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Irania plants both feet upon the dock and looks around the unfamiliar area. Gynka, a place she had never before been and most likely would never see again after. The air was salty to the taste and the breeze held a chill. Walking across the wooden boards of a place she didn't know was a bit unnerving and Irania took a breath as she took in the sight of various races. Sure, Gobaith had it's share of seperate beings, but this was different. The mixture was much greater. Not only that but this port seemed to lack any sense of structure or upkeep. Obviously no one of great wealth lived nearby as wherever she looked there were men and women garbed so poorly she felt guilty for wearing the dress she now wore, simple cotton as was it was.

Striding down the dock in a confidant manner nonetheless, Irania drew no attention. Here and there small stalls were set up and people traded with merchants. Their voices filled the air and no place seemed to lack conversation. This did make her smile for some reason. Perhaps because Trollsbane was so quiet at times. Eyes darting back and fourth, Irania attempted to take in it all. Every sight she could, every sound, every face. Placing her hand upon a barrel that was placed outside a small stone building, Irania takes another deep breath. One of these places had to be an inn. It had been a rather tumultuous journey though a short one and she sought now a place to spend a relaxing evening.

"Excuse me," Irania says to a stocky older man with a long beard, "Is there a nearby inn?" She holds tightly to the bag slung over her shoulder.

"Aye, right where ye stand." He speaks quickly and turns away to avoid any further questioning. Without a farewell, Irania steps from the barrel and pushes the door of the building open though it took some effort on her part as the door was heavy and not well made. Once inside, she gazed about warily. The air was thick with the scent of tobacco and the lighting was poor. Across the room was a middle-aged woman in an apron who she could only assume was the innkeeper. Weathered skin and dull eyes gave Irania the impression that she had spent many years in this place, this tobacco filled room where who knows how many scoundrels had taken sanctuary.

"Ma'am, would you have a room available?" Irania speaks respectfully though her voice holds it's usual coldness.

"We got few. It's five copper." The voice which spoke sounded older than she appeared.

"...Five?" Irania shoots her a shocked expression.

"What...you wanna pay less? Well I ain't gonna take nothing but what I ask!" The expression this woman gave her now almost made Irania cringe. What sort of people found 5 copper to be a fair amount? Surely they should ask for more. Though on further inspection, perhaps this place did not deserve more than the amount asked.

"No...no...five it a very fair place. I am glad to pay it..." She reaches into a small sack and holds the coins out, they are taken in a greedy fashion.

"Upstairs, third door on the right." With that the woman seemed to pay her no more mind. Irania ascends the stairs then and finds herself before the door she was directed to. It was a rickety looking door with cracks down the cencer and even a few holes, as though someone has wanted to peer inside at some point. Stepping into the room and closing the door behind her did little to make Irania feel alone. This place was nothing more than a shack and most likely held company to prostitutes more than any other. It would be a long night, she was sure...

The nasty shack, Irania stranded in, inhabited not more or less crooks than it looked like. Even though the condition of the building was worse than its age, it was comfy to those who didn't wish to be found. Those kind of people, like Garkayne was. But for once, he wasn't the deer that seeks its refuge in the dirt. No, he was the hunter..

He licked over his lips, his thumb and index finger strided over his thing moustache, to wander over his chinbeard before letting his hand sink. His cheeks were covered by stubbles, and his ears covered by bearbrown curls. His skin was slightly tainted, and he wore a black leathern west over a tunik that used to be black once, but now appears in all kinds of greytints. On his belt, he wore a rapier, sheated. His black leather trowsers were stuffed into brown suedeboots.

Garkayne gazed through the commonroom, with his lightbrown eyes. He could smell the scent in the smokey dirty air. Her scent.. The scent of the woman he recognized at the docks and probably the woman he was waiting for.

He took his seat in a darker corner of the room and gestured for a beer. The hunter perserves in the dirt, untill his prey returns.

When Irania had awoken in the late morning most others had already begun their day. Even from within the inn she could hear the voices rising from the streets and by the time she had finished washing they had grown even louder. After looking out the window and realizing that she had missed the arrival of the morning boats Irania headed downstairs to wait for the next to dock. It would be any time now she was sure. Well, she hoped anyway. The less time spent in this establishment the better.

Once downstairs, Irania could see that her previous impression of this place was indeed a correct one. The air was still filled with stale smoke and the scent of ale. Here and there a few men sat chatting though she was glad she could not hear what of. After having found a seat Irania sits back and views the room quietly. At least she would not have a boring wait, there was no doubt about that.

"I'll have a mead, please.." She says aloud to a passing barmaid. A tall girl with thick brown hair much like her own, and dull gray eyes set in a round face. She only nods back and turns away, leaving Irania to sit alone once more.

Not a moment after the barmaid had left the meat in a dusty cup on Iranias table, Garkayne had made his move to sit down in front of her. His dangerous aura covered the air arround them, and one could feel the tension in every breath when watching them. But noone did, not even the barmaiden, Garkayne and motioned to bring him more ale, as he waved with his empty mug.

He looked deep into her eyes, staying calm to let her examine his features fully. Maybe he did it to show her that she was the prey, that should hide herself, and he was the hunter that has no need in hiding his face from her. Then he raised his voice, a rusty voice which tough throat who was used to breath rough salty air of the sea.

"My my... not the kinda place yer'd fit in dear.. ye sure you caught up in da right place to wait for a ship?"

Irania looked to him coldly though fear may showed in her dark brown eyes and perhaps she even shrinked away from him slightly. "What do you want?" - "Chitty chatting would be a nice start.." He answered with a grin, showing off his 3 goldteeth on the left upper corner of his cannon. "But ... err.. if yer prefer to get straighta bizz-nes... " He rammed a rusty dagger into the wodden table and leaned forward, whispering hissed but clear words at her: "Where.. is da crown"

Irania peers up at him and parts her lips in shock. How did this man know about the crown? A crown that held such magic anyone would want to get their hands on it. A crown that belonged to the royal family of Paralon. A crown that had been stolen. Taken by her first husband while he worked under the king as one of his most trusted subjects.

Nearly fifty years ago a crown was created after the death of the great mage, Alkurnuis, passed on to the next realm leaving his power encased in a gem. The gem was placed within the crown for safe keeping, a secret to be held by the royal family alone. Though Trevor, the man who would one day become Irania's husband, discovered this secret. Thus he began his plot to take the magical artifact for himself. After killing her husband and taking the crown, she alone knows where it is.

"How...do you know about that?" She speaks in a meek and surprised manner, very unlike her.

After staring at him for 10 days with no response and growing quite bored, A whole lot of things happen and Irania goes home.

Somewhere on Gobaith a tree falls over.