>>6123597Leif and Green Leif Company are stationed at the biggest table in the place—naturally—and are taking up all the oxygen in that corner with tales of derring-do, while emptied mugs take up increasing real-estate upon their long table. Most of them are humans, but you spy the familiar pointed-ears of half-elves, though with Northman attire rather than the sort of living-leaf and nature-sourced and magic-spun attire you have learned to associate with the elven homelands. Elf female of the pair has a staff—a mage, shit!—and the male a bow and sword. Leif himself is mainly chatting with the humans, and instinctively you take stock of their openly-worm arms and armour, too: both his buddies have swords, one with the look of a hand-and-a-half and the other a sworder single-handed sword with a thrusting point. Leif himself, pragmatically, favours a hefty-looking axe. All are clad in light-to-medium armour, the make unform and colours a little loud—Hawksong stuff, for sure, albeit tarnished and worn in actual action.
As for the rest of the man, Leif cuts quite the figure: he’s tall, a little long-in-the-face but well-proportioned and symmetrical, with deep blue-grey eyes and tousled blonde hair, and a single long, thin scar across his chin and half-way down his throat which only serves to accentuate his natural handsomeness and lend credence to his stories, such as the one with which he is regaling a barmaid with just now.
“…so anyway, this owlbear had gotten out of the Tower, I guess, during some security transport, and savaged its handler, and was out in the woods, and the Tower Mages don’t have their ‘Inquisition’ anymore, so it fell to us to clean up after them. Or someone, but who better for the job than—”
“GREEN LEIF COMPANY!” crow the other human fellows, and half-elven mage-girl (who giggles at it), with her male ranger (?) counterpart joins in with notably less enthusiasm and a second too late.
“It’s sort of what we do,” Leif concludes, with a wink. “Of course, owlbears aren’t natural, and they don’t behave the way you’d expect an animal to behave even when they get out into the woods, so we—"
“Ah, actually sir, I really need to take these dishes back to the—EEP!”
Leif interrupts the barmaid’s words with a smooth hand around her waist, pulling her into his lap.
“What, and leave the tale half-told?” he asks with a charming smile. “Trust me, the tip will more than make up for it…”
It’s a testament to the man’s charisma that she doesn’t slap him one and take off anyway, instead flushing and stammering. You can understand the sentiment (and the appeal of ‘the tip’ he’s implicitly offering, because GODS ABOVE it’s been a while for you) but it’s still pretty pushy.
(Well, just makes things easier for you.)
<span class="mu-r">“Well if she’s gotta’ work, I’ll take her seat."</span>
