Rath sits heavily, leaned back on an old wooden chair, that wicked trident
Devilsbane leaned up against the wall within easy reach. He's realizing at the smell of food that he's eaten only lightly since the raising, and drank naught but water. He's got a tankard of good, dark stuff at his right hand, and a plate of bread, and his stomach growls while waiting for the serving girl to bring whatever passes for a meal in this place.
He drinks, first to Eagle, muttering an agreement with Saliq Musfara.
"A debt I won't forget," Rath says, and he closes his eyes. Savoring the beer, perhaps, or remembering.
Gnawing hunger. Twisting vines about his own cold, hard limbs. Flash of lightning, searing light and heat, a stench. It's not even a memory. But he remembers a moment when he
could remember, and that's close enough to bring a shudder to his spine.
Rath takes a deep breath, lets it out. And he drinks deeply to Norion Ironaxe.
Saliq Musfara:
"I have been listening to gossip in the taverns and our exploits are beginning to become known. Which might mean either the Thyrandas Family or the Talas Family will take an interest in us."
Rath's eyes narrow.
"Is that good or bad?"