Jura gracefully hops off of a lustrously-armored sprightly white mare.
A lustrously-armored sprightly white mare begins to follow Jura.

Straightening into rigid, militant attention, Burk squares his shoulders and crisply salutes Jura.

You say to Burk, "Klonk Gnarlstone. Fine, upstanding gentleman. Looked smashing in gold pin-stripes.

"At ease, Recruit" Jura remarks, giving a noticeably lazy salute.

Burk releases himself from his tensed posture, lowering his shoulders to a more relaxed position.

You have emoted: Eleanor upnods a greeting in place of saluting or any suchlike.

Recruit Burk says to Legionnaire Jura Ve'kahi, the Guerilla, "Need Burk?"

She is a typical Human vampire with resplendent red hair and notably fair skin laid out over a lithe,
 voluptuous form. Graceful curves accent her every motion with elegance and poise. The height of
stature peaks just over five foot seven inches. Flaming red hair cascades down to nip at her
shoulders, radiating against her pale skin. Her blue eyes, like a sea of mystery, pierce out at the
world, almost as if offering a challenge to any who would catch her gaze. Her face is captivating, a
petite nose and sharp cheek bones, accented perfectly by lavish lips, curled into a confident sneer.
She walks with the blessing of Iosyne.

              (fitted to her feet and legs) : a pair of women's black suede, knee-high boots
            (snuggly fitted over the torso) : a form-fitting long-sleeved black shirt
               (hanging from the shoulders) : an elegant blood cape
         (form fitted to the hips and legs) : skin-tight jet-black leggings
     (pristine and form fitted to the body) : winged jet-black fullplate
                  (on the left ring finger) : a starstone engagement ring wreathed in roses

Finding a spot at the bar herself, Jura slams a bottle down, and replies "No, Recruit. No I do not."

The corners of Burk's mouth turn up as he grins mischievously.

Burk sips from a long-necked glass bottle with traces of Spirean Whitebeer.

You have emoted: Eleanor seems to eye Jura at length, over the rim of his brandy. His air is
contemplative, and his expression somewhat unreadable.

Recruit Burk says, in a guttural grunt, "This one has a fire inside her."

You nod your head at Burk.

Jura sips from a long-necked glass bottle of a sweet, honeyed plum wine.

Suddenly, you say, "I do hope you don't take this as rude..."

You say to Jura, "But what part of the land does your lineage hail from?"

You have emoted: Eleanor takes a sip of his brandy.

A grook girl, tugging on her rucksack, exits to the east.
Recruit Burk says, "Burk hunt."

You have emoted: Eleanor glances across at Burk. "Ah? Well, good luck and hunt well. Nice to meet
you, good sir."

Burk's mouth turns up as his face breaks into a smile.

"What?" Jura asks, raising a brow. "I don't know, I don't care." the red head concludes with a shrug
and a shake of her head.

Burk nods in response before turning with a wave. "Bye good people."
Burk leaves to the east.

You have emoted: Eleanor turns his attention back toward Jura. "Oh, just idle curiosity." He casts
another glance up and down Jura's appearance. "Similarities," he explains, "But the person you're
similar to doesn't, ah. Have a lineage, so to speak."

Jura raises an eyebrow at you.
Simply, Legionnaire Jura Ve'kahi, the Guerilla asks you, "And who might that be?"

You have emoted: Eleanor reaches up to adjust the goggles that sit atop his head. "My, er- wives. So
to speak."

Jura slides the bottle off to the side, replacing it with a cup in front of her. "Why?" the woman
asks, turning her attention to the wall behind the bar.

You have emoted: Eleanor quirks a brow. "Why what," he asks, probing for clarification.

Flatly, Legionnaire Jura Ve'kahi, the Guerilla asks you, "Why do you find me 'similar' to them?"

You have emoted: Eleanor indicates with a flick of his finger. "Red hair. Pale skin. Blue eyes.
Similarities in physique." He gives a crooked grin. "Standing side by side, a person could possibly
mistake you for sisters."

Jura looks to you, placing her elbows on the bar and right fist into the left hand comfortably. "Who
is she? Does it matter?" she asks easily, though her tone is more sarcastic than anything.

You have emoted: Eleanor stands up out of his seat, throwing back the last of his brandy. "It
doesn't, overmuch," he concedes. "Just an idle curiosity." He sets his glass down, and nods to the
tender, then looks back to Jura. "Anyway, I'd best get back to work. Enjoy your evening, hm!"

//kbye
You see exits leading east (open pine door) and down (closed pine door).