Alita
Alita Calendra was whiling away her spare time at the inn; specifically in the tavern. Since the Guild had placed that pompous fool, Talon, in charge of their group, she technically didn't have the authority to take on jobs by herself. It was frustrating to not be in charge, but even worse was that Talon seemed to think that he could simply dismiss her because she was a woman. A sensible person might have just kept their head down so long as the coin kept coming in, but Alita was hardly sensible when her pride was wounded. She'd spent the past year showing up Talon at every turn: she poked holes in his plans, stole his kills during jobs and occasionally ensured that his spellbook was "misplaced", causing him to spend hours looking for it. She'd never been caught stealing his book, but no one else in the party disliked Talon quite like Alita did.
Alita was in a particularly foul mood today, having had an argument with Talon that morning, and since she wasn't able to stab monsters at the moment, she was instead drinking her troubles away and glaring at anyone who came near her.
Alita was an attractive woman; standing at 5'5", she had long black hair, currently done up in a braid that fell just below her shoulder blades, and emerald green eyes. Alita had an hourglass figure that practically begged to be starred at, which she used to great effect in her armor. Her exquisitely tailored and enchanted leather armor drew her opponents' eye along the curves of her body while still protecting her. There was a small gap of skin open on her thighs between her armored skirt and her thigh-high boots; the gap wasn't large enough to be a prominent target and the enchantment on the armor protected it along with the rest of her body, but the little glimpse of skin was often enough to distract opponents and leave them open to attack. She also wore a veritable arsenal on her belt: she had a rapier at one hip and a gladius on the other, and a mace dangled by the gladius. Furthermore, there were a set of five daggers hidden behind her back, as well as a sap for when she wanted to take someone out without killing them. between the sour look on her face and how heavily she was armed, only the waitress who refilled Alita's tankard dared come near her.
-----
Markus
Markus had quickly become a recognizable face in Ide; with his massive height and build, ornate armor and outlandish spear, it was hard not to recognize him. Many people simply referred to him as "The Knight", which was accurate (it was the title he held, after all), but Ser Markus Ornstein was determined to make everyone recognize his name one day. To everyone who asked, he told the same story: he was a knight with his honor in tact, but no lord in the Theocracy of Londo wished to take him into their service. He would never give a straight answer as to why, simply shrugging and dismissing the question, often stating that the other knights must have simply displayed more valor than he.
Markus towered over all other men, standing at 6'3" with shaggy blonde hair and bronze eyes. Today, as on most days, he wore his magnificent armor: an enchanted mithral breastplate with enough bronze mixed in to give it a dull golden color. His helmet, which was one of the more interesting features of the armor, was presently down. The helmet was built into the armor and had a minor enchantment that would cause it to raise up and form around his head when he entered combat, making it look like a lion had engulfed his head in its mouth. He could easily see out through the slit in the mouth and his training and the enchantment in the armor compensated for any visibility issues he might have. The armor made hardly any noise as he walked down the street: the mithral making little noise against the layers of cloth beneath them. If one listened closely, one might head the light jingling of chainmail, but it was hardly noticeable over the bustle of the crowd.
Today, Markus did not carry his greatspear or, for that matter, his backpack with him. In fact, besides his coinpurse, he had only one other item with him: an anklet he'd had specially commissioned for this day, which he held in his left hand. He'd seen how the elf, Merised, had been admiring him from afar for the past year and decided that it was high time he did something about it. After all, any man would kill to have such a lovely woman by their side, so Markus decided that it was time that he made her his before he had to duel another man for her. He had no doubts that he would win if it came down to that, but he had little interest in spilling the blood of his fellow man if he could avoid it. He knew that Merised could be found in the library, so that was his destination. He was no stranger to the library: unlike many of the brutes the Guild employed, Ser Markus could duel just as well with words as he could with his spear. He had become familiar with Merised's favorite reading places, so it was simple enough to seek her out. She also had a good chance to see him coming, since the top of his head could be seen above some of the shorter bookshelves.
"Ah, lady Merised," he said, smiling upon finding her, his deep voice rumbling in his chest. "I do not wish to intrude, but do you perhaps have a moment to talk?"