Storm walks into the tavern wearing a long cloak covered in animal furs and using her glaive as a walking stick. She doesn't say a word to anyone but walks up to the bar and takes a seat. She sets her glaive against the bar and waves the bartender over.

"Whatever your strongest drink is, please." Storm sets a gold piece on the counter and sighs. 

The barkeep turns to tend to her drink and Storm drags a heavy hand down her face before dropping her hand to the bar. She looks down at the wooden counter and her eyes glaze over as though she is lost in thought.

Storm enters Volaire from the road to Kog’Thrak. She is wearing a variety of furs that cover her from shoulders to feet and is clasped with a decorative bronze clasp at her chest. The furs are various sizes and shades, and to a sensitive nose, smells like a variety of animals. She is using her glaive like a walking stick and walks confidently through town.

As she walks, Draconian’s snap their attention to her, rabid hunger in their eyes. Some of them wrinkle their noses in confusion at the smell of animal radiating off of her, others snort and return to their business, while others watch her curiously with that hunger in their eyes.

She pays them no mind as she heads through town and to the tavern.

All eyes briefly look to her and then most return to their business while a few look on curiously. Storm continues on through the noisy tavern, ignoring everyone but especially anyone who tries to talk to her.

The lightning Draconian takes a seat at the bar, propping her crackling glaive up beside her against the bar within easy reach.

“I know it’s a long shot but you got any bottles of Draconian whiskey back there?” She asks the barkeep as he steps up and wipes the bar in front of her.

He looks at her and waits.

Storm gives him a big smile and reaches into a pouch, procuring a couple of gold pieces before holding them up between her thumb and forefinger. The barkeep reaches for the gold and she pulls her hand back.

“Any rumors about someone name Zuiigri? Or someone named Saige?” She asks.

The barkeep grunts.

She reaches back down and pulls out a third gold piece.

The barkeep reaches for the gold and she relinquishes it to him.

“Aye. Heard that Zuiigri feller was selling weapons to Leib Olmai.” He turns his head and spits. “Right shameful for a member of one of the esteemed guilds of Ariad to-“

“He didn’t. Someone is spreading bullshit about him. He made weapons for CAM, not Leib Olmai. Spread the facts, not the stories.” She nods. “And Saige?”

The barkeep shrugs. “Nah. Ain’t heard nuffin ‘bout no Saige.”

Storm nods. “Those bottles of Draconian whiskey?”

The barkeep grunts at her and turns around to face the wall of liquor. He bends down and procures one dark brown bottle. He straightens, turns, and sets it on the bar.

“Best take it easy. Not sure when we’ll get more with the caravan missing.” The barkeep wrinkles his nose. “Yer one of ‘em heroes, right? What will it take to get you and yer friends to find the missin’ supplies? I paid damn good coin fer my supplies, hard to get as they was, and to have some bandits make off with it all… Don’t sit well.”

Storm shrugs. “I’ll talk to my friends and see what we can do about getting the supplies back. In the meantime, might help to post a missive with a reward.”

The barkeep scoffs. “Reward? With what money? Bought supplies that never made it here. Almost outta food and whiskey and I ain’t got much else.”

The barkeep turns to attend to another customer down the bar.

Storm sighs. “Right then.”

She takes the bottle and lifts her arm to stash the bottle inside her cloak. She reaches over and grabs the glaive then turns to leave.

A hand clamps down on her shoulder and Storm’s eyes cut to the hand touching her. “Ya know… Most men would lose their hands.”

The yellow scaled Draconian with black hair and blue eyes chuckles and releases her shoulder. “Lets chat.”

Commander Noctis steps forward and climbs onto a barstool. He waves the barkeep over and orders a couple of ales.

“Willing to bet that bottle of whiskey is the last one in town. Better keep it close.” He chuckles.

Storm, with a sigh, turns to sit at the bar once more. She props her glaive up beside her, opposite Noctis. The barkeep sets a mug of ale in front of each of them and Noctis slides him a few coins.

Storm and Noctis settle in to chat.

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