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Started May 16, 2020 by @Relsey-TheElder

tune

Denma, A curious land indeed. Where Magic makes its final stand, where Magen is said to still roam. Where Humans live in blind ignorance of the old ways, and Strange creatures rule the Mountains.
Yes the Human’s live in ignorance, maybe that is what started this conflict. There are whispers in Nonalia, Whispers of a War being waged between the Dragons and the kingdom of Clandrel. There are other curiosities concerning that kingdom, like it’s sudden spike in wealth, and the curious, yet beautiful, jewels and weaponry being exported. Perhaps it is a secret only Senvien’s know.
The Empire on the eastern border holds it’s secret’s too. They’ve grown more hostile as of late, and many nobles carry curious white blades. Wenad’s, a once very open part of Bornal’s society seem to have retreated into their underwater cities.
These however are only whispers, Nonalia is enjoying it’s peace and prosperity. You have come to a Tavern, The Dancing Poppy, looking for a meal and a good night's rest.

A tall, dark skinned male passed through the doorway of The Dancing Poppy, a hint of uneasiness barely flickering across his proud features. Rue walked up to the door watcher, and with a fumbling exchange managed to set up payment for his night's stay. He was careful to maintain a composed, calm expression, no matter what he felt on the inside as he sat down on a bench near the corner, his dark eyes roving the small crowd gathered as the landlord and a server carried out the supper, some kind of stew. He subtly smelled the air, and though his features betrayed no emotion, felt the warm aroma calming as well as awakening in him an appetite. It had been a day since he had eaten anything. Another sniff assured him there would be freshly baked bread. He sighed slowly in contentment. With a soft wave of his hand he made his presence in the shadows know to the server, who gave him a quick nod before turning back into what Rue assumed was the kitchen. He eyed her casually, wondering who she was, daughter of the innkeeper perhaps? With a quiet smile he wished her well and settled back into his spot, hoping to hear any stray conversation of interest from the few tables surrounded by other guests.

(Got it)
Beak glared at his stew. Though the griffin had been given a wide berth by many patrons, one slow sweep around the room told Rehman that Nonalia would be very, very different from Claundrel. The Feana in question slowly dipped a spoonful of the steaming liquid, letting the last drops fall one by one into his mouth. It was a curious feeling, being warmed from the inside out when he was so accustomed to fine dishes and courses, but it was one he welcomed. The eccentric pair had managed to snag a small booth in a dim corner of the tavern- The Dancing Poppy, was it? They'd been staying in residence here for two nights now, and probably would remain for a week.

The Dancing Poppy was becoming a lively scene as the sun lowered on the horizon. Patron's streamed through the door way, Feana, Wenad's, and Human's mixing together in a single space, Perches for winged companion's protruded from the wooden walls. An Orange glow filled the Tavern as flames flickered to life from mounted torches on the wall. Booths filled with chattering voices, the air filed with roars of laughter and the clunking of tankards on wood. This was soon joined by a merry tune as a band began to play in the far right corner of the tavern

Rue casually glanced across the room, his gaze lighting on a griffin, tentatively taking suspicious sips of stew. He laughed inwardly, and looked up as the maid finally delivered his food, complete with a thick slice of bread, still steaming. Humming inaudibly he dug in with gusto, the smell having convinced him of the food's wholesomeness moments after entering the building. The noise bothered him, and he attempted to filter out the noises until he had created some semblance of quite around him, even though the noises still grated on his consciousness, though he ignored it to the best of his abilities. A few minutes later he was softly scraping the bowl with a wooden spoon. He considered calling for more, but decided against it. He could always stock up later in the morning if necessary. He easily swept through the sea of people, narrowly dodging newcomers that came in through the door, before reaching the soft, cool breezes of outside. He walked a few paces and jumped into the low branches of a tree without thinking. He sat there for a minute, watching the last rays of the sun disappearing behind a curtain of clouds that hastened the darkness of nightfall.