"There's room in the world for all kinds of crazy nonsense. I was a sailor half a lifetime ago, saw some crazy stuff. Magic forest? Maybe I'll reserve judgement until I see it, but I won't go 'yeah, right'."

At the vodka-downing, "Impressive. This brew is from Orussia. The Rus take their drinking seriously, that's for sure."

"The magic forest story would probably be more plausible if I knew how it worked. All I know is that I was in a forest with friends, in a country where I don't look odd--" Okay so the moonsilver tattoos look strange everywhere, but leaving that aside-- "and then I ended up in a different forest sans friends. So.

I might have to see if I can work my way over to Orussia at some point. Sounds like a fun place."

"Some people don't believe in Wild Magic. I know it's rare, but it does exist, and it does things like that. Sorry for your, er, displacement. As for Orussia, they have a dour sort of culture - perhaps not as fun as you're thinking. I'd advise talking to a Rus before going through the trouble to get all the way there, at any rate. You could stop over in Suomus or something maybe, halfway between here and there."

One of the bar patrons says, "You kinda remind me of the, what's the name, the Maya? Tattoos. You from somewhere with a lot of steep mountains and ocean on either side?"

She waves a hand. "Ehh, don't worry. I'll work my way back. I'm probably gonna stay round these parts for awhile before heading off somewhere else, and who knows, may be I'll find a way to get back by then."

"Nah, I'm from a forest-y place with pretensions of irrigation. Only got ocean on one side too."

They both scratch their heads. "Never heard of somewhere like that where they look like you do. Big world, I guess."

"I've never heard of anywhere like this until I fell here, so-- yeah, big world."

"Aye. Not quite so big for witches, what with the flying. I've been assuming you are one, lass, but come to think of it, it ain't necessarily so."

"You assume right! Looking like what you are: so convenient," she says with enthusiasm and barely detectable sarcasm. "Though today was the first time I flew, so that was... fun."

They look a bit confused at this. One guy from one of the tables (most of the bar is paying attention to her, now) pipes up, "What, is flyin' a sin where you're from? My aunt's cousin is a witch and she says everyone starts flying when they're like twelve!"

...damnit. Time to come up with a plausible lie about Creation! "They don't think anything is wrong with flying, it's more-- I don't think we have as many witches? There seem to be more witches round these parts. So even if someone came up with a flying contraption, the know-how didn't travel far."

That's strange, but who really understands how witches work, anyway? The bar crowd seems to accept this explanation.

"Another shot of vodka, miss? I don't think I have your name yet."

Yay, her answer was non suspicious!

"Ehh, I've sated my curiosity. And I should probably stick to weaker stuff, seeing as I'm flying back out later today.

My name's Marena. And yours?"

"The name's Arwen."

The bar patrons all want to introduce themselves to the exotic witch, too! "Brynmor." "Lloyd." "Harold." "Maddox!" "Garreth."

Yay, attention! (Love of attention is gonna shorten her lifespan, but still. Attention: it's great.)

"Hi all!"

The bar crowd wants to know: What kind of adventures does a witch get into? Has she ever seen a Neuroi? Does she want a tour of Cardiff? What's her home like, was she someone important there?

(The musicians at the side of the place have finally decided what to play next, apparently. Something cheerful but slow on a stringed instrument and some kind of woodwind. Someone flips them a coin - buskers with permission to play here, apparently.)

"Apparently, getting very lost. Back in my home country, I worked as a wandering helping person; protecting places from bandits, giving advice, checking things were all going okay." ( She guesses 'Beating up gods and retrieving magic keys' is probably the wrong answer.)

"I might have? I've seen some dangerous supernatural critters, but I'm not sure they're the same as what you call Neuroi."

"I might have to pass, I'll be back up in the air pretty soon."

"I came from a city. Beautiful place. That was our main export: fancy shit. Got, uh, unfortunately conquered some years back. That's when the itinerant helper thing started."

Paris over in Gallia is famous for that. London, to a lesser extent, London's fancy shit is more like, high-tech shit? Sort of.

Someone has a sketch of a Neuroi.

Being an itinerant adventurer sort sounds risky. Is it sort of like being part of a wandering knightly order?

"I'm... pretty sure I haven't seen one of those.

It was risky, but eh, it was worth it. It's not quite like being in a knightly order? My group was a little more vigilante. They were wandering monastic orders, but they didn't go out as far into the wilderness as we did."

Monks!

The bar's opinion varies wildly on monks. Eventually the argument concludes and they come to an agreement that they're best left alone on their hills singing or copying books, or whatever it is monks do.

She makes a note that apparently these guys' monks don't seem to have sweet martial arts moves or elemental powers. Weird.

"So, any local happenings? We're pretty far from the front, right?"

"Local happenings? Not much. Business is fast and workers are scarce, because of the army. And aye, the front is all the way east in Karlsland and Orussia and the Balkans. The Neuroi will have to chew through all of Europa to get to us. Not that it's good to let that happen - that's why they're always recruiting to fight them."

"Yeah, and you wouldn't want to leave the people over their stuck on their own with the Nueroi.

Little news is good news, still."

"Yeah, that's what I mean. Even if we were fighting the Gallians twenty years ago, and the Venetians before that, and even Suomus... Greater threat and all."

"Nothing like a good threat to unite people. Happened back home, too. Did any of those wars get all the way over here?"

"Gallians did coastal raids. I think the Suomus war sank a bunch of fishing boats? Being an island means it's hard to send an army over here, it's good. Though sometimes the nobles here start fightin', too."