ear." Now he can give Cenn a nod of thanks and he might have been about to offer an apology except there's that smell and his eyes cross for a moment. "Creators… wait, you were there when those slavers attacked." This is said to Tyce. "I recognize your dog now. I didn't see you get shot."

"I am not sure "got" myself shot is an accurate discription. I was actually just sitting minding my own buisness." growls Tyce, stills tanding at the side of the table, watching the dog as she lifts her face and up to Garou's and shows her appreciation for his attentions with a tongue across his nose and cheek. That's Balai for you, the more someone might butt heads with Tyce, the more she seems to like him. The Taril is turning towards him and those cold blue eyes turn towards the man, as he tries to place him in the chaos of the memory only to nod slowly as he is placed. "There was more important things to worry about." that harsh growl actually softening a little before nods again. "Tyce…. Arundel."

"I've been keeping a low profile and out of areas where I will stick out. I've yet to be called a knife ear, so I consider myself to be lucky. Either way I have found my last few days here to be very educational." Turning toward the others she narrows her brows. "Slavers? Is that a big problem in this area?" THat would be useful information after all. "It's good to know that all sorts are welcome here." She says to Cenn with a bright smile.

"You dog," Rou laughs out at Cenn, elbowing him easily in the bicep to complete the communication. "Walk me home and I'll trade you good brandy for that tale." Message received. Face kisses from the pupper get a more genuine laugh as Garou instinctively turns his head away, but there's no more complaint than that. He does, however, shift the petting to one hand so he can take up his mead again. "Surely, lady, you've heard the moniker? It's the City of Chains you're drinking in. Slavers ought to be a given, though they're certainly not the only infestation."

"Faults of my Ferelden upbringing, surely." Cenn quips back to Garou, smirking, though to those who know him better, it's a shallow, hollow thing. But the nod that follows is agreement to Garou's terms. Answers would come then. Looking up to Tyce again, Cenn nods to the chair nearest him. "You know, you can sit, Tyce. The chair won't bite, I don't think." As to slavers, well… Others have that topic covered. This fucking city had more problems than slavers, but that would come out in the end on its own, surely.

"They were from Tevinter. I recognized the accent but it's the first time I've run into slavers here. At least ones that've tried to take anyone." Taril grins as Tyce's name is given. "I don't know, if I were that chair I'd bite you for bringing that near me. It smells like something the Avvar would drink. It's goat's milk?" There's more amusement than disgust in his tone, though he's looking at the drink like it might crawl out of the glass and growl at them all. Finally his gaze goes to the Templars present and he looks between Cenn and Garou like a dog watching a tennis match for a second. Finally, he seems to connect something and his gaze settles on Garou. "You're Orlesian." It apparently explains a few things for him. "Ir Abelas, if I had known I would have made a better introduction. I've met a few merchants from there." Which is comparing raisins to oranges with this person, but it's SOME frame of reference.

"I have, I just haven't had it directed toward me yet." However she feels it'll be inevitable if she hangs around enough Shems. "I have heard a little of the city's past, but what other infestations would I have to worry about?" Smirking she looks to the free chair and shrugs. "I thought a chair had bit me once, but I had accidently sat on a cat. I've learned to look where I am sitting from now on."

Glancing to Balai where she finally sighs and flops her head down onto Garou's lap, nose twitching as she sniffs at Ranalle sitting beside him. Tyce's gaze slips from the puppy drama to Cenn then the chair that he offers, hand scratching at the back of his head before the archer catches a leg with the toe of boot and settles into the seat. Not that he is overly enthusiastic about the table of people, but the man was raised considerably better than he tends to let on. Turning his attention back to Taril, there is a nod. "Aye, that they were." growled out but then there is the comment about the drink and a low rumbling something that sounds sort of like broken glass being grounded together comes from the man. The amusment in those cold eyes about the only thing to identify that raw sound as a chuckle. Maybe it's that drink that makes his voice sound as if it has been broken beyond repair? "Aye goats milk.. mixed with local shine." A side glance to Cenn, the amusment growing as he drains the tankard.. oh did he mention the goat milk was fermented as well? probably what that smell is. Setting the tankard aside for the monent, Tyce pulls the pouch that hands against one hip, two thick pieces of jerky pulled free. One of course is pushed across the table towards Garou since the Templar is the current pillow for the Mop, the other help up to Taril with an arched brow and a side ways glance to the fur rug under Cenn's chair.

"It is good to hear you admit to such failings, my friend." And though it is absolutely the response anyone who'd ever overheard them together would expect from Garou, he actually doesn't sound all that enthused to be giving it. "It is the first step to recovery, so I am told." But that should at least conclude the matter and he is ready to simply drink his mead and pet his favorite dog, but then Taril makes that valiant attempt to salvage Garou's opinion of him and that… "We both are," he replies, unable to hide the way his nose wrinkles in painfully feline distaste over this comparison to merchants. "Had it taken you so long to realize this truth about Lieutenant d'Argent, you could perhaps be forgiven. He does mix his signals so. But me?" And here his sharp amusement turns bitter and barbed. "It took you this long to label the Prideless Lion as Orlesian? Were you dropped on your head as an infant?" He looses a disgusted noise from the back of his throat, but who exactly it's aimed at is anyone's guess. He'll take that jerky, though, and break it into pieces for the puppy face in his lap. That's about all he's got left.

Taril, you are batting a thousand today, buddy. But unlike Garou and his barbs, Cenn, for a moment, just looks sad. He looks down into his wine, shakes his head, is distracted for a moment by a glance from Tyce. His gaze flickers to Tyce's drink, and he pulls a face that says that bad life choices had been made at one time. He would not be repeating that one. Then, though, then… He looks legitimately surprised, and looks at Garou, honestly appearing more concerned than anything. His hand goes to the other Lieutenant's shoulder, though it is armor clad, and he raises a brow.

Taril looks a little confused. "I was born silent, but we'd never drop one of our children. If you're a noble, I've never met one, so I wouldn't know the difference based on your speech." Not that he seems bothered by the noise. Instead, he takes the bit of jerky and makes a noise meant to call the bear to him. "Come out gently, you don't want to knock anyone over." But then Tyce is explaining what's in that thing and he makes such a face. "Creators, do you hate your liver so much? It'll come out one night and beat you around the face." He's joking, clearly, but then there's Ranalle's cat story. "Mine was hornets. …and I knocked the nest down. It's very hard to explain yourself when you're that swollen in the face." The bear, for her part, manages to wiggle out from under Cenn's chair with a minimum of jostling this time. She even takes a second to grumble something that must be the bear version of 'sorry' before making her way to her elf to place her paws on his knees to prop herself up and rest her head on his thigh. Apparently it's time for cuteface.

There is a dog suddenly at her lap and Ranalle looks down fondly. "Greetings sir." SHe says, before giving the dog a few scratches behind the ear. Hearing the hornet story, she has to laugh as well. "I am surprised you were able to talk at all. Or walk for that matter." She give sone lets pet to the dor before she gets to her feet. "Sadly I must be on my way, I only stopped in for a quick look and I must continue on my journey. It was a pleasure to meet all of you."

That chuckle of Tyce's continues for a moment at the look from Cenn though the archer doesn't push that any further. Instead glancing to the other Templar only to narrow his gaze at the barb. Leaning forward, the pitcher retrieved, tankard filled. "Don't worry Garou, he.." glances toward Taril with an arched brow. ".. just wasn't paying all that much attention. I knew you were Orlesian the first time you opened your mouth and looked at me like you would like to crush me under your heel." and yes… that was Tyce's best attempt at trying to sooth over the Lieutenant's pain. Perhaps when one choose to live in pain, helping others through theirs is not all that easy. Drawing another drink, he doesn't really get into what one has sat on, simply chuckling to Taril with a slow nod, as he watches the bear. "There are a lot of things I hate, my liver is just one." Balai of course is much better than her human about making it better, delicately taking the bits of dried meat from Garou, the hound lifts her head towards his with another lick, this one.. not the happy over excited I love you kind, but more that soft nuzzly, I am sorry, feel better kind of kisses as the Templar's mood is felt.

"Not anymore." Two muttered words are his only answer to Taril - unmistakably bitter and offered right before downing the rest of his mead. The rest of the jerky is dropped to the ground for Balai and he reaches one hand up to squeeze at Cenn's where it rests on his shoulder, but that doesn't stop him from rising. "I've changed my mind, I think some sea air would do me good. I'll leave the brandy out." It's the only invitation Cenn gets - and the only farewell he even attempts before he is up and out of there, gone as swiftly as he came.

"Yes, you have." Cenn corrects Taril, then. But well, perhaps its unfair. Saying they had 'met' before might be a little much. Nevertheless, his friend is obviously distressed now, and Cenn's brow wrinkles with concern as Garou rises. Leaving a few coins on the table, he rises after the other Lieutenant. "Tyce, Taril." It's his only parting, save the nods that come along with each name. Then he's moving toward the door with long, quick strides.

Oh come on, humans. There's only so much confusion you can give this elf. "Are you going to say you're one, now? I knew there was something off about your accent but…" Taril sighs, rubbing at the area behind the bear's ears. "Animals are so much easier to understand." He grins at Tyce. "Ma serannas, but I think it's a lost cause with that one. Not that I know him, and not that I think it matters. I apologized, I didn't need him to accept it or understand how confusing it is to keep track of where humans are from based on how they sound. The only reason I knew those slavers were from Tevinter is because I'd heard the accent and had it identified."

Tyce watches as Garou stands, Balai dropping from his lap to allow it, her nose nudging him before she cleans up the bits of jerky on the floor. There is no surprise as Cenn stands, nodding towards the man as he moves to follow. "Take care." growled out as the man finishes his second tankard, watching both Templars head out the door then turning his gaze back to Taril. "Where we are from, us humans, and what we are, it's is a core of how we identify ourselfs." glancing into his own drink, glowering for a moment. "When we loose that, find ourselves displaced, it can be a wound that does not heal." taking another sip then looking back up at the elf about the same time that Balai's nose poked from under the table at him and the bear, sniffing at them both. The archer snorts a bit at the Mop's antics but meets Taril's eyes. "And you are not expected to know a noble born sitting in armor in a Lowtown tavern." the smirk that comes with that saying there is something in that he is not saying.

"So you say. Apparently not everyone has that opinion. I've heard people from Ferelden, so I know that accent. Merchants from different places. …a few I've picked up since I found myself in this place. It's a lot to keep track of. I don't know how you manage it. I have to know 'I'm Dalish, and this is my clan'. Dhani could have navigated this, but she's hunting now." Taril shrugs. "That I can understand, I suppose. Wounds that don't heal. It doesn't matter that I didn't know it was there if I poked it. This is why I like animals." He gives a grin to Balai. "They're much easier to understand and they accept much easier."

There is a toothy grin at the comment that Taril recognizes Ferelden, more because Tyce knows that the ruin of his voice makes it harder than most to hear the accent in his speech. "You know what you have grown being taught. Same was we do. Taril, Garou is a prickly." say the pot. "Yes you poked the wound. You apologized." then sets his cup down. "Tell me about your clan, then. If that is what you know. What is a Dalish elf doing in Kirkwall?" not answering about the animals, there is no reason too, especially with Balai bridging that gap.

"There's not much to tell. We're traders, we try to avoid trouble with humans as much as we can. Most of us learn how to not break social rules, but…" Taril stops as the bear begins working her way into his lap. She's getting a little big for it but he'll probably never tell her no. "I was never good at keeping them all straight." And then there's the question of what he's doing here and he hesitates. "I … ran into slavers and got caught trying to keep them off the trail of my clan." Which isn't entirely true, but it has bits of truth in it. "I walked in this direction after I got myself free. I'm just waiting for them to finally make their way here, but my sister worried and came looking for me. It's not much of a story, really."

Tyce nods. "If you have to, you will get better at it. You would be surprised what you can adjust too." looking away, sort of off into tavern not really seeing much of it at all. "At least you have a good reason to be in this pit." comes as that quiet growl. Looking back with a nod. "Your sister and you stuck down in Alienage?" the word coming out with a bitterness that is hard for the man to hide.

"I suppose it's easier for humans and flat ears to adjust to this place. You don't have a good reason to be in it?" Taril shakes his head. "Not really. I sleep there in the vhenadahl when I can. Sometimes I stay in Darktown. I don't feel much like I'm trapped there. Even in a place like this, I'm still Dalish. I hunt, provide food to a few people, and don't bow my head to anyone." He'd make a shitty slave. A really short lived one. "Dhani doesn't like the idea of the alienage, so she doesn't stay there."

"Good for her." his growl low before looking back, nodding about where he has been staying and what he wont do. There is a glint of respect there in the cold eyes of the ranger. "Sure I do. I am running." said with something of a self directed sneer. "Is there really any better reason to be stuck inside the walls of this place?" lifting his cup to take a drink but setting it back down before he does. "If you need anything.."

It's the question of a better reason earns an anguished look but Taril hides it in finishing off his ale. "I suppose that's true. Probably even from the people who call themselves nobles." He tucks the bag around the bear's body, shifting her into it and earning not so much as an opened eye. "Lazy bear." He sighs and then begins to stand. "Same, even if it's not animals with fur you need hunted. This place… this place is full of them. Surrounded by them."

Tyce stands as he does.. if he saw the look of pain, he doesn't say anything but drops enough coin to pay for both their drinks, reaching for the bow that leans against the table. "Evocati Headquarters, just ask for me." his glaze settling on the bear then lifting to Taril. "Hunting or drinking or whatever." hand reaches out to clasp the other man's shoulder before dropping with a small gesture that brings Balai to his heel. "Be safe, Taril."

"Dareth shiral." Taril replies in parting. "We'll run into eachother again. And if you look for me in the center of the alienage, I'll probably find you." Which may not make much sense, but that's Taril. Now he's going to exit with his bear and probably head outside the city to breath air that doesn't come from inside the walls.

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