...And looks around with interest, taking in the chattering common room with a degree of awkwardness. No one seems to take any notice of her as she eases into a chair at the nearest table, her long, slender fingers fluttering around mussed, orange hair. Her eyes are drawn to the stage, which looks as though it has been unused for quite some time. A strangeness settles of Reridore like a blanket; that would have been the most active part of the room, in the taverns she knows.

But this is not a tavern among her usual haunts, nor does she know any of the adventurers who sit at the tables around her, laughing and talking about this and that.

The blushing discomfort of sitting alone begins to gnaw at Reridore, and she stands abruptly. Shouldering her pack, she walks hesitantly over to the nearest occupied table. Her smile is brief and wary, but pleasant all the same.

"Excuse me," She stumbles slightly over her words. "I've not been here often. I wondered if I might join you for a drink?"

((This is not directed at any specific person I would love for someone to join me in what I hope will be a fun little thread))

Staring into his drink, Antibane found himself lost in the depths of his mind.  Problems about which he rarely had occasion to think surfaced as he sat amongst his usual companions at the table in the empty tavern.  It had always bothered him that the stage so often stood empty - a rousing song or bard's tale could brighten any room, balancing the darkness of the shadows.  Buffeted by Lolaneth's throaty baritone, Vagsass's raspy alto, and Kaiah's airy soparano, constantly interrupting each other as they argued (again) the virtues of their various philosophies, Bane's mind slipped further into oblivion.

Conversation stopped, however, and the Erudite's reverie snapped when the human interrupted them.  The other three turned to him, waiting for his response.  Glancing up from his glass, Antibane took stock of the human female before them.  Slender, with fiery hair, she seemed out of sorts and uncomfortable.  Bane glanced at Kaiah briefly, and the slender druid gave a small shake of her head.  Nodding, he moved over slightly and gestured for the woman to join them.

"Wench," said Vagsass, using her scaly tail to (somewhat unpleasantly) catch the attention of a passing barmaid, "A drink for Antibane's new 'friend'"  Antibane glared at her, but Lolaneth interrupted before he could say anything.

"The blessings of Mithaniel Marr be upon you, human," said the Froglok, ever spreading his insipid religious fanatacism, "As one joining our table, do you have a name?  I am the High Priest Lolaneth, cleric of Mithaniel Marr."

Reridore's smile grows as she sits down. To the barmaid she requests "Just some gypsy wine, if you have it." and turns her attention to the diverse group before her. Her soft alto fits with the harmony of their voices, not perfectly, but lacking dissonance all the same.

She flinches as Lolaneth mentions Mithaniel Marr, and gives no indication that she accepts the blessing. Instead she focuses on the easier question at hand.

"I am known as Reridore Fa... just Reridore. My friends call me 'Dore, usually, or Reforged Blade -- it's my title, in the guild."

Aware she is rambling, Reridore greets the barmaid with considerable relief and takes a sip of wine before continuing.

"I'm from the realms of The Nameless and Innoruuk. What about you lot? Do you come here often?"

Antibane stifled his curiosity at Reridore's claim that she had come from another reality and kept his hood hiding most of his face.  Like most necromancers, his craft drained at his life force so often that it left him permanently disfigured, looking more like one of the skeletal minions he commanded than a proud Erudite.  It was the will of Cazic Thule that Antibane's visage sow fear wherever he went, and he took it as such.  Still, it would not do to frighten away a newcomer before intent and usefulness could be ascertained.  Thankfully, Kaiah's curiosity got the better of her soon enough.

"I've heard tell of those who travel between the realms," she said in an airy voice that whispered like the wind through her tree-bound home in Kelethin, "But never met one.  I'm Kaiah Andrali, Fier`Dal Druid of Tunare."  Kaiah paused for a moment, and then continued, somewhat more shyly, "They say all is the same between the realms, save the people.  Do you feel as though you leave something behind when you move?"  The druid's sensitivity and sincerity shone in her eyes, and Antibane turned his head back to their guest, waiting for an answer.

Reridore takes a sip of wine and stares ahead thoughtfully. When she speaks, her voice is hesitant.

"I'm not sure -- The Nameless and Innoruuk are one and the same, but I know of a woman who came from a different set -- Xegony. She was...lost, in sorts, when she left her home and her friends behind. She has never been the same."

She sets the glass down and smiles at Kaiah, a hint of confusion in the turn of her lips.

"Maybe the people make all the difference. I couldn't even begin to know, though -- I'm not as old or wise as some."

The line of conversation unnerves her -- here, she is trying to seem collected, graceful as she's never been. But she is as awkward in this portal through the realms as she is in The Shady Dragon Inn, and talking of something she knows nothing of does not help. She changes the subject with a cough and another nervous flash of her teeth.

"So -- where did you all meet? This is such a varied group."

She does not mention that she is aware of Antibane's craft, as those who have studied the shadow arts always will be. Instead, Reridore clings to the possibility of convincing these people of what she once was -- Light.

"Now that," said Antibane, speaking for the first time in a haughty, almost majestic tenor, "Is truly an interesting story.  Kaiah actually serves me as a replacement for a death sentence.  We met when I was a younger necromancer, lost in the Toxxulia Forest, and she aided me in finding my way back to Paineel.  Unfortunately, once we arrived the guards apprehended her, tried her for kidnapping, and convicted her.  It was my word alone that spared her life, so she stays and serves me."  An invisible spark said that the two had shared more than just a bond of servitude, though neither would openly admit it.  Such activities came from a darker time in Antibane's past, before the englightenment of Balance, and for the most part, Kaiah all but resented the necromancers actions then.

"And I," said Lolaneth, "Became Antibane's thrall after he ressurected me from what would surely have been a permanent death.  He had one of his rogues assassinate me to usurp my rule over the forces of Feral Fury, then trapped my soul in one of his unholy orbs.  We tolerate one another because our goals are similar, though our methods are different."  Lolaneth's final sentence sounded a lie and, truly, was - the Froglok had little interest in Balance and would, if presented an opportunity, bathe the world in light and let the might of Mithaniel Marr reign.  Antibane knew this well, but kept Lolaneth around for his usefulness.

"The lizard, well...she's evidence of what might happen if you wander too far from home when you're young," continued Antibane, a gleam (for the first time) of purely evil intent shining in his eyes.  "She serves me because if she did not, I would turn her into a handbag for Kaiah."  Vagsass hissed angrily at the Erudite, but said nothing because she, after so long, knew her place too well.

Mostly unable to divine intentions or craft not clearly of the shadow variety, Antibane tried to ignore a small sense that their new companion was not all she would let on.  Kaiah, in tune with those around her, probably already knew, but he had no way of finding out without alerting their companion.  For now, the conversation would continue - I hate politics, thought Bane.

Reridore winces inwardly at Antibane's introductions, though Kaiah seems to have gotten off relatively easy. She takes a deep breath and hides her discomfort in a hearty sip of wine. 'Come on,' she thinks, shame-faced. 'This is not time to be naive.'

She senses that the mic has been passed to her; the group seems to pin Reridore with expectant eyes. Her turn, of course, but what to say? Clearing her throat, Reridore Fallenlight lifts her head and tries for a smile.

"I..." Gods, but he's intimidating. Erudites always were a haughty lot. "Well, I don't have any servants to introduce you to, not even a mercenary." She relaxes slightly and spread her hands in a 'what can you do?' motion. "I usually prefer to fight alone, after all, and I'm told that I'm not easy to get on with in the heat of battle."

She shrugs, flashing a sheepish smile around the table, trying not to look as though she is only speaking to Antibane, even though he is clearly the leader.

"I'm from Qeynos, taught in the Temple of Life. Forgive my curiosity -- but were you raised in Paineel? I've never actually been inside the city, obviously. What happens if a child is born with healing ability? Or vise versa in Erudin, I suppose. I've always wondered."

"You know," said Antibane in reply, "I'd heard that among other races they spoke of 'affinity' for certain roles."  He shrugged, clearly interested but lacking knowledge on the subject.  "Erudites don't really work that way - our superior intelligence and capability" - both of those got an under-the-breath guffaw out of Lolaneth - "lets us choose our own paths."  Antibane paused to take a drink and fix a withering glare on the Froglok, but Lolaneth just glared defiantly back.

One of these days, I'm going to have to teach him a lesson, thought Bane, knowing that it would likely never be the case.  The Frog was all but immune to most of his spells and far superior in melee combat.  The necromancer shook his head slightly to clear his thoughts.

"I was actually born and raised in Erudin," he said, continuing his story and finally pushing back his hood to reveal his face.  More than time had weathered it - the continuous use of the necromantic arts had sapped away a part of the Erudite's vitality.  Far from the normal, high-browed and muscular appearance of most of his race, Antibane's eyes sunk deep into his bald head, and what pallid skin there was clung almost frantically to his cheekbones.  "My father was a Paladin of Quellious and my mother was a Cleric of Prexus.  Both participated in the civil war that created the Hole - odd, don't you think, that one who worships tranquility and one who worships the constancy of the ocean would support such a purging?"  His smile twisted into a half sneer.  "I was raised to be a Paladin, like my father, a noble warrior, but I longed for more than a life of servitude could provide.  The librarian in Erudin was a man of knowledge and could not, despite the edicts, eliminate understanding from his dwelling.  I found his book on necromancy, and I was hooked.  My parents, of course, hated the idea, but I was young, less than 40, so I set off through Toxxulia to make my home in Paineel.  It was a trick, escaping the guards."

Caught up in his story, Antibane had not noticed that Lolaneth had risen from his seat and was looking fervently and deeply into their new companion's eyes.  As soon as Antibane stopped speaking, the Froglok spoke up.

"I know many who worship the Prime Healer - while my power comes from Mithaniel Marr, it is the research of those who follow Rodcet Nife that informs much of my craft.  I see the truth of your words in your eyes, but you do not have the air of one of his worshippers.  What aren't you telling us?"  As he spoke, Lolaneth's voice got more accusing, and by the time he finished, his front hand had nearly drawn his mace.

Reridore listens, enthralled by Antibane's tale. The parallels in both their pasts is intriguing to her; moreso is the fact that the sunken erudite does not appear to hold any remorse or conflict over what he is. Perhaps it was because, unlike herself, he chose his path...

Her thoughts are disrupted and scattered as Lolaneth speaks. A jolt of fear runs through her, from the roots of her orange hair and down through her toes. She is on her feet in a second, gripping her own sword hilt. Her voice a stutter, Reridore speaks frantically, unsure of what story to stick to -- she decides on an abridged version of the truth.

"I, I...I was raised as a paladin. Of Erollisi Marr, though I never visited her temple -- it's not relevant,"

She massages the bridge of her nose with the hand that does not grip her sword, attempting to relax.

"There was...I took a journey, and it ended in...in slaughter," She gazes ahead flatly, supressing the memories of that Dark Day as they come uninvited to the forefront of her mind. "I was not strong enough to avenge my friends. I...sought another way to power, in the space of seconds..."

Fool! These people were not stupid; it was amazing she had gotten away with pretending to be a paladin for so long. Gently she eases her hand off its vise like grip on her sword, though she keeps an eye on Lolaneth.

"A-allow me to reintroduce myself. I am Reridore Fallenlight -- a shadowknight."