In a tavern between the dimensions, neither here nor there, where Ley lines meet and the potential for magic is a great one, there was a bartender wiping her mahagoni bar clean with a well-used rug. Putting the rug aside, she took out a much cleaner one and she picked up one of the dried glasses. As she started polishing it, she scanned the room.

This tavern was special in more than one aspect. The most commonly known was its location. The tavern was accessible by costumers from all planes. Demons, Sidhe, Dwarves and Human alike. This accessibility was sure nice, but also bothersome, since people tended to use it as a neutral ground for treaties and such. Most of those high-born bastards didn't even bother to ask in beforehand. Tora sighed.

But grinned fiendishly on the second thought. Because the tavern was really special in more than one aspect. The second even more interesting aspect of this tavern was Tora herself. Nothing happened in these walls she didn't know of, no secrets could be kept from her, no one could shield his identity from her prying eyes in her own realm. Every attempt of doing either of those was condemned to fail the moment one crossed her doorstep. The mightier of her customers knew and kept it secret, the others were either not interesting or unaware. It didn't matter those small fries, even the interesting ones didn't deserve to know.

She had many an interesting story to tell to her best friend once she came back from her mission. Tora knew she was okay, though she was overdue. The barkeeper scoffed at the thought and continued polishing as well as watching.

It was a calm day, today. The sun lazily painting pictures through the coloured glass of the windows. She had always admired the churches high and beautifully coloured ones whilst simply passing by and wondered how it might look on the inside. A question only answered when she got her own-coloured windows, since her kind found it rather unbecoming treating on holy ground.

Even though she had quit her old ways, mostly, she would never be able to change what she was.

Though nigh no one alive knew who she had been before she became Tora the bartender.

Not even Moira, her best friend.

Her gaze flew over the few customers in the main room. Their heads bowed over several assortments of breakfast, chatting happily with each other. Tora let the stream of voices and thoughts pass through her mind without bothering to look further into any of them. They were trivial and not even slightly interesting. Letting aside the silent praise for her cooking. She smiled as she caught the thought of one knight in the far corner who compared his breakfast to his late mothers cooking- something he glorified in his memory. It was nice do make people happy. Those emotions didn't taste half as bad as others of her kind stated. They were harder to get.

Holding up the glass she had polished against one of the clear sun beams, Tora probed its stainlessness. Hygiene aside. She had a reputation to uphold.

In the whole tavern there wasn't a speck of dust, or out of place, everything was in perfect hygienic order. Some of her regular customers even joked that dust and stain were far too afraid to bother Tora. Though the barkeeper just laughed along them, the mightier costumers were far more cautious avoiding any assumptions regarding Tora. The barkeeper grinned as her long slender finger re-empowered the its runes hidden under the bar-plate. They had several uses...

The savoury peace and quiet that had characterised this morning were rudely disturbed as the door was kicked open. So was the cleanness of the flagstones, Tora sourly observed. Mud and blood upon two dirty boots. Mercenary boots. Her glance wandered higher. A worn hunting-dress thoroughly sullied and stained with blood, phlegm, mud and the hell knew what else.

Tora sighed inwardly. Any other customer she would have thrown out. But not her. Long black hair, in a mess as always, pale complexion and sparkling slitted forest-green eyes.

The mercenary that had just entered was no other than Moira, her best friend. Tora smiled inwardly as she recollected their first meeting. The young and rebellious princess had not looked any different from now, besides not being heavily injured as she had been back then. Tora had patched her up and made her stay until she was healed for real. They were best friends since then.

But even though, there was no way Tora would allow such sloppy manners in her tavern. She shot Moira another glance fiery enough to make anyone else tremble but not her friend. The younger woman grinned as met the barkeeper’s eyes that promised a very cruel and creative form of torture if she advanced even one more step without leaving her boots.

Moira who knew her friend all-too-well reached out and produced a little black cat that had been hidden in the shadows somewhere between her hair and backpack. Tora who had been moments away from crushing her only friend held her actions.

Then she extended her hand in the traditional way to greet a cat, by presenting her sent to the noble creature. The said noble didn't show any signs of objections, but jumped instead onto Tora's shoulder.

Seeing the pleased expression of Tora's Moira couldn't help but chuckle. The scene was simply gold. The grim reaper in guise of a bartender melting away like ice in the sunshine.

Even though Moira hurried to speak before Tora's attention would return to the sullied floor.

'Well, that's your new guardian. A relative of mine. She is a Caithsidhe and her name is Sweeper the shadow-cat. Sweeper will follow your orders. Happy birthday by the way. Sorry I am late... I got you know summoned.' the mercenary told Tora and flinched at the last part. Tora knew how she felt, she, too, had hated the feeling of being summoned. 'I will be back as soon as I can... I've to report back to my mother.' Moira added and fled the tavern.

Tora shook her head and watched her new 'inventory', now situated on top of the bar, getting comfortable. She smiled. Even though she had completely forgotten about birthdays and the date she had told her friends was made up, she really liked Sweeper.

Turning her gaze away from the now sleeping cat, Tora saw the door opening again. In a much timider manner than last time.

A small silver-haired elven girl tip-toed into the room. Her grey eyes wide open, breathing rapidly. 'This little mouse seems to have encountered a cat recently. I wonder if she is here for help. Well, if she is I am going to help her. I am in a good mood and Moira owes me one for the floor... I guess it's just the right payback for that...'Tora thought grinning as the girl sat down at one of the nearer tables, clearly collecting every ounce of bravery she could muster before addressing her. The silver-haired gulped several times. 'Moira hates elves, as they are mortal and haughty towards their ancestors in the Sidhe. This one seems to be real trouble and timid at that. This is going to be fun to watch.' Tora thought as she invited the girl over.