I was born Tempress Delany Aleanti, named as such for the shock of red hair, and angry cry. A name thats only become more fitting the older I've grown. Rogue to the core, I received the spark at Deoch 9. A bustling time, borne within the bustling town of Mileth. Though I must admit my heart truely belongs to Soumi.
I spend most of time within the woods seeking my fortune off some miscreant critter, but once a Deoch I travel to Soumi for a scrumptous dinner and a bit of carousing with the towns oddities. Of which I seem to fit right into.
I love the fact that it takes me exactly 130 steps once I cross the bridge to reach Gudny's place for a scrumptious meal. Her robust nature and interal mothering with a dash of healthy gossip always puts me in a good mood. I always try to bring with me a betony, hydele, and personica for her daughter who often times is sickly. The mother's love she shows for her child warms me to the core, and she gives freely that warmth.
My belly full, my thoughts turn to the tavern next door. Viveka's tavern is always full, and my friends always save my seat on the special night I leave the woods to be with them. Exactly 36 steps from the doorway to my favorite perch, always awaits me.
Waiting are Valemar, the towns jeweler and his brother Torbjorn the blade smith. Two brothers who often tend to bicker and finish each others sentences. Both own the local jewelers and weaponry shop. At one time they shared the space in one large room, till a fight ensued which neither can remeber what it was about, and a wall was erected seperating each of them. A doorway was later hacked in by Torbjorn, when he found out that Valemar was telling inquiring customers that Torbjorn had been eaten by a Goblin during the Astrid uprising.
And I know Berg is also there, the local fight master. A barrel of a man, with a heavy brogue in his voice. I never have figured out how such a large man can teach the delicate and deadly forms to the Monks. But his finesse is legendary and many travel from afar to learn their forms from him. Easy to laugh and often has a off water joke to keep us in stitches, all the while Viveka chastising him and wagging her finger. Our laughter only increasing to see the huge brute, color to the shade of one of Goran's famous cherries.
In the corner, both their heads bent over soil samples and almanac's are Goran, the cherry farmer and Alvar the grape farmer. No one seems to know what they do that makes their fruit so succulent, but it is most sought after by priests. Combined and blessed by the Goddess Danaan, their fruits give life to those unfortunate souls near death and saves them from Sgrios unscrupulious grip.
Occasionly, Hadrian the dark wizard joins our small clan. None of us seem to kin to him much, his peckish nature and inaudable mussings giving off a eerie quality. With him one never seems to know if he's actually speaking to you, or some etheral being we cant see. When he does seem to be on the same plane as the rest of us, the stories he weaves can keep the whole tavern enthralled.
I round out this randy group. I, a rogue..and female to boot was accepted readily enough after I had proved I could spit, drink, and curse with the best of them. Though I think if was my particular talent that sinched it. At my hip is always a well oiled whip I affectionatly call "The snake". On the first eve I met Valdemar and Torbjorn, their arms were locked in what looked to be a stalmate version of arm wrestling. Both their biceps bulging, the sweat beading on their brows. The tavern quieted when I arrived, as taverns oft do when a stranger enters "The snake" swinging against my hip.
Torbjorn was the first to address me, asking if I knew how to use the weapon at my side. I assured him I did. A wicked gleam came into his eye as he looked to his brother Valdemar, who seems to read his mind and nod a assent. I looked to Berg, who just seemed to shrug, and look as mystified as I. Valdemar went to Goran who was sitting in the corner over a almanac and speak quietly. He returned looking triumphant and holding up a cherry. Torbjorn, approached me telling me I needed to settle a dispute between his brother and himself. I was shocked, as I watched Valdemar settle that little piece of fruit between his lips. They meant for me to remove that juicy tidbit with "The snake". The outcome was to be if I hit the fruit Valdemar had won the argument, if I missed besides a rather large welt on his nose would be he'd lost. I'm not sure how much gold exchanged hands that night, but Valdemar's rather large bulbous nose remained unmarred. And I've had the honor of being a part of their lives ever since.
Soumi, replenishes my heart and revives my soul. It's rustic wisdom knows no cynicism's and its twilight offers sweet oblivion. And in a rustic tavern off the path, await the souls who delight me as no others could. This is my tribute to them and to you my home not of my birth...but of my life.