It was always so simple to start. What could spring from a single fire. Put on a pot of anything, and people were bound to turn up. The stew was simple, and salty. Just dried meats and rations from his pack. It was little more than to soften the twice baked bread that kept so long on the trail. The first few had passed him by, eager to get the early advantage. The ones that came laden more heavily, would regard his blaze, and permit themselves a moment of respite to freshen themselves before the endeavor at hand. As the pot emptied, there were donations and trade.What had started as boiled meat now had some hearty root vegetables simmering in a thickening gravy.

His fire wasn't alone anymore. Tents had started to go up. Other pools of light glowing in front of them. Tyren surveyed the scene where he stood. Cleaning a freshly caught fish at a folding table that one of his new acquaintances was letting him use in return for the warm greeting. It would go in the pot too, but the meat would disappear if it was added too soon. He rinsed his catch, before setting it on a skewer and leaning it near the fire. He rinsed his hands as well, picking the ichor from beneath his claws. Black scales shone dull on the backs of his hands, just as they did on his cheeks and along the back of his neck, but his features were still very much human. 

Yes, people were flocking to the ruins. It never mattered where he wound up, he was always in the middle of something. Some spoke of wealth, some spoke of duty, and gods. Perhaps he would venture inside, now that the place to retreat was becoming established. It just wouldn't hurt to make a few friends first. 

Oh, what a swell idea it was to enter a new land and journey through it without a map or guide! Definitely one of the most brilliant ideas Anne has ever had! God, she was such a hopeless case. She had hoped to make a good start in her life, get a good job and hopefully open up a business of her own. She wanted to make her parents proud, but, it was starting to look like their money and time was wasted so that Anne could sail to Revaliir. Poor Anne was such an airhead and klutz, should could hardly do anything right, especially when she's on her own. But her desperation to make her parents proud, and her natural optimistic attitude made her push on despite the odds and how much she messed up. She just isn't one to back down in the presence of a challenge.

So, when she found herself lost, she wasn't the least bit surprised. She only groaned wearily, slouching forward while holding the straps of her backpack that held all of her current belongings. Her brow was furrowed while her eyes gazed lazily ahead, paying little attention to her surroundings. But, just when she was about to curse her luck for getting lost, she caught a wonderful scent. Someone was cooking nearby, and her entire demeanor raised and brightened like she was half dead and coming back to life.

Naturally she was drawn towards the aroma, her slow, lazy pace picking up to an excited jog. If someone was nearby then she could finally some directions! And, perhaps test the food to see if it's as good as it smells. Her mother was a baker, and her dream is to become one as well with a bakery of her own, so one can imagine that she's drawn to food.

Soon enough she found herself in what appeared to be a camp of some sort, filled with people she could get directions from. But the cook was what interested her the most, and so she searched the camp until she found the one responsible for making the wonderful smelling food. She offered him a friendly smile, bluebell eyes attempting to meet his with a light wave of her small hand. “Hello,” she greeted. “Could you help me, if you don't mind? I seem to have gotten myself lost without a map or guide to…” Her words faded as her eyes slid away to gaze upon the fish cooking on skewers, the aroma distracting her and making her curious. “Are, uh,” she pointed at the fish, glancing back up at the man. “Are those done yet?”

Leave it to a teen to get greatly distracted by her stomach and baker lineage.

There was always a rhythm to camp life. Some things just always had to be done. Whether or not the group was large enough to have followers, someone had to tend the animals, someone had to get water. Even for folks that traveled light and slept under the stars, although that was never as comfortable as the stories let people believe. There was never a way to become more intimately away of how many sticks and small rocks were on the seemingly bare earth than to wake up in the cold morning air with all of them soundly embedded in your spine. With the usual hustle and bustle it was always easier to spot what was out of place, and she was definitely out of place. Shorter than him by a good hand span, she lacked the armaments of the other folks who had taken up temporary residence. Perhaps she was a magic user? She was young, it was obvious in her face, and the way she wore her bluish black hair reminded him of many girls that still sat at their parent’s table. She wasn’t wearing any armor. Neither was he, but he knew the patches of black scales under his clothes were better than nothing.

He was a bit surprised when she marched right up to him of all people. Although she tried to ask for some information on the area, he broke into a smile when the real reason became obvious. A chuckle escaped his lips as he knelt down next to the fire, rummaging through his bag to produce a wooden bowl. “Maybe we can figure out where here is after you’ve eaten.” With a spoon he scooped some of the vegetables into the bowl, before tipping the pot to pour some of the broth in with it. The drops that escaped sizzled and hissed as they disappeared into the fire. The bowl he gave to the girl so he could free up his hands. The fish was already held open with each half on a skewer, so he simply folded it along the spine to separate the two. It was just a small thing, he’d have to catch a few more or something bigger to fortify the pot anyway so no harm in sharing the first portion as the skin got crispy around the edges. “No sense trying to do thinking on an empty stomach, because there’s only one thing on your mind.” Half of the fish went back next to the fire, though a little further away, the other he held out for her to take.

He settled back on his haunches before taking a seat, one leg up with his knee bent, the other crooked on the ground in front of him. There wouldn’t be a point in trying to talk before she at least started eating, so he prodded at the logs, pushing them apart so the fire would get lower. Satisfied he turned his attention back to the girl. “So I know there’s a river, with some small fish, a bit of a walk in that direction.” He pointed forward, which happened to be away from the ruins, as he was sitting with his back towards them. “But if you’re looking for a map, you may have to talk to one of these other fine folks.”

People that came here to ruins seeking their fortune generaly were more or less prepared, even if they went in light, so to speak. Most of them had some kind of combat training of some kind. Most had something that could be considered proper armor and armaments. And while not every single one was squeaky clean and well groomed, most still were on the more hygenic side of things. And mostly that's because people who cannot afford any of those things tend to beg on the streets of towns or cities, here is rather a poor spot for a begger to set up shop.

So now imagine people's suprise when they saw him. A man who looks nothing like the type of guy who hangs around old ruins seeking glory and that's because he didn't came here for treasure. He is just very very lost.

Said man has long, unkempt brown hair that never seen a barber and are probably very greasy, His face is covered up by beard that is as equaly long and disheveld as his hair on top of his head. His nose is unnaturally crooked to the left side of his face, a clear sign that it was once broken and it healed in such a way. He wore a tunic filled with holes, with right sleeve being torn at it's midpoint, revealing a forearm covered in an old looking bandage that wasn't changed in quite a while, if ever. His pants were even in worse condition as both of it's legs were torn in such a manner that they barely managed to get to his knees. His boots were in somewhat better condition, but right one had a hole through which man's big toe could be seen. This person seems to be incarnation of a typical hobo, except for few things that are out of place like the dark grey glove he wears, typical of blacksmiths. Those are in good shape, as is the sword man holds. While nothing spectacular in department of looking interesting, weapon was still superb when it came to how solid it looked, and how well maintained it appeared to be. And the overall build of his body was also quite good, broead shoulders, thin waist and some msucles could be seen.

The man looked around the camp with apparent confusion in his brown eyes. He clearly not sure where is he or what he is doing here right. Though he then grabed his stomach in nigh universal sign of being quite hungry and no sooner when he did that he looked upon Tyren and his cauldron, he made his way towards the cook.

- Oh ehm sorry to be a bother, but I haven' eaten in quite a while…. ehm do you have anything that I could buy with few silver? - Man asked the cook. Man had rather deep voice, though it was clear from how it sounded that he was tired.

Anne smiled a little while sheepishly rubbing her nape, a little embarrassed by how easily she gets distracted by her stomach. The most important thing on her mind was to find out where she is and how to get to the nearest town. There, she could find a place to stay until she can have a place of her own, and hopefully obtain a map so she won’t get lost again. But, there was nothing wrong with putting that task aside and allowing herself to stay and eat real quick.

She licked her lips as she watched the man prepare a bowl of food, her stomach rumbling. “Ah, thank you,” she said, taking the bowl as it was handed to her. While the man started working on the fish, she took in a deep breath to get a good smell of the stew. It smelled absolutely wonderful, and it was a small act that gave her the push she needed to dig in. Anne attempted to get little bits of everything the stew had to offer in the first bite. She moaned happily as she soon found that it tasted just as good as it smelled. She took another bite, and then another, eating it surprisingly quickly, getting half way through the bowl by the time the man spoke again, and offered her part of the fish he had been working on. Without hesitation, she took it, giving it one quick taste before completely devouring it. Not too long afterwards she finished off her stew, holding the bowl with both hands while giving her meal a few minutes to settle in her stomach.

“That was exquisite,” she suddenly said, smiling at the man whom was now sitting comfortably while prodding the fire. “Thank you so much, Sir. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was,” there was a small giggle that escaped her lips, and then the man began speaking. “I see,” she muttered half to herself once the man had finished. “Getting directions should be good enough. I can always get a map once I reach a town.” Though she wished those words could be true, she knew she was probably too much of a screw up to even manage following simple directions. Honestly, she’d be better off with a guide.

Suddenly, another man turned up, standing next to Anne. She blinked with a mixture of curiosity and slight shock as she took in his appearance, something that gave off different signals. Some parts of him looked as if he were a homeless man, and others suggested that he takes care of himself rather well. But she quickly looked away, reminding herself that it was rude to stare. And then his words made her realize something. “Oh, yes!” She leaned forward a little closer to the cook with wide, youthful eyes. “How much do I owe you?”

Even as he smiled with the young girl, something else did catch his attention, but he watched from the corner of his eye, not wanting to spook the newcomer. The man was in a state. Tyren himself was a vagrant and a wanderer, but he did his utmost to maintain himself. His clothes were mended where they tore, and to avoid sickness and disease he did strive for cleanliness. Not to mention, when he would turn up in a town, it was easy enough to receive the cold shoulder, without giving people a reason to mistrust him. The gloves and the sword did not match the rest of his appearance. Either this character had his own priorities, or had come about them more recently.

Tyren had begun preparing a second bowl as soon as he spotted the man, and this time it was no surprise that he came towards the cook pot. Even as the question left his lips, Tyren offered the stew, with the other half of the fish to him. He wore an easy smile, but still looked the man square in the eyes as he did so. “You can keep your silver. If it’s been so long since your last meal, we simply can’t have that, friend.” Hospitality was an immutable law. Gods struck down those who turned someone away from a warm fire and a hot meal. That did not mean this fellow had his trust just yet.

The girl rapidly devoured her food, and he chuckled at the enthusiasm. “Hunger is the best sauce, but I'm glad you liked it. Were I in a real kitchen I could probably make something worthy of such praise” When she asked about the cost as well, and he waved the question away. He was no swindler. “Gifts are free. It’s favors you have to be careful of.” In some of the dealings he had faced, if you learned the cost after, it could be rather steep. Perhaps the beggar fellow knew that all too well himself. Besides, most of what he had served had been freely given to him. He just had the fire going when people arrived. Was always amazing how things could run smoothly with a little good will. 

He was faced with a dilemma though. Generosity had cost him the meat for the stew. Not that fish was the best for a soup pot, but it’s what he had. He leaned back, resting on a hand and looking over his shoulder to call to the folks at the nearby tent. “Jorgin? I’m going to go check the snares. Can you keep an eye on my things?” A large hairy fellow nodded back at him. Tyren rose to his feet again and dusted himself off. He almost asked the girl if she’d like to join him, but decided, it was probably best if she weren’t around for that part. “Hey friend.” He looked at the beggar with the fine sword. “No harm comes to lady, right?” The question hung in the air a moment. That would be his price for feeding the man. While there were other women, warriors at that, in the encampment, there were others he didn’t know, and who might not treat a young girl with the consideration deserved. He didn’t feel the request would apply as strongly to the fellow, unless he missed his guess about the man, but it could serve as warning as well. With a firm nod, he grinned again, showing his fangs. “I shouldn’t be gone long.” With that, he turned and wandered away through the camp, in the direction of the trees. 

Thomas took the food as soon as the cook finished his sentence and begun eating it like a soldier who had been on the march for days without rest. He only stoped his consumption in the middle of it in order to thank his benefactor for the genorosity given to him, though ut was barely understandable as his face was filled with fish when he spoke. When he finished the meal, Thomas patted his own belly in clear sign of being satisfied.

All the while girl next to him was enjoying her meal too. He could tell that she was in some ways in very similar situation as himself. Things that pointed that was lack of any kind of armament on her or spelunking gear that was very much so present with almost all adventurers at the camp. Not to mention the seeming lack of other nick-nacks and stuff, people who came here to claim the treasures of the past had on them. She was probably lost while wandering just like him. He didn't know if he should be happy to find somone as lost as himself or to be sorry for her……..

Either way the girl finished her food and complimented the cooking ability of their benefactor, though the man seemed to undermine his own craft with too much humility, at least in Thomas' opinion and while he wanted to speak about it he decided against that since it might have been rather rude.

The cook then decided to leave their company in order to look up if the snares had caught something but before he went to do it he turned towards a hairy man named Jorgin and asked to look after his things, This was rather interesting to Thomas, as it implied that the cook knew his fair share of people around the camp for him to be so trusting and even ask some of them to look after his belongings. Though when he thought about it, it made a considerable amounts of sense.

But then the cook turned to him and said one simple phrase "No harm comes to lady". It was both a warning and a instruction, one he decided it was best to follow.
- Ehm of course I wouldn' even think of doin' anythin' harmful to th' lady over by my side. 'am not that type o' perosn.

“Oh, well, thank you for your generosity,” Anne said to the man with a bright smile. Part of her still wanted to do something as a thank you; food as good as his shouldn’t just be given out. But, she would respect his decision to go unpaid. And it wasn’t as if she had much to offer him anyway. “I think you should open a restaurant of your own. Despite what you might think, your food is certainly good enough to bring swarms,” she added after he mentioned being in a kitchen.

Then, he turned to the other man next to her after calling someone over to watch his things, gave him a word of warning and went on his way. Anne’s smile remained, even though she stood awkwardly at his side, clasping her hands together in front of her. And no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t keep her eyes from drawing back towards the man. “Um…” she began sheepishly. “Do you…do you need any help with your clothing… or hair?” Her eyes widened a little and she raised her hands, shaking them defensively with slightly flushed cheeks. “I don’t mean any offense. It’s just…I learned tailoring from my mama, as well as how to cut hair and style it. I…” her voice trailed off as she began trying to figure out how to word what she wanted to say. She only wanted to help the man. Really, his clothing and hygiene isn’t very healthy. His clothing won’t protect him from things that he needs protection from. Though natural hair oil is actually rather healthy for it, it still needs to be kept clean from time to time at least.

“I’m more than willing to fix your clothing, or make you some new ones if you want?” She looked up at him, trying to hide her hope of getting to show off her skills.

A restaurant of his own. Wasn’t that a thought. Not one he hadn’t had before, but one that was often dismissed as being a bit absurd. Still, the young lady’s enthusiasm for simple camp fare brought a smile to his face as he wandered off into the trees.

Cleaning the catch was certainly a little trickier in the woods. It was something Tyren had resorted to before, but it was always harder for one to convince oneself to do something the hard way, when there was a table he could work at just a short walk back. Still, he persevered. The girl was sweet, and while she likely knew where meat came from, the easiest answer would still be the butcher, and not the hare that had gotten themselves trapped in the snares. The last thing a bunch of hungry people wanted was the moral crisis of a sweet young girl seeing a bunny cut up for stew.

Thus he returned, from the side of the camp where the tent covered his approach, with several pieces that could be identified as meat and haunch rather than furry friend. Squirrels. Big squirrels. If anyone asked. He split a stick to make more skewers, threading pieces onto them. Fish were one thing. People always felt some kind of alien detachment to fish. Lived its whole life in the water and was hardly recognizable. As long as you got rid of the head, people always found eyes unnerving, didn’t matter what it was. Some of the pieces that were more bone than meat went right into the pot, but the pieces that had more bite to them he set by the fire to grill. He was quiet through the process, not wishing to provoke any kind of conversation or response on the topic. It was food. The vagabond he knew would be perfectly on the same page with that, but his heart ached at the uncomfortable questions the girl could lay upon him.

Tyren did retrieve his bag, and he produced a leather envelope from within. Inside of that, were stored rows of small vials, and he murmured with a degree of uncertainty. He was running low on supplies. Spices could be a very expensive and delicate trade depending on what part of the world one found themselves in. Things like salt could be found wherever the ocean sprayed on rock, and mint was a veritable weed, but peppercorns were particular about a certain climate, and cinnamon was only for those with the primal ingenuity to peel the bark off of trees. However, this was not a man about to partake in a bland feast. He took a small brass mortar and pestle from his pack, and crushed some of the peppercorns and salt into a rough mixture, and sprinkled it onto the meat as it was grilling. “This is something I’ll be a little more proud of, but we do have to share.”