Oh great rhyme, shrouded be thy lane
It was a late and somber night. Autumn could be seen from the color of the leaves and the coolness in the air. On the streets out of Southvale a couple of vagrants roamed the streets, either going from or to the nearest tavern. At the 'The Dancing Weasel' songs could still be heard downstairs. Tankards clinking against each other, small folk laughing and the dices being thrown. From upstairs giggles could be heard from the suite. "You really are something Mr Sabar" Nika Stanik said. A broad smile stretching her pinkish face. A beautiful young woman, with naughty short hair in amber. "Jorel. Please call me Jorel, we are among friends are we not?" Jorel Sabar answered. "Okay then, Jorel". She leaned against his bared chest and made smooth strokes with her fingers, playing with his chest hair. "Such a shame that you're leaving again tomorrow. We must make the most out of it, don't we?" She embraced him in a tight squeeze. "Le...