Tranquility

The silence is broken first not by birds but the low creak of the screen door being pushed open. The sound is drawn out by the lethargy of the hand moving it as Theron shuffles almost to the point of a limp into the room. His look is a reflection of the early morning; clothed but disheveled. Bright eyed of mind, but with a weary slump in his shoulders. His clothing is on him in a way that suggest he went through the motions of dressing without the urgency to make himself look arranged. A set of books grasped in his hand, kept close to his side, and his green bag bouncing idly against him opposite of that. Seeing Torben he nods and gives a low wave. "Mornin', Torben. Fancy seeing you in a tavern." He half jokes with a friendly tone, angling his amble toward where Torben sits to see if he in a chatty mood.

Torben casts a glance over to the weathered individual entering the tavern. His brief gaze sends a cascade of rapid thoughts through his mind as he takes in and assesses the various details of the man as he shuffles past the threshold of the Smoking Boar. He waits a moment, almost to the cusp of rudeness, and nods towards him in greeting. “Theron.” The K’ojin rolls his shoulders in a stretch and finishes off the black brew in his flagon. “How do you fare?” Torben reaches down into his pack and fishes out two small pouches and tosses them on the table next to him. “I’ve got hard cheese and dried fruit here if you’re looking to break your fast.”

"Hmm," he responds with appreciation, plucking up some shriveled berries from the plate close by at the invitation. He downs them quickly, but eyes are closed as he enjoys the flavor. "Much appreciated." he says after swallowing them. He eases into the seat opposite Torben. "Well enough. Not the best sleep. But nothing out of sorts." He says with a slight dismissive tone. "How about yourself? I couldn't tell if you wished to be alone. Don't mean to interrupt if so." He inquires with distinctly more interest. Theron's eyes quickly dart about the table. "Looks as though you were working on something." He surmises.

In the background, the muffled sound of the Smoking Boar's back door closing can be heard. Sixty seconds later, Kannoth is seen near the front entrance tip toeing his way through the white sands and morning dawn. What reason he had to be sneaking about was his own, but the movement of his many possessions made the effort of sneaking rather foolhardy. His attire seemed relatively unchanged from the day prior: he was equally well groomed, perfumed, and wearing the entirety of his all-too-many instruments, weapons, pouches, and knick-knacks. Such a presentation left one wondering whether the bard ever slept. The exaggerated and delicious grin tugging the corners of his lips seemed to support the suspicion. Bundled beneath his right arm are an assortment of flowers, and after a few more steps, his form was no longer visible from the tavern's windows.

Minutes later, a whistled birdsong announced his outside presence, and soon after the song begun, he could be seen again passing the tavern's windows. This round, his arms were now empty of the flowers. That earlier sound of the back door opening and closing returned, and Kannoth busied himself with bard business in the rooms behind the kitchen and away from prying eyes.

After inquiring with Torben, Theron watches the sight of Kannoth passing by. His eyes narrow some in focus and mouth twists in a slight frown. "Now what in Merry Harper could that bard be sneaking around about?" He asked with the tone of some one who had a theory as to excactly what that bard could, in fact, be sneaking around about. He turns back to Torben. "Anyhow."

Torben cocks his head towards the door and grins to himself before returning his attention back to Theron with a half-smile upon his face. “Ah sleep, the mistress of my youth. I very rarely get anything that one could amount to true rest. He picks at a piece of cheese, methodically disassembling it into minute, crumbly, boulders. “No, no, feel free to speak. I do not mind your company, besides my morning meditation is finished.” Torben spares a momentary glance at the hearth where the corpse of his broken quill lies among smoldering coals.

Theron leans to the side to follow the glance to fireplace but can only asses it with a puzzled look before returning to his original position. "Meditation?" The word seems to pique his interest. "Is that a Ko'jin practice, religious, or something more personal?" He asks while also trying to shape some cheese into a small cube for eating. "I have to admit, I know only the most basics of Ko'jin culture. I never served with one in a cohort, or got close with any of my Ko'jin brothers and sisters enough to really ask." "And religion and I," he says before interrupting himself before quickly eating the cheese, "Are happily estranged."

Torben smiles more genuinely. “Each tribe has their own sub-cultures and each individual their own religious convictions. My reflections are neither and of a more personal nature. Meditation for me is simply an acknowledgement of who I am, what I have done, and what I may have to do this day. It is the acceptance of burdens, those I willingly take on, as well as assessing which others I may need to endure on the behalf of others.” Torben pulls out a small pouch filled with dried meat and puts it on the table next to the other two pouches looking Theron in the eye. "Estrangement may be necessary at times but rarely, if ever, are they happy."

Theron lets something resembling a low chuckle out. "No. Perhaps not," he seems to admit. "But I've found something else to do with my soul than what I was raised to do with it. So it works out, I suppose." He indicates the badge on his tabbard by way of explanation to the cryptic words. "Which tribe do you hail from? And follow up question I should have asked first; is it rude to ask a Ko'jin what tribe they are from?"

The rear entrance is again heard opening and closing. Several seconds after the wooden creaking, an angry voice two rooms away could be heard beginning to yell. The voice was too distant to make out what he's saying, and a second more familiar one is heard responding. The two voices come into greater clarity as they appeared to move towards the kitchen. The more unfamiliar voice appears to be yelling something about "Disaster!" and "Last Night!" "You let the goose loose!" "Feathers!" "Shattered!" "Mess!" and "8 gold for the damages!" The man's pitch clearly suggested he was furious. The second voice, which could now be made out to belong to Kannoth, was attempting to soothe the angry man with some predictable platnium-tongued words that were exchanged too softly for the tavern's visitors to hear. They sounded somewhat apologetic, and slightly humored. The exchange continued until the louder man roared: "I QUIT!!!" The sound of a violently tossed ladle hitting the kitchen floor rang out, followed by the back door being slammed shut. A second but softer sound of the back door opening followed, and the kitchen returned to its previous silence.

Torben looks towards the kitchen and gestures with a piece of cheese dismissively. “Propriety bores me, even if your intention was to be rude, I likely would not be offended. How do you think I manage to get along with the bards so well? That bard in particular.” The K’ojin smiles again. “I’m from the Kuulu tribe, the same as Bel. It’s beautiful there among the mountains. If I close my eyes I can still hear the river crashing onto the smooth stones off the coast and smell the sweet, spicy scent of sap from the fir trees we use to make wooden frames. Our tribe is one of scholars, we all specialized in one or more things, but we share a general passion of knowledge. You don't know, what you don't know. And we also hold family in the highest regard. Knowledge and its dissemination and the protection and establishment of family are the foundational aspects of culture and civilization."

"Bel is a Kuulu? Interesting." Theron mulls that over for a moment, idly glancing over his shoulder toward the sound that game from the kitchen, turning back with bemused look. "I suppose we both make odd companions around ourselves." "So, after so much time, how do you find New Haven to be back in it?"

Torben’s face takes on a more serious tone and he tips up his flagon searching for the dregs of his morning beverage.

“Aye Theron, but I believe that this is a land for the damaged and broken. Places, like people have a certain feel and I know them by their scent and sounds. New Haven is much the same as it ever was. There are many new people here, but her face is still the same. New Haven is a place of squandered opportunity. The way I see it, life is meant to be lived in community with one another. It is innate within us. It is why people of similar backgrounds and temperaments tend to cluster together. It is why guilds and factions exist. We have a basic desire to develop and identify bonds with others and to live in a way that celebrates those attachments. Though I have had my disagreements with them, the Elendari helped foster that by providing us a measure of safety in a foreign and hostile land.”

“New Haven is a place where we were to have the potential to start rebuilding the fragments of our cultures, re-forging them to perhaps be greater than they ever were in our own homelands. We could share our knowledge, abilities, and traditions with one another easily, and all it would take is a conversation and a willingness to grow.”

Torben stares at the cup, his jaw sets, and iron creeps into the tone of his voice.

“But that is not the case. Instead, we consult with the darkness within. The petty, vile thoughts of malevolent ambition become the compass by which we navigate. As a child, we were taught the stories of the Drow and their ilk, told of their greed and avarice. But these traits are not unique to the Exiled races, no they are within each and every conscious mind. And the more we feed those thoughts, give in to the temptation to put others below ourselves, the stronger that dark being within us becomes, until the point that it controls the person totally and completely.

I’m not talking about mistakes, but a consistent willingness to harass and harm, to maim and manipulate. Feeding the darkness so that it becomes so fat, feeding off of our misdeeds, that there is no longer room for conscience or empathy. That breeds chaos and disharmony. It fractures the bonds so vital to existence and it destroys the seeds of civilization wherever they may be sown.”

The cup slowly begins to bend inwards in the K’ojin’s grip.

“So yes, I know her face, I saw it in the homelands, and I see it here. I’ve heard some of the things that have transpired in my absence, it is one of the reasons for my return. I fear for our collective peoples. Being offered falsehood and corruption in the guise of glory and power. Maybe the land itself is to blame, maybe those that come before us have tainted the very ground with their thoughts. I don’t know. But what I do know is that if the darkness wants to swallow our best chance at rebuilding a civilized society, if it wants to consume New Haven, it will look me in the fucking eyes first.”

Torben gingerly sets the cup back down on the table and offers a somewhat nervous smile to Theron in apology.

Theron listens with intent to Torben. Not eating, drinking or looking elsewhere other than the Ko'jin, or nothing in particular as he takes it in and reflects. Despite the apologetic look of the Kuulu at the end, the human seems unbothered by both word and tone. His demeanor sharpens to a serious reflection, letting the latent jest in his voice drop away when he responds. "I think you have the truth of it." He begins. "Though, I wouldn't attribute it to the ground, or the air, or any other physical way of being carried. But here the world is both full of potential, but has a lingering pall about it." He leans back some. "When the Spawn of Sho'thar was loose, it was even more tangible. I could hear it in the backdrop of reality. Taste it when my mind slipped from focused thought. The fear it spread was palpable and infected everyone. Even the most courageous were forced to be so in reaction. There was not a day not tinged with fear, and far too few moments free of it." "This is the nature of the Great Enemy, as I have found it. Echoes of their malevolence reach across the veil towards us, looking to find purchase in the souls of the living. Looking for anywhere they can root in, and when weak, we echo back to them. Greed, hypocrisy, vanity. Among others. If we are not careful it becomes harmonious. Harmony becomes a melody. Melody becomes song. Song becomes message. Message becomes truth. Until the nightmare of the Abyss and the reality of the mortal plane blur and what separates them falls away like an illusion." He folds his hands on the table as he leans back in. "You are also right in what New Haven could be. Fragments of so many cultures bound by a mutual need to survive. A chance to strip away the illusions of what separate us all. It stumbles and falters from fear, desperation, distrust. So many things. So many echoes reaching across that veil to find other voices to sing with it in the cacophonous noise that howls from the Abyss. There's been betrayal. The Elendari lose someone to a blood curse from that very betrayal every night. There's been doubt. It creeps into so many conversation when cooperation is needed." "But I have seen more powerful things than that. Bonds forged between people who, had the world not ended, never could have existed. Great feats wrought from cunning, valor and determination. Pushing back against those echoes. As a long dead brother of mine put so eloquently; 'the tyrants of the Abyss will find in our world a thousand, thousand voices singing and screaming in defiance.' It is hard to agree with him sometimes, but Despair is ever the weapon of the Enemy." He lowers his voice. "For now we are bound by illusions this world requires. The drow are chained in slavery they cannot sense as they wallow in their decadence. The Elendari fight a war they may never truly learn to evolve from. Bandits, pirates, slavers surrender to their weakness and turn the souls of mortals into a plague. Even the fae and spirits give into madness with the veil weakened and the world tested. Every day feels like we balance on many precipices that demand our immediate attention." "But, all our lives we have been lied to. There is only one War. And there is only one Enemy."

Moments later, the door creaked and ached with a slap, followed by the appearance of a small but yet plump woman, gowned in crimson red skirt and a black corset. A notable immense lenght of white mane tied in a black bow across her temples. Her small round face instantly smiles at the sight of others inside, pausing at Theron and Torben chatting with a squinted gaze, "Guten morrow! Up so early?" cheerfully, before moving with great pace, thumping small boots towards her usual table of her books and flowers laid out. She caught the tail end of Theron's long speech about, what she'd guess from her experience, the abyss.

Torben cocks his head slightly to the side as he listens to Theron. His manner now more relaxed than moments previously. As the grizzled man finishes his statement, the K'ojin smiles to himself, some brief thought reflected upon his face. At the sound of the Taverns new occupant arriving, Torben gives a friendly gesture towards Aleena as she enters. "Always Aleena. I find morning to be the best time to collect ones thoughts." Turning back to Theron, Torben takes in the man's visage. Noting the slump of his shoulders, bearing some great burden the eye cannot glean. His eyes, intelligent but slightly haunted it seems. "Aye, I think we have a lot in common Lachaylan, though I've never attributed these traits to specific entities, but rather a generalized malaise of the soul, I would be interested in continuing this conversation sometime. I come from a tribe of scholars after all and you don't know what you don't know. I'd take any information you can provide as a high honor."

"I'm not sure if 'honor' is the best word to use for what knowledge the Order can offer, but I will be willing to share it nonetheless. Specific entities though there are, the contribution of souls cannot be underestimated either. Let me know later when you wish to continue." He coughs into his hand slightly. "And 'Theron' is just fine. No need for the surname." He smiles and nods to Aleena. "Morning. How's the sunrise find you?"