The Thorned Rose Ch.01

Scar delicately dipped his hands into the waters of the quiet, slow-flowing stream, cupping and raising his them to his lips to draw in a cold and refreshing sip of water, splashing the rest across the soft features of his face to revitalise him after a long day scouting out the city before him. He looked down as the water settled once more, his gaze settling upon his own reflection, he pursed his lips in a moment of concentration, brushing a loose strand of his silky hair back behind one long, pointed ear.

Scar was an Elf. Not a unique trait, there was, after all, a race of the slender, pointy eared things, hiding in the woods in places far off and secluded, but Scar stood out among them as being different, a self-proclaimed outcast and wanderer.

The Elves of the world were a reclusive sort, for most races and people seeing one was in itself a rarity and interacting with one was unheard of, save for the luckiest of trusted traders. Elves, when they travelled outside of their enclaves, went about as quietly and stealthily as they could, content to mingle only with themselves, trading with outsiders only when completely necessary and even going so far as to conducting such tasks with the minimum of contact and conversation.

This reclusiveness had fueled all manner of rumour and speculation about their kind, about their future plans, the means and motives of whatever government they had if any, and in the less reputable communities, of their sexual prowess which was less a rumour, likely due to how surprisingly well documented it was.

There was, according to the histories no species more sexually skilled than those of Elven Sirs and Ladies. Legends went so far as to tell that in ancient times and early civilisation humans bred solely for the propagation of the species, until they met the race who taught them the elvish arts, which brought about the discovery of sex for pleasure through secret techniques that humans still use today, though in a less graceful form, adding their own crude, somewhat animalistic twist to things.

This certainly hadn’t helped the Elves opinion of the other races. When required to interact with other species they often found themselves the targets of pathetic but determined flirtation and harassment. Despite the fact that in hundreds of years not a single Elf maiden had given herself to anyone outside of Elf society, it didn’t stop them all from constantly trying it on with them.

The same, however, could not be said for the males, for whom it was almost certain the legends and histories of their races prowess were solely based on. Once in a generation, an Elf male would find themselves spurred by a spontaneous urge for adventure and irresistible wanderlust. They would set out to explore the world, interacting with the ‘lesser’ races, to learn all he could with the ultimate goal of returning to his people and teach them about any new methods, philosophies, and news from exotic far-off lands.

While these males were somewhat frowned upon for their lack of conservative tendencies and for not following the traditions, the knowledge they returned bore an untold wealth for a secluded people and upon returning, if they returned, would often be regarded as wise masters, forgiven of their trespasses in lieu of the value of what they returned.

It’s often noted that the paths these wanderlust-driven males took could be easily tracked by recording the age of the sudden crop of half-elves that sprouted up in each village, town and city they had passed through, with many a broken marriage and guilty woman accompanying the young half-elflings with their slightly pointed ears and often mischievous glint in their eyes. Though the elven traits diluted quickly down the generations, having a half-elf in the family was often considered a charm of good health and longevity.

Scar, in his youth, had been gripped by this wanderlust. Each second he spent among the trees of his people was an oppression which weighed heavily on his willowy shoulders. Each lesson a bore, each courtship a passing fancy. The day of his adulthood, when he was officially declared on his name day to be a full adult in Elven society he announced his intentions and ambitions to leave. To travel the lands, to learn the news and to seek new technologies to help their kind.

His dreams were met with speculation, but could not be denied.

So he set out wandering the lands, keeping primarily to himself. He observed, watched and read, easily picking up the language of the common folk from overheard conversations and papers. He soon learned that several of the other races had been at war, only recently coming to peaceful terms, bringing a desire for trade and prosperity to the war-torn populaces, forcing co-operation despite the distrust between the races. A city, Yulani, due to its location, had become a sort of de facto capital for all inter-race mingling. It was said that within its walls Yulani had every species, every trade good and probably, every crime.

Scar had pondered upon this for some time. The races had always been separate, interacting with each other, yes, but maintaining the integrity of their borders through regular small skirmishers small claim warring. There had before never been a city of such a mix of peoples and prospects.

He questioned why he would spend almost all of his time travelling the lands and camping on roads when all of the world had been brought together for him in this crockpot of a city? Where all the news, discoveries and peoples mixed? Well, not all of the peoples actually. They were missing an Elf.

Following his decision to use the advantages of the city, Scar had spent weeks exploring its streets and it’s secrets, seeing in his discoveries all manner of new and terrifying races. Humans, orcs, dwarves, goblins and gnomes he was all previously aware of, but there were wolves, nagas, arachnids, creatures he couldn’t even identify, all speaking the common tongue for common gains.

He had spent a long time debating with himself how he would occupy his time here, how he would make the coin he would require to put himself up in any form of decent accommodation that would allow him the time to speak and listen to the peoples of the land, not to mention cause a small population boom in half-elves, as was only tradition, of course.

Following much time and thought he found himself settling on the Thorned Rose, now hiring. An old tavern, situated between a stable and a smithy it provided the ideal location for your middling patron to sleep, drink and generally be merry.

The landlady was a formidable blonde, mature woman, perhaps in her early forties with a plush, full figure that to him seemed enticingly exotic given that elves were at best lithe and at worst basically sticks, save for the occasional exceptional specimen, which he supposed he was, with his thick thighs and butt.

He reckoned as a barman he would be at the forefront of conversation with all those who came in, able to overhear any form of conversation and all manner of news from across the bar with his superior hearing, Elvish ears weren’t just for show after all.

Despite his lack of training and experience in the area, he was sure he could persuade the landlady that having the only elf in the city pouring her drinks and serving them food would be a surefire way to attract a steady stream of newly intrigued customers. With his reasoning sounded and his arguments prepared, his mind was made up. This would be his adventure, Scar, the Elf Barman of the Thorned Rose Inn.

In some time he found himself waiting outside in the dark, wearing a black and hooded robe to disguise his nature and leaving him to blend seamlessly into the shadows of a doorway. He watched her, her top, as was typical with women of her trade, was displaying a generous portion of cleavage, her blonde hair tied back with a few stray wisps of hair loose around her, eyes fierce as she wielded a broom, all but sweeping her drunk and apparently all female clientele of the night out onto the street, shouting at them as she did to keep them moving, but treating them fairer than they probably deserved given their state and her level of frustration. She ensured their coats were on and their pockets secure, a woman of some morals, then.

She stood in the doorway for a few long moments, watching as her drunk regulars gravitated towards each other, forming a ball of mixed race women that all leaned on the other for support, one hoisting a bottle she had hidden under her coat, raising cheer and then raising song, a tune that brutally offended Scar’s delicate ears. The ball of drunkards rocked down the street, passing the bottle and singing with one another.

The woman shook her head with a small smile and stepped back inside, the evening becoming quiet. Scar steeled himself, this would be his first real interaction with a non-Elf since his adventure began. His previous extreme forays of, ‘I’ll buy blank. Here’s the money.’, didn’t really count in his mind as being as important as what was to follow.

After pausing to make sure she wasn’t ushering anyone else out of the tavern he stepped forward, pushing open the almost shut door and letting himself inside. The smell of beer and sweat hit him like a wall, overpowering him for a moment and causing the opening words on his lips to falter.

The landlady let out an audible sigh, “I told you fuckers to go home!” she called out as she wiped down the bar glancing over her shoulder and seeming surprised, she eyed the dark, hooded, mysterious figure with some disdain, leaning forward casually, masking the motion of her hand as it reached under the counter, likely towards some weapon he imagined. “…Room and board mayhaps?” she asked, voice casual, but with an air of, ‘You don’t want to mess with me.’

“Actually..” Scar started in his politest of tones, voice light and almost musical, “I was wondering about that ‘for hire’ sign?” he asked, lifting his head and throwing back his hood, a dramatic flourish he had practised.

The landlady, Mayla, stared at the impossible sight, before her stood a beautiful elven maiden, her hair long, flowing down to her waist, red like amber and fire intertwined in strands, her skin pale and flawless, her eyes a vibrant forest green. She was flat chested sure, but everything else about her screamed of her femininity.

Her face was oval shaped, with delicately arched eyebrows and a straight but small nose, wide eyes, defined cheekbones and plump lips. Her body was slender, narrow shoulders lessening into a tight waist before flaring out into broad curving hips, she didn’t doubt her ass and thighs would be perfectly sculpted too.

“Er..” Scar interrupted, he knew his presence often put humans off a little but they usually still tried to converse with him. “Are you okay over there Miss?..”

And the Elf’s voice! So sweet and heavenly, it brought a blush to Mayla’s cheeks.

“An Elf lass? Looking for work here? You’re joking me on, right?” Mayla asked, hands no longer reaching for a weapon, instead clutching the side of the bar as if to reaffirm her reality.

Scar blinked, standing up a little straighter and pursing his full lips into a pout. “I’ll have you know I’m a male.” he stated, indignantly, his cheeks blushing a little out of embarrassment, “And I’ll have you know I’m a particularly masculine male for my kind!” a lie, but she wouldn’t have any comparison to draw off of, he thought and hoped.

A male? Even after he had stated it she couldn’t see it in his voice or in his body.