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<Orlann> ::The Wayfarer's Rest is recommended to Orlann as he enters Wheloon as a relatively cheap, comfortable inn. Orlann nods and heads in the indicated direction.:: <Orlann> ::The Rest is mostly as described, although the crowd is a little wilder than expected, mostly male and in various states of inebriation. Orlann sighs and takes a room for overnight, carefully counting out the eleven coppers for room and an evening meal:: * Orlann takes a seat in the common room and the serving wench brings him a tankard of ale, some lamb stew, and a chunk of bread. Orlann stares moodily into his dinner. * Tarr lugs about a broad, shallow wooden bucket, going from table to table and retrieving empty dishes to return them to the kitchen. He stops to clear a table across from Orlann, sneaking several glances back at the large, dark man. * Tarr finally approaches Orlann's table, leaving his bucket and wiping his hands off on a rag at his waist. His face is unremarkable save for what looks like a repeatedly broken nose, and his smile is friendly. "Dinner not to your liking, sir? Shall I fetch the server for you?" <Orlann> ::blinks a few times, then looks up:: Oh, I reckon it's right tasty. Jus' got a mite on m'mind. <Tarr> Ahh. ::nods understanding, leaning against an empty chair:: Important business in town, eh? See that a lot. <Orlann> ::shakes his head:: Naw, I ain't stayin'. Movin' on again in the morning. My business is quite a piece from here. <Tarr> ::nodding to Orlann's plate:: You should eat up, then. Keep up your strength. ::he casts a respectful eye over Orlann's muscled arms, and then straightens from the chair, looking around:: Unless-- I'm sorry, don't mean to be jabbering on, here-- you're meeting someone? <Orlann> ::gives the man a quick smile:: No, I ain't. Don't mind th'company, if yer a mind, neither. Been more'n a week before I had much more'n a "hello an' g'bye". <Tarr> ::smiling knowingly:: You sure it's my company you've a mind for, then? ::winks, relaxing back against the chair again:: * Honey enters through the side door and steps onto the low, crude stage to the sudden wild applause of the room's occupants. She is wearing a long cape that hides most of her body, but she is tall and fairly slender, with a pretty round face and short, honey-blonde hair. Her feet are bare, and she has a dozen tiny bells tied around each ankle. * Orlann starts to protest the implications, but is interrupted by the sudden uproar. <Tarr> ::looking guilty:: Can't stay but a moment more, sir, we're not supposed to disturb the show. ::looks up at the stage:: And she's one worth watching, she is. * Honey laughs at the attention and flirts fondly with a few obvious regulars while the minstrel hurriedly tunes his instrument. * Orlann takes a mouthful of stew, then looks up again at the woman on the stage. * Honey scans the crowd professionally, then does a double-take as she spots Orlann's exotic appearance. She gives him a sultry, slow smile as the minstrel begins to play. She throws back her cape to reveal a dress that seems to be made entirely of diaphanous gauze scarves and skin-tight velvet. The men in the room stamp their feet and whistle appreciatively. * Orlann nearly coughs up his mouthful of soup, his dark skin purpling slightly across his cheeks and ears. <Tarr> ::low-voiced:: Begging your pardon, sir, time for me to be about me duties. You enjoy yourself. ::he winks again and straightens, flipping his towel over his shoulder-- a signal visible from the stage-- before going back to his wash-tub full of dishes and disappearing into the kitchen. * Honey winks at Orlann, then swirls into her dance. Every spin lifts the skirts of her dress a little higher, showing a bit more of her shapely legs. The bells around her ankles chime with every step, echoing the driving beat. The audience is soon clapping or stamping in time, letting up a howl of enjoyment with every inch of flesh revealed. * Orlann blushes harder. He drinks a few swallows of his beer to hide his flush, then watches her, his expression slightly tinged with guilt. * Tarr loiters in the shadowed doorway of the kitchens, watching the performance... and Orlann. * Honey finishes the dance to thunderous applause, ignoring a few shouted propositions, and moves smoothly into the next. Somehow, a few scarves become detached from her skirts. As she moves, the gaps offer tantalizing glimpses of her milky skin beneath. (In the audience, the servers bring fresh rounds, unasked-for.) <Honey> ::As the third song begins, Honey moves down off the stage and into the crowd. She goes first to the table of regulars, and dandles the end of a discarded scarf among them, snatching it playfully out of their reach until one of them, quicker than the rest, grabs it. She pulls the winner close and whispers in his ear, then laughs and slips her scarf free again.:: * Orlann takes a second beer without really thinking about it, the dinner long-since forgotten. He doesn't participate in the scarf-snatching, but can't seem to help watching. <Honey> ::Another regular shows her a coin. She takes it, and the man selects a scarf from those remaining on her dress and pulls it free, revealing a little bit more. Now that the trick of it has been displayed, she wanders among all the tables, trading scarves for coins and teasing the watchers with whispers and caresses.:: * Orlann becomes aware that his beer is empty and sets the mug down. He pokes a bit at his tepid stew, the tips of his ears burning, watching the dancer from the corner of his eye. * Tarr catches a server on the way into the kitchen and whispers in her ear, nodding to Orlann's table. A fresh mug of beer makes its way over to him a few minutes later. <Honey> ::As the end of the song approaches, more than half her skirt is missing, the velvet bodysuit underneath all that remains of her modesty. Where, exactly, she's hiding the coins she's collected, is anyone's guess. She passes behind Orlann, and trails a last scarf over his shoulder and around his neck. The song ends, and as the room howls and whistles, she leans down to whisper in his ear.:: The lucky scarf... Don't go too far, handsome. * Orlann coughs on a swallow of stew, taking up his third beer without actually being aware of it. He clears his throat and then looks at the dancer. "Ma'am?" * Honey straightens to acknowledge the applause, laughing serenely as she returns to the stage to collect her cloak. She leaves through the side door, ignoring the calls for her return. * Orlann seems a little more at ease now that the dancer's gone, altho the perfume on her scarf is a bit distracting. He unwraps it from around his neck, then lays it on the table. <Honey> ::A few minutes pass, and the room returns to normal, most of the men settling their bills and heading for home. As things grow quieter, Honey returns. This time she is mostly decently dressed, though her neckline dips low to show off her... advantages. She hands a small purse to the minstrel, and another to the barkeep, then makes her way to Orlann's table.:: Mind if I sit? * Orlann blinks, then nods. "That'd be right fine, ma'am." <Honey> ::laughs delightedly:: "Ma'am"? You don't need to be so formal. ::she sits, rather closer on the bench than entirely necessary:: What's your name? <Orlann> Lieutenant Orlann Drilgar, miss. ::indicates her scarf:: I reckon you might be wantin' that back. * Honey picks up the scarf and drapes it around Orlann's neck again. "You can keep it. I get them five for a copper just down the street a bit. And you look like you could use a little bit of something pretty in your life. Who're you Lieutenant for? Not local, for sure, or I'd've heard of someone as gorgeous as you on our streets." <Orlann> No miss, I ain't from 'round here. ::he blushes again:: I'm on a bit of leave from the Dragons, y'ken? <Honey> Not on business, then? ::she leans a bit closer:: You don't seem nearly as happy as a man should be, with a belly full of bread and beer, and a pretty favor on his collar... What's missing? <Orlann> ::sighs:: That obvious, miss? <Honey> ::laughs kindly and pats his arm, somehow forgetting to pull her hand back when she's done:: I know men. Tell me what's troubling you, Orlann. <Orlann> ::sighs again:: Miss m' girl. Reckon it'll be a fair piece before I see her again. Got family business, off east. <Honey> Oh, girl trouble. ::she pauses, watching him:: You think she'll wait for you? <Orlann> ::chews his lip a minute:: I rightly hope so, miss. I rightly do. <Honey> Do you, now? ::she runs a fingertip down his arm:: I could take your mind off your troubles, if you wanted... Tarr told me you were moving on in the morning, your girl wouldn't have to know. * Orlann does an almost comical double-take. "Miss?" <Honey> ::smiles at him, a little wistfully:: Terribly forward, aren't I? I'm not a whore, I promise! The dancing - that's all it is. Girl's got to eat, and I've got family who depend on me, too. But you're sitting here, the most gorgeous man I've seen in a year, and you'll be gone tomorrow, and I'd always regret it if I didn't at least make a try of it. ::she looks directly into his eyes and smiles, slow:: What about it, Orlann? Wouldn't a little companionship be nice, for a night? * Orlann blushes furiously. "I reckon I'm flattered, miss, but... m'girl wouldn't care for it none at all. An' even if she *didn't* know... I would. An' that just ain't right." * Orlann stands up and gives her a quick, sketchy bow, then heads outside to ... ahem. Check on his horse, right. That's it. * Honey watches him go, a little sadly, then sighs and shrugs, and heads back toward the kitchen. * Tarr rolls his eyes a little from his darkened corner as he watches Orlann leave like a man with his pants on fire. * Honey waits in the kitchen for Tarr to catch up to her. * Tarr reenters the kitchen, dumping his washtub into a sink on his way over to talk to Honey. "Too much of a hick to take the bait, hunh?" <Honey> ::sighs dramatically:: Too noble, too honorable... Too recently laid. ::she smiles faintly:: Though I think I might've touched a bit of a nerve. But it looks like we've got to do this the hard way. ::she makes a face:: <Tarr> ::snorts:: That one's been laid? I would've put money on him being a virgin. You should've seen his face when you were dancing. But, well enough. He'll be a good one, I think. You saw his arms? ::rubs his own shoulder, working it limber:: <Honey> ::smugly:: Felt 'em. Oh, he'll be a prize. You'd best be quick and on the mark, though, or he'll cause trouble. <Tarr> ::shrugs and grins a little:: Always am, aren't I? He'll be a moneymaker, he will, but I don't want those hams around *my* neck, thanks. * Honey musses her hair a little, gingerly pulls out the shoulder-seam of her dress, and leads the way toward the alley door. <Tarr> He'll be by the horse-trough, I imagine. You've got the stuff, right? <Honey> ::glances around at the kitchen staff:: Of course. Shut up. ::she smudges her eye makeup, then bursts through the door and stumbles out into the night, sobbing hysterically:: * Tarr takes off his apron and hangs it neatly by the door, revealing darker, night-blending clothing beneath. He slips into his vest and checks hidden pockets with a neatening brush of his palms before heading out after Honey more quietly. * Orlann is leaning against the side of the stables, looking west towards Marsember with a troubled frown. "Oh, darling, this was a *bad* idea." * Honey is running without watching where she's going, and stumbles directly into Orlann. She screams, and stumbles back as if afraid. "No, I said don't-! OH!" She stares at Orlann with wide, wild eyes. "Lieutenant, it's you!" She sobs again, as if in relief, and grabs his arm. "You have to help me!" * Tarr circles quietly but quickly around the far side of the stables, hoping to come up on them unawares. * Orlann blinks in astonishment, helping to steady the somewhat frantic woman. "Miss? What's wrong?" <Honey> ::gasping, in hysterics:: After you left, a couple of- ::she pants, and glances back toward the inn fearfully:: -they didn't want to hear 'no.' ::she sniffles, and tugs at the tear in her dress as if to cover herself:: * Orlann narrows his eyes. "Reckon I ought t' take you home, miss." * Tarr hears their voices and approaches more quietly, moving up behind on soundless feet. <Honey> ::nods quickly, clinging more tightly to his arm:: Oh, yes please, yes... Thank you. I'm so- ::she bites her lip, looking up at him worriedly:: <Orlann> ::pats her arm:: You'll be fine, miss. <Honey> ::sniffs again, her breath coming in quick gasps still:: It's- It's this way... * Orlann nods and keeps up with her, looking around cautiously, * Tarr stops in the shadow of a tree, reaches into his vest, and withdraws a small, black-painted dart. He holds perfectly still as Honey leads Orlann past his hiding-place, confident that the tree disguises his silhouette. * Tarr turns slightly as they pass him, throwing his dart unerringly into the middle of Orlann's back, near the spine. * Orlann gasps and takes a staggering step forward, his face graying. * Tarr approaches quietly, a second dart at the ready, keeping well out of reach of the big man in case he makes a last show of strength. * Orlann swallows a few times and attempts to get back to his feet. <Honey> ::still clutching his arm:: Lieutenant? What is it? What's wrong? ::she steps in front of him and peers up into Orlann's face:: <Orlann> ::pushes her away:: Run! <Honey> ::reaches for Orlann's arm to hold him back:: No, I can't leave you! * Tarr frowns a little and throws the second dart just to be sure, from closer-range. He reaches inside his vest, touching his fingers to a third as he watches. * Orlann shakes his head, falling back to his knees. "Go... poison... go!" * Orlann collapses face-first onto the cobbles. * Honey catches Orlann as he falls, and eases him the rest of the way to the ground. She watches anxiously until his eyes close, then looks toward the shadows and beckons Tarr to join her, grinning widely. |
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