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Author Topic: Thirsty Herald Chapter XVII  (Read 20288 times)
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Klyff Tylssen
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Elf, Meladrhim


« Reply #15 on: February 10, 2011, 08:51:59 AM »

Klyff looked at the peculiar man, sticking his tongue out at the window. Klyff had no idea what was on the other side, but he could not imagine why the man would do this. He pondered this but for a brief second as the man turned upon him and came forward.

Well, mr. elf and mr. prospective customer, where have you been going, that you would stop by a dive like this? I hope you weren't considering a trek through the desert. But whether or not you're audacious enough to do that, hasn't a thing to do with how many pints we'll drink and how much fun we'll have today.

So what's your name, mr. elf?


Klyff was surprised to hear of the desert to the north. He had came to Strata by ship, and had honestly had no idea of what was ahead. Klyff had made treks through many dangerous terrain, but had yet to encounter a barren desert, and wasn't sure if he wanted to yet. He may just yet make another several hours long walk to Strata and scrounge up the money to make another boat trip to wherever he pleased.

Anyways, back at the moment at hand, he looked the man up and down, and while he still seem peculiar, he also seemed friendly.

Klyff, sir... Klyff Tylssen is my name. And what be yours? And, if I may, what are you doing in this tavern?

Klyff realized he probably had less of a reason to come to this tavern then this man, but he thought it a valid question either way. He knew he was probably going to be asked the same, but he was prepared to explain the simple answer. Anyways, he might as well have some fun in the bar.
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Alexandre Scriabin
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« Reply #16 on: February 10, 2011, 06:26:42 PM »

Well, mr. Tylssen, I am Russel DePriest, and I happen to propitiate this establishment. So, by living here, I make money, drink mead, ale, and stout brews alike as I so fancy, and I meet all manner of travelers coming out of Strata to the north.
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Alexandre Scriabin CD
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« Reply #17 on: February 11, 2011, 03:28:57 PM »

Claudia

Her Grandfather went off in a huff when the elf made her exit, and Claudia was left standing alone outside...

Somebody new came trotting into the tavern she was pleased to see, and then another, possibley the same age as she. Claudia brushed her dress down and half walked half ran to the new girl, who at this stage was looking into the window.
"Greetings miss welcome to the hearald, can I show you to the door of our fine establishment?" Claudia new how dumb, and patronising she must have sounded, but oh well what else could she do?
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Klyff Tylssen
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« Reply #18 on: February 12, 2011, 05:24:13 PM »

Klyff laughed to himself at the answer to his question. It was probably obvious that the only other man in the tavern would be the owner, but he thought it a good question anyways. In truth he had no idea what propitiate meant, but the explanation afterwards made it simple to gather. He still was not quite as good as he would like in Tharian.

Well then, a pleasure to meet you, sir DePriest. And how do you like owning this tavern? I should think it would be tiresome work eventually, would it not? I suppose you probably meet the most interesting people though.

He looked around the tavern once more. Overall it seemed like a drab place, not a very exciting property to work at day after day after day. Klyff thought once more of the reason he was in the tavern.

And, while your at it, Sir, do you think you could get one of your barmaids to get me a drink of ale?
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The world is a book, and those who do not travel read only a page. - Saint Augustine
Alexandre Scriabin
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« Reply #19 on: February 13, 2011, 06:52:17 AM »

Pulling himself up out of his chair on the elf's request for a drink, Russel made his way to the other side of the bar and poured him and Klyff two Tuborger Brown ales right off the tap.

It's great to drink fresh ale for free, and I get to see my daughter and granddaughter just about every day now.

Now, you're about to drink with one of the best, Klyff. And that means that I'm confident enough with myself to give you all of your drinks for free if you beat me. So, why don't let me teach you a drinking game and give it a try?
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Klyff Tylssen
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« Reply #20 on: February 13, 2011, 02:12:44 PM »

Klyff accepted the drink with a thanks and listened to DePriest's challenge. He was intrigued, he quite liked to play games with his cards, but this was probably a different kind of game. He took a sip of the rich ale, and found the taste quite to his liking.

One of the best, you say? Then I'm sure I won't beat you. But now im curious as to what this drinking game is, so teach me. I might as well have som fun while im here.

He set the mug down on the table and proped his spear up against the counter, freeing up both hands, ready to try any game Russel was going to throw at him. He knew he hadn't much of a chance in any sort of drinking game. Drinking was a leisure he did not afford often, and he was still much a lightweight.

I must say, your the owner of this bar, aren't you? You probably drink every day! I doubt I'll be able to beat someone in any game they practice every day.
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The world is a book, and those who do not travel read only a page. - Saint Augustine
Alexandre Scriabin
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« Reply #21 on: February 19, 2011, 09:00:48 PM »

Russel took around eight seconds to think, and then poured a few more brews off the tap. After that, he ran with quick little steps up to the second floor, and came back momentarily with several small throwing knives.

Well, I want to be fair so I decided that the difficulty of the game should be up to you. Whether or not you have to take a drink will depend on whether or not I can throw and hit the mark that you tell me to hit. Once you can't stand it anymore, whoever has taken the most drinks has to pay up. That, and if you fancy yourself a good knife thrower as well, I'll wager on your throws too.

So tell me Klyff, can you guess how good I am?
« Last Edit: February 19, 2011, 09:02:20 PM by Alexandre Scriabin » Logged

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Klyff Tylssen
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« Reply #22 on: February 20, 2011, 09:46:53 AM »

Klyff listened to the interesting game presented before him and thought well of the man for introducing a common stranger to have such a fine time. Of course, the man was probably going to make some money out of the process as well, but it still intrigued him. He thought, if not for the sake of boredom, that he would like to see this man playing at his own game.

So, if I am correct, I am to point something in this tavern for you to hit with one of those knives, and if you do, I have to drink. If you don't, however, I am to gather that you are the one who has to drink. Am I right?

Now, I have never thrown a dagger at anything in my life, but this would be a grand opportunity to try, would it not? But how many times must I throw?
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Alexandre Scriabin
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« Reply #23 on: February 20, 2011, 04:44:07 PM »

Hrmmm... Right, if I miss then I have to drink up. And if this is your first time then you're in luck, because it should be easy for a deft elf like yourself to pick up and I'm not so bad of a teacher.

Russel then found a comfortable standing posture, held a knife between his thumb, index, and middle finger, made light arm motions (with a rigid shoulder and fluid extension of the rest of the arm), and gently flicked his wrist at the end of each extension. Having demonstrated it for the third time, he threw the knife across the room and watched it arc through the air and rest right above the hearth.
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Klyff Tylssen
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« Reply #24 on: February 20, 2011, 07:32:54 PM »

Klyff watched the knife sail through the air as Russel demonstrated his prowess. He looked at the hearth where the knife had landed with a slight grin on his face, and turned back towards Russel. The act of throwing the knief had appeared simple, easy in fact. If it was done with such ease that he saw, Klyff should be able to imitate it and win a simple game, especially if he could chose any mark.

Absent mindedly he took his small knife out of its sheath and started twirling it around his finger, an act he did commonly. He peered around the room for different items to hit with the throwing daggers and thought to himself for a few moment. Finally he looked back at Russel.

Alright, you have completely piqued my interest in this game, and I would like to give it a try. I do hope you are a good teacher, and go easy on me, I've never done this before. Of course, I'm not about to throw yet until I see a few more of yours. Are you ready to see what I have for you to hit yet?

Klyff liked the game and liked his reply, especially since he had used he word 'piqued', a word he learned just a few nights earlier. He realized the knife still spinning around his fingers and placed it back in his sheath. He got up from his seat, walked over to the hearth, picked up the knife and came back. Tossing it in his hand, he returned the dagger to Russel with the grin still on his face.

I do hope I have a stomach for ale tonight!
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Alexandre Scriabin
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« Reply #25 on: February 21, 2011, 08:30:23 AM »

Hahahallllrighty then! I'll demonstrate once more and then you can call out a target. After you've given me a target, I'll tell you a little about the mental preparation for a throw and hit the mark.

Now exuberant from meeting this new friend, Russel darted his eyes around the room and found his next mark: the thin wood panel in the middle of a window pane, looking nice and inconspicuous on the other side of the tavern.

Realizing that this throw would be a little over half of a rotation longer than the last, he held the knife at the handle with a light four finger grip, and demonstrated the same arm motion, but flicked his wrist further in to the extension in order for Klyff to note the adjustment. This was an odd distance, just into the in between area, so he would have to arc the throw forwards a bit in order for the wood to give way for the knife's entry angle.

Ready for the toss, Russel set tankard to lips and executed the toss in the middle of his drink.

You see, Klyff? It's all about judging distances. The knife has to arc down into the wood right at the last moment, because the wood won't give if the knife tip hits it head on, or if the blade is angled too far either up or down. I had to make a handle toss, release it a little later to get the right arc, and use a bit of a more aggressive, four point grip in order for the harder panel wood to give way.

But rest assured, I wouldn't ask you to make a shot like that. Too many adjustments involved... Do you get the idea of it now?


Russel then took another of his knives from on top of the table, clasped it into Klyff's hands and tried showing him some of the different finger grips, how to grab the blade side, and how to grab the handle side.
« Last Edit: February 21, 2011, 08:38:05 AM by Alexandre Scriabin » Logged

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Klyff Tylssen
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« Reply #26 on: February 21, 2011, 11:21:54 AM »

Klyff watched in awe once more as another knife sailed through the air and stuck into a board laid across a window pane. He listened to Russel's demonstration and explanations intently, and watched closely as Russel showed him the different ways to hold the knife. He examined the knife in his hand, looking at the way it was balanced and the curved, somewhat odd shape of it.

Finally he stood up, knife in hand. Picking another panel of wood a little closer on a seperate wall, he 'judged' that the knife would only spin once between the throw and the hit. He held the knife in between his thumb and forefinger on the handle and, looking at Russel to make sure he was doing it right, went through the motions of throwing the knife. Finally, on the third movement, he threw the knife with a firm amount of force.

The knife sailed through the air just as Russel's had, but the flat of the entire dagger hit the wood, falling with a loud and ringing clang to the ground.

Ah haha. Russel, this is definately much harder then you make it sound. But I do like the idea of it. I'm sure I might be able to get the hang of it eventually, and again, this must a be a fine chance to try it, would it not?

With this Klyff walked over to the knife he had thrown and picked it up, and did the same with the other, still protruding from the wall. Coming back to the table he set them both down and sat down himself. The grin came back to his face.

Now, I've found the mark I want you to hit. And I do hope you miss, I don't want to be the one paying for all this ale!

Klyff's hand shot to his pocket, and withdrew from it a single san. He tossed it up into the air and caught it in between his fingers. Flashing it to Russel, he flicked it across the room, where it landed on a table a few feet from the wall on the opposite side.

And there you have it, Mr. Russel, that is your first mark. Hit the san and I shall take my first drink. And, as a bonus, if you hit it, I'll even give you the san as well, just as a token of my awe in whatever extraordinary skill you have.
« Last Edit: February 22, 2011, 03:58:43 PM by Klyff Tylssen » Logged

The world is a book, and those who do not travel read only a page. - Saint Augustine
Rocelin Ellis
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« Reply #27 on: February 22, 2011, 08:43:04 AM »

The day was getting warmer and with it the some of the desert inhabitants were coming to life. Al'Syrr sandbirds churped their unhappiness at the soldier as they took flight letting the stranger know his presence was not at all required, their yellowish brown feathers contrasting against the rich sou’cald sky.  A gentle breeze blew the human’s nor’sidian hair as it caressed his face.  Sweat had already begun rolling down his forehead onto his cheeks.  It wasn’t s exertion that caused him perspire as he rode his Centoraurian horse.  It was instead the heat that he couldn’t quite get used to that radiated from the hot sands of the Ráhaz-Dáth dessert.  His choice of attire didn’t help much either.  Adorned in dark leather armor covered by an equally dark tunic was not helping much.  The blowing sands were finding their way into every crevasse and the grinding sound was beginning to irritate the man. 

Not far ahead he could see an outcropping of weathered buildings.  His yderza said far more than his mouth ever did and they danced seeing the structures that must certainly belonged to the place he was looking for, The Thirsty Harold.   “There Abat,” the young man said patting his snowy white steed gently, “only a few more peds.” He spoke as if speaking to a fellow human and more often to her than to most of them.  Sir Rocelin Ellis had a relationship with his horse that was close.  She was his one constant companion, the only one that accompanied him through his journey.  She accepted him unconditionally, whether he won or lost, passed or failed, she was there for him.  It was the only relationship he had that seemed to work.  Even as his family rejected him She had remained faithful and unwavering.  Together they had made the trek downward stopping here and there to take on occupations as a mercenary or guard.  Than move on as the memories drove him deeper into depression and his destructive behavior.

With a sigh he nudged the horse onward making a clicking sound to get her moving.  He squinted against the bright rays of sun that seemed hotter than usual, as if Foiros himself had a personal vendetta against him.  It seemed to shine brighter and warmer here so close to Strata.  Working as a part of the forces assigned to protect the city of the Shendar.  It paid well enough but he was finding himself wanting to leave.

When he had first decided to undertake the long journey south, down into the land of the Shendar, he had hoped things would change for him.  Though it was an effort to escape the wrath of his family as his brothers and father threatened to take his life, it was also an attempt to escape the memories.  He had thought if he changed his surrounding, placed himself in a world so different than the one he had grown up in he could forget.  Yet forgetting was not coming. The architecture was different, the people were different and no one seemed to know or even care about his past perceived failings or his troubled passed.  It was the sand, the carpet of the Ráhaz-Dáth dessert that made him remember.  This ever changing, wind blown landscape that brought back the painful memories of Abigail Braggsby.  She had been his love, the woman he so wished to merry and yet lost.  Even though there scenery was so contrasting from the plains and forests of his homeland the colour of this shifting surface nudged thoughts of her to the surface.

Rocelin pulled his mount to a stop just outside the stables.  Abatos whinnied slightly and stomped her nor’sidian booted hoof as if anxious to get inside the enclosure and away from suns burning heat.  The man dismounted with the grace of someone well skilled in the arts of horseman ship and silently led the creature into the shaded confines where the animals were kept.  He took his time removing the heavy saddlebags and other belongings than patted the animal again.  In spite of his cultural norms that stated that women took care of horses he had learned how to groom and maintain his mount.  Today would be no different as he gently but silently brushed the main and coat of the beloved animal.  Than he reached inside and removed the last of the withered fruit he to offer the horse.  With a gentle touch he petted Abatos’ muzzle giving her a faint smile before finally bending down to gather his things.  Taking a moment he straightened his hair hoping to get much of the sand out of his locks than brushed down his tunic and the white sleeves of the tunic he wore under his armor.  He than picked up the saddlebags, flung them over his left shoulder and began moving to where he had entered.

As he exited the building he squinted his eyes and waited only a moment before beginning the short jaunt towards the taverns door.  Over near a window he could see a young girl peering through into the interior of the establishment.  Judging by her appearance he would have to say the girl was alone in the world without an adult to care for her.  If he had been more a conversationalist he might have said something.  Instead, Rocelin continued his stride to the wooden portal that would take him within.  He glanced over towards the girl again than back towards the door before turning the knob and letting the door swing inward.  Stepping in he paused for a moment trying to let his eyes adjust to the lower level of light.  He heard the sound of his boots against the wooden floor and took in a breath before approach the bar hoping to speak to whomever might be working there.
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Alexandre Scriabin
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« Reply #28 on: February 23, 2011, 09:13:22 AM »

The elf drew a san from his pocket and flicked it onto a table a few feet from the wall opposite them. Something reminiscent of a smirk appeared from the elf, but it was unambiguous enough to imply several different emotions.

Egads! I'll probably have to drink this time, so I think I'll just get it out of the way.

Tankard met lips again, and he tried to make the shot. It had to have an extreme arc to it, and he ended up with just about the right entry trajectory to scrape the coin with the blade, but it fell a little short and stuck soundly into the table.

Now another drink for good measure!

There was about a half of a tankard left, and Russel downed it gratuitously quick. His stomach then rumbled and he shook his head twice. The dwarves made some stout brews.

A few seconds to clear his head, and he heard a horse whinny. With a passive if you'll excuse me he went and grabbed his knife and Klyff's san from the table, then returned the san to Klyff and gazed out the window, from atop a stool, at a Centoraurian man. He was a young knight, encased in leather armor and engrossed in sand.

The man entered the inn and stood still for a bit before venturing further in and approaching the bar.

If you will, I'll have someone take that armor and clean it for you. Then you can stay here and have a brewskie with us.

Now, in the meantime, you know how to throw knives? We're wagering drinks on it, Klyff (being gestured towards) and I.

By the way, I'm Russel DePriest, and I keep the deed to this tavern.
« Last Edit: February 23, 2011, 03:56:58 PM by Alexandre Scriabin » Logged

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Rocelin Ellis
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« Reply #29 on: February 23, 2011, 01:42:06 PM »

Rocelin tourned towards a voice and offered a nod.  It was from a man that much was sure and when his eyes met him he nodded,  “pleasure to meet you Mr. DePriest and you Klyff.”

A faint smile crossed his face, “I do know how to throw a knife,” he offered letting the smile widen as he spoke, “but I try not to mix my brew with blades.”

With booted feet the warrior walked the short distance towards the man who had spoken.  Again the sound of hardened leather against wooden planks echoed in the nearly empty room.  He let the saddlebags sluff off his shoulder and into his left hand before placing them near the table where the two men sat.  

“I will however join you for a drink,” he said as the aroma of liquid spirits crossed under his nose.

The two had been drinking that much he knew.  How much had passed between their lips he was not sure.  The sun had not yet reached its zenith and by his reckoning Sunblaze was a good two hours away.  If he started drinking now he would have a hearty buzz feeling by then and if he was not careful by Daywane he would be flirting with the help.  By Grayshade he knew things would be getting out of control as his inhibitions gave way to the intoxication.    

“The armor does need cleaning,” he said releasing the buckle on his sword belt and carefully placing the pummels of his blades to rest against the tavern wall.  He began to pull his nor’sidian tunic that covered his armor up as if in the common hall of a barracks than blushed as he let go of the hem.  He looked about to see who was watching, “I would seem better for me to purchase room first would it not?”

For a brief moment his thoughts turned to the girl outside peering through the window.   The idea of suggesting he would pay for a meal for her leaped to the forefront yet he said nothing thinking it best to wait for a slightly more appropriate time.
« Last Edit: February 23, 2011, 01:43:41 PM by Rocelin Ellis » Logged

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