But Bie didn't know all of this. All he knew was that he saw a wooden table held right up to his nose, his head bowed low underneath a brown hooded cloak. Raucous peals of laughter formed a cacophony as a foul bitterness stung his nose, and the clanking of glasses smacked against not so sturdy support.
"Bah, yew f*cking wizards aren't even worth the sh*t yer shower spells miss!" A red faced man in a lab coat and beret spat on the ground as he looked at a man sitting up at the counter. The man was intoxicated, heavily in fact, as he imbibed quite a bit of green grog that could be seen in pretty much any of the frothing mugs.
"At least we can use our magycks to maintain a clear head! What kind of intelligent f*Coker are you, slurring your words like some paid mercenary over cheap swill!" A woman elegantly held her pinky up as she smoothed down her shawl and tightly fitting robe, bracelets jingling and a gleaming necklace in between her ample bosom.
The mercantile people alike glared at both the man and the woman, though some gazes lingered on the woman longer than they should've. Some hopeful people also looked at the man to see if he was worth an eyeful, to which men and woman alike were disappointed. The mercenaries lived a simple life of killing, getting paid, losing their money, and satisfying any kind of carnal need that arose in the process.
In fact, all of the mercenaries even glanced at each other with desire clouding their senses, and the grog muddled their common sense just enough for them to want to celebrate with anybody. All aside from a tall, 1.87 meter handsome middle aged man with brown skin and dark ash blonde hair that curled past his shoulders and ran past his Adam's apple.
No one approached him, however as he was not only heavily armored in a thick plate mail that lacked a helm, but because of the young woman beside him that looked like a miniature him. It was the man's daughter, who was like a quartz in the desert knight, her eyes being completely white. Aside from that, she shared the same skin and hair color as her father.
Bie kept his head low as he surveyed the area, noticing that there weren't very many people that looked anywhere adjacent to him. He believed that his baby blue skin would stick out very much, so he simply let his yellow topaz eyes wander the room.
The room was quite loud and busy, so normally, he wouldn't have been noticed. However, the young Guide had underestimated the perception of at least two people in the room, who quickly noticed that he wasn't breathing! The man walked over with a hurried gait while his daughter clenched a runic shield, before arriving straight above Bie's hunched down form.
"Hey, are you okay?" The man's bold voice was curved at the end, as if to try and assuage any doubts the hooded guy who's head hung low might've had. Mercenaries were a very assuming lot, and wouldn't take very kindly to people who disturbed them for no reason.
No, rather, the skeptical veterans that spent days on the battlefield would rather believe someone was checking when to stab them in the back. Not to care about them and genuinely care about the face of a person who might die the next day. Maybe even the next hour.
And so the man attempted to disarm the loaded spring trap that he assumed Bie had set, shaking him a bit. The young woman beside him let out a gasp as she tiptoed her 1.7 meter height up to her father's ear, whispering into it softly. The man then took a peak and then noticed that there was a sliver of baby blue skin showing, so he pulled up a chair and sat by Bie.
"Alright, kid. My name is Ulun, and this is my daughter Uris. I'm going to cut to the chase…" The man had set down two sizable weapons that looked more like canes with a hook at the end. He then took a deep breath before he continued, signaling for Uris to sit down as well.
"You're a demihuman, right? I don't know why you're…out here, especially as a kid, but this place is really dangerous. I won't discount you as a mercenary, as any warrior worth his salt would be in this area and you look like a race I've never even seen before. And trust me, when you're here, you see a lot of faces each and every day…" The man chuckled, taking a brief pause to let his assertions lay between the three. He noted that the boy had not looked up, so he was most likely right, and he continued speaking.
"So, since you're a mercenary, you should join my band, the Hook and Shield. I've been here for ten years with my daughter, so my name has a bit of prestige around these parts. If you follow me, I can protect you from becoming some rich bastard's experiment. What do you say?" Bie looked up in surprise, and the woman gasped as she noticed not only how beautiful the boy was, but also how young he appeared. If she was 17, which was an adult in this world, Bie was 13, which she saw as a horrible burden that he must've suffered, as most demihumans only gained their strength at around 10. The boy stood at 1.53 meters, shorter than her by around 5 feet, so she didn't even think he ate very much…
Three years of fighting…she looked over what he was wearing. He donned a small set of an iron cuirass with simple chain mail chausses, gaiters, plate boots, and a similarly brown patchy hooded cloak over the mail. A duffel bag full of stone weapons was slung along his shoulder and hugged his lower back, the leftmost opening of the duffel bag having some shafts pointing out the end.
She then brought her gaze back to his face, taking in the bright topaz yellow irises coupled with long butterfly lashes. His black and round pupils. The eye themselves are almond shaped and hooded, with a sharply curved outline. His hair was in a simple, straight bob, which was pitch black on the outside and dijon yellow on the inside. His yellow hair curls slightly towards the nape of his neck, while the black part of his hair remains straight. His fine, heart-shaped eyebrows were partially obscured by his fringe.
All of his skin was a light shade of baby blue, while his downward turned lips are blue violet. His lips are commonly curled into a charming smile that can be slightly disturbing in the midst of this bar. He had a sharp straight nose, which seems a little petit because of his fine nose bridge. His face shape was triangular with small heart shaped cheeks.
Her heart bled as she wondered if his parents had died on the field, already seconding her dad's offer to bring him in before she knew it.