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Author Topic: Wison's Breath Inn  (Read 94943 times)
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Khel
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« Reply #15 on: October 11, 2007, 10:08:14 AM »

Timeras

Deeply disappointed at his friends’ reply, Timeras listened solemnly nonetheless. "A horde approaches your city sir, I'd bet all the wine in Remusiat on it." An Orc Horde? Timeras glanced at Gundioc quickly, as if uncertain that this was a joke. Of course, he knew it was not. Smiling slightly, he murmured, ”Well, we don’t have too much wine to bet…” but inside his mind reeled. Sure, Timeras wanted to prove his worth as the Crown Prince of Remusiat, he wanted to, and would gladly fight for his people, but… so soon? And would there certainly be a horde or could it be a renegade bunch? Perhaps this scout had made a mistake in the past…

Ah, his people did not need this with so much change about them already, pressing in; causing stress and turmoil. Already two influential men were no doubt planning something foolish above his very head. Finishing his ale in a few loud gulps, the Prince set the empty mug gently on the table and pushed it hard, watching it slide and grate along the stone surface. Finally, the friction caused it to stop and Timeras looked up again.

”You’re sure? Bah, of course you’re sure. Thank you for this news, friend. My father, of course, will most likely already be informed… or close to it.” Looking around the Inn, a couple more patrons had entered. Ulther was busy at the bar and the fire lit the high ceilinged room with a warm glow Timeras thought the city would be hard pressed to find for some time if the horde reached the city. Yes, this would be the beginning of a glum season in Remusiat.

As he thought, Trina returned again, but Timeras did not ease her edginess with a friendly gaze this time. She set two additional mugs of ale before Gundioc. Instead of nearly jogging away as she had before, the young woman leaned in between the greasy man and himself. ”Did I hear ye righ’ sirs? A skirmish at the gates? Oh, dreary news indeed..” Her voice quavered as she spoke, lines of worry appearing around her usually bright, dreamy eyes. Pausing a moment, she looked to be in great conflict, and finally shot out, ”Did ye hear who the scout be, m’Lord?” Her eyes looked pleadingly from Mathias to Timeras. Obviously her first question was irrelevant, as she was listening very carefully to their conversation.

Timeras looked at the barmaid with concern in his face. For him, she encompassed the very essence of the city’s reaction when the news was heard. If there was indeed a horde approaching, the declaration of war would tear families apart. The pleading in the young woman’s voice was not only hers, but the pleading of a thousand wives and children. The conflict at the gate signified a thousand of the small skirmishes that made up a true battle. The life of the scout symbolized the life of many men who would gladly die for their country.
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..tell me your heart doesn't race for a hurricane or a burning building. -asw
Your pal, Khel
Altario Shialt-eck-Gorrin
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« Reply #16 on: October 11, 2007, 12:42:31 PM »

Brem Surrinaam

Brem sighed.  "Of course it is, Dahlen.  Sometimes I think you worry too much of this life and not nearly enough of the next."  He would not be so foolish.  What was a mere fifty or sixty years here when compared to eternity in the next?  No, Dahlen just did not grasp what was really at stake.

"You always speak to me, Dahlen, as though the petty concerns of money and power intrigue me.  They do not.  What concerns me is how Phoblit will hold back the day, if he deems us unworthy.  My concern is Zundefor taking back the wison he gave Uraghadze for our sustenance, if we fail to hold true to our traditions.  My concern, therefore, is about every living Remmusian, and those that are to follow in our stead.  

They will not take kindly to this false god, who we have humoured long enough.  If we turn our backs on them for this Kor'och, then they will turn their backs on us."  His eyes narrowed.  "Now what say you?  Does trade with the south compare to that?"  Brem leaned back in his chair, his ample girth straining the furniture. "I thought not."

"No, the most dangerous figure in our midst is not Xandreth, for he is just a pathetic fool who has fallen to the temptations of power gained through misguided belief.  No, the real enemy here is Araman himself.  His making of that cult into a state religion has doomed Remusiat and perhaps all of Remusia.  This city will pay for the deeds perpatrated on it by its king.  You mark my words, Dahlen.  The gods will not be patient much longer.  They will open the eyes of those who no longer believe.  Pray it is not too late."
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Mathis Mallister
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« Reply #17 on: October 12, 2007, 12:10:13 AM »

Without bothering to direct his eyes anywhere other than the prince himself, Mathis answered the girl's question. "Didn't ask. And I'm no sir, nor anyone's lord." Normally referring to Mathis Mallister as either or would be one of the few infractions worthy of violent reaction, but she was just a stupid girl, worried for one horseman out of the thousands that would die before winter again touched Remusiat.

If the lad was dead, Mathis could only hope for her sake she didn't fall prey to Gundioc's legendary if unique charms. Maybe he would take her himself, it had seemed forever since he last had a woman - since Beornoth at least - and unlike those who entertained Gundioc, Mathis' leftovers usually left with the same number of teeth they started out with. He had to grin at that, even if most of the women could not.

Timeras took the news of the alleged horde as well as he possibly could have - frustrated but with no clear signs of fear. Even so, Mathis found himself wondering how they had fallen in with such a man. He was regal in every aspect, not merely countenance, and courteous as well - simply not the sort of company the brothers usually kept, though admittedly, with the exception of horses and whores, they kept little company at all. He was a year older than Mathis, but without the confidence a man can only gain with steel in hand, and with a mind for governing rather than war. Timeras had potential, yes, but he was in need of some earthshattering event to break him down and remake him as a worthy King in the north.

Remusiat's wine supply lessened by the moment. Maybe there would be no need for a ship afterall. "Orc hordes aren't as distressing as they sound, girl. Why, this is our second in six months." With that, the younger Mallister's unwelcome eyes finally regarded the barmaid properly, giving an unwitting irony to the words intended as imperious inspiration.
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take an eye for an eye, turn your heart into stone
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Gundioc Mallister
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« Reply #18 on: October 12, 2007, 04:53:30 AM »

Gundioc sat, bemused annoyance upon his face at the Prince’s jest. He looked down at his bear cloak, that was more a blanket or rug than anything else, and breathed a few forced laughs. Perhaps I’m not drunk enough to understand Remusian humor, he thought. And as if reading his thoughts, the comely barmaid appeared with wine. Obviously for Mathis, but Gundioc could not spare to have his lips devoid of drink for any longer than a few minutes and so waited impatiently for his brother to be about his supercilious ritual of tasting wine, before snatching the aged bottle and pouring himself a glass, which was received with a hearty grin as the red liquid dribbled down his chin and made its home among his whiskers, as so many drinks were wont to do.

Smacking his lips in pleasure after his glass had been emptied he turned his attention away from his brother and the Prince. If there was killing to be had, Mathis would ensure Gundioc a place on the field, if not, then Gundioc didn’t care what exchange the two made. Shifting his largeness about, he looked upon the barmaid, who had retreated behind the counter once more. His eyes devoured her form ravenously, scenarios and situations playing themselves out in his mind. It was not long before that trait inherent in most beings settled in and the sudden awareness that she was being watched gripped her and she turned to meet Gundioc’s predatory gaze. The smirk on Gundioc’s face subtly eluded to something far more malevolent than just wanting to charm the girl and he winked at her, his mouth exploding into a wide-toothed grin. She could only blush, the look of fear in her eyes replaced with alarm, and proceeded to bring Gundioc more ale, hoping to relieve herself of his attentions by giving him something else to satisfy his thoughts other than her.

Gundioc watched her intently from the brim of his ale, his eyes peering down the earthen container, as she sidled in between him and the Prince. Gundioc gurgled a slight giggle and set his mug down hastily. Whilst her body blocked the Prince’s vision, it did not block Mathis’ and Gundioc fashioned his hands and made facial expressions indicative of what his wishes were with the barmaid. Mathis managed a slight grin, which was more than Gundioc could have hoped for from his brother. Satisfied with his attempts, he grabbed his ale once more and began nursing its remnants noisily as the girl asked of some soldier or another. Gundioc could only grin into his spirits more. Competition!
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Khel
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« Reply #19 on: October 12, 2007, 12:03:29 PM »

Timeras

Timeras shook his head at Mathis’ reaction to Trina. The woman was obviously worried about some scout, but none of them had the answer she sought. When he finished speaking to her Timeras laid a hand on her arm, glimpsing Gundioc’s foul movements behind her back, and pushed her gently away from the table, giving her a meaningful look. Trina seemed to get the message, bustling quickly away and Timeras watched her go, knowing she’d said too much. Oh, how was she supposed to know about his unusual friends? There was no way she would, and he had a feeling she’d be sending Ulther to their table from now on.

Mathis’ lack of concern for the Orc horde, if there even was one, was expected but still disconcerting. Of course nothing could ever take either of these men by surprise, but what of the city when it found out? Timeras thought it best to keep the idea hushed. Always ready for war, mobilizing wouldn’t be a problem. Anyone looking at their outer fortifications would know that inside its walls the people of Remusia would have plenty of time to prepare for any battles. Silently, Timeras glanced at the fire again. Yes, to keep the Orcs a secret would be preferable. The skirmish obviously was not able to be concealed, seeing as the West Gate opened into the main plaza where the majority of citizens spent their free time. But, an idea of anything more should not be publicized.

Oh, the woes of a Crown Prince. Timeras let out a hearty laugh at the pettiness of it all. He knew he was no warrior, that was certain. Yet his mind reeled and he was almost excited at the thought of war. I must be near insanity… the Prince thought. Regardless, the Prince did not want to dampen the company of friends with talk of war and booze. He wanted the excitement these two men could readily give him, at least with a few tales of their journey here. Granted, Timeras knew they could portray a well-lit fireplace in the crudest of mannerisms, but these were the antics he desired. The life outside the Tower, outside Remusiat and the whole of Remusia was the life Timeras wanted to hear of.

Thought of the Tower sent a fleeting thought out towards Brogan. Looking about, there was no doubt the lad was here in the Inn. Or he had been since Timeras arrived. There wasn’t a move gone unwatched, but at the very least Brogan usually kept to himself the company Timeras entertained, and the purpose he entertained it. Aside from drinking themselves into puddles on the floor, only to be mopped up by the next desperate ladies to enter the Inn, Timeras had a different plan in mind. A horrible plan, but a plan nonetheless. Wiping the thought from his mind momentarily, Timeras asked,

”You’ll surely be staying to fight, then? If indeed there is a horde upon us, as you seem to think. Gundioc, this city holds more than enough liquor for you, and even a few women.” Giving the greasy man a wink, Timeras felt so naïve. He couldn’t even hide the slight edge of pleading in his deep voice. So desperate to hear a tale; to converse with someone who was not an official or had a hidden and devious agenda. Petty words between crude, inappropriate tales and hearty mugs of ale were all he cared for. More than his duties as a Prince or the heir to the crown at the moment, Timeras wanted to be a young, foolhardy man. The Crown Prince wasn’t allowed recklessness… it was so dreary sometimes.

But, simultaneously Timeras knew his duty was for the betterment of the people he loved. His father would see this city to ruin, but Timeras had a different idea. With a forlorn sigh, Timeras wished to be the reckless man he saw in the Mallister brothers, but knew he never would be. Regardless, he was happy they provided him with their company, if only briefly.  He knew shortly his city would bore them, as would any idle conversation he forced them to participate in. Sure, he could keep up with and possibly echo their antics, but did he truly want to? Deep in his heart, Timeras loved the land of Remusia, it was his only concern, and to be a great King he would have to look past his own needs in this regard, however dull it seemed to be at times.
« Last Edit: October 12, 2007, 12:25:12 PM by Khel » Logged

..tell me your heart doesn't race for a hurricane or a burning building. -asw
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Mathis Mallister
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« Reply #20 on: October 12, 2007, 10:29:41 PM »

The Prince of Remusiat was now barely able to conceal the worry in his voice, practically pleading for whatever aid he could gather for support amidst the evils of the coming storm. Mathis' understanding of the man was growing clearer with every single insignificant crack in his powerful facade. The wheels were turning, there was opportunity here, daring to be seized and exploited. Mathis let a hand drift to the heavy pocket on the interior of his robes, and felt the sweet lump of soft gold. It was only a small portion of the Mallister's current wealth, and with most of it hidden away, Mathis could not help the lust for more.

"You will be fighting yourself, certainly?" Mathis asked the warm air more so than the prince, realizing just how how weary the boy already was of the subject. "Well m'lord, we're no grunts. We know more of the clash of steel than half your officers and likely a general or two - and I know I've never been much of one to suffer the chain of command. But you answer only to your father, do you not?" The look on Mathis' face betrayed nothing of his thoughts, stone as it ever was, his lips as hard a line as Remusiat's double walls.

"Perhaps we could stay on as your own sworn swords. No man below us, but only yourself and your Lord-father above." Mathis made the proposition in such a way that it sounded more a musing, pondering out loud, and once spoken, put up his hands in a gesture of dismissal as if shooing the business of reality away. "But we can always decide on such matters when the assault comes, my friend. Did I ever tell you how I came by my sword?" The lordling wanted excitement, and such could be provided. "Well, Gundioc had of course been drinking all morning ..."

Prince Timeras of Remusiat thought of the Mallisters as entertainment, a distraction from his duties, a duo who's old wounds could be chuckled at in the dark of the tavern. If years of whoring had taught Mathis one thing worth passing to the prince, it was that entertainment could often command a high price.
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take an eye for an eye, turn your heart into stone
this is all I have lived for, this is all I have known
Gundioc Mallister
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« Reply #21 on: October 12, 2007, 11:38:56 PM »

Gundioc’s brow furrowed in consternation at the sudden movement of the barmaid from their table. His eyes followed her contemptuously, willing her to return, until talk of fighting reached his ears. He turned about to face the Prince, grimacing as a flare of pain shot through his back from his wounds sustained in the Imliths. Damnable bear. The grimace however, was replaced with a sure smile as he noticed the ale awaiting him. He pushed his third cup to the side, knowing it would be better company with the other empty containers there, and lifted his fourth, the foam tickling his nose as the Prince delivered a subtle plea for them to stay and fight. Gundioc smiled despite himself or the alcohol.

It wouldn’t matter if the Prince had provided them with all the women in Remusiat, nor all the drink. Of course they would stay. If there was anything the  Mallisters loved more than women and drink, it was fighting. Gundioc wished there were some way to combine the three, and thoughts of his first wife were quickly conjured up. He chortled loudly into his spirits, flecks of foam finding themselves scattered about his grinning face.

He set down the now empty cup, taking his finger and wiping its innards clean, inserting the finger into his mouth to suckle upon the last drops of the cup, and listened to Mathis’ proposition. His eyes lit up with excitement and a slow grin spread across his wide face, while his finger fell from his mouth and quickly shot up again into the air, accompanying three other fingers as he bellowed loudly, “Three more over here!” A decidedly subtle sign of approval for his brothers ideas.
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Khel
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« Reply #22 on: October 13, 2007, 10:50:46 PM »

Timeras

As he listened to the careful reply, Timeras had forgotten just how sly the Mallisters could be. Friendship was not high on their list, and Timeras could only expect as much of them as he would of friends much less noble. Truth be told, yes, he answered only to his father. Even then, he sometimes doubted his father’s actions and took his own. Timeras studied Mathis’ straight face coolly. He was naïve, but did Mathis really think he was a fool? Perhaps he did. Perhaps he had grown out of his friends in their absence, or they had grown increasingly underhanded. Of course, the crown had a surplus of gold, and the brothers wanted it. This didn’t bother Timeras any.

Timeras wanted a story, yes, but he could see the Mallisters would tire of his tediousness in due time. As Mathis began his account, Gundioc ordered additional ales, and Timeras sank further into his own thoughts. Could he be clever enough to undermine the underhanded? Timeras thought not. However, he had an idea. As Trina brought over more ales for the men, Timeras held up a hand to halt Mathis’ tale.

”My sworn swords you may be if you wish, but I am more concerned about my own abilities.” Timeras glanced between the brothers thoughtfully, considering. ”If I am to be King, my current state as a governor will serve Remusiat well, but my skill as a warrior will dampen its spirits. If you are to stay, teach me what you know.” Timeras did not mean it to sound as if it were an ultimatum, but ultimately… it was. If he was to pay the brothers the copious amounts of coin they wanted, he would benefit from the exchange as well. Timeras knew he was no warrior, but these two… they could teach him much. 
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..tell me your heart doesn't race for a hurricane or a burning building. -asw
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Khel
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« Reply #23 on: October 14, 2007, 01:52:47 AM »

Dahlen Kunvayle

Dahlen listened, idly chewing his meal, as Brem recounted his usual tirade concerning the gods’ disapproval and dire warnings against them. Regardless, Dahlen understood Brem about as much as Brem understood him. How could he disregard concerns of money or power when they were the main focus of so many others? Brem could focus nobly on the old gods for as long as he wanted, but he would not get very far without these worldly possessions as well. Soon, more would flock towards Kor’och and Brem’s bearings would slip considerably, he would find money and power were all he had to back him.

However Brem’s ideas differed from his, Dahlen thought he may be right when he said, ”The real enemy here is Araman.” Instinctively when he said it, Dahlen’s head shifted this way and that, as if someone may have heard, and in his preoccupation missed most of the rest of Brem’s little speech. Yes, Araman and his traditional ways would be the end of their fair city. If he didn’t keep up, they would go no where.

Lightly stepping around the ideas of the gods, Dahlen thought it wise to avoid any talk of Xandreth for the time being, at least until Brem could be beneficial to him. Laying down his utensil and pushing his plate away, Dahlen let out an obnoxious burp, followed by a large gulp of ale. Araman at least was a common enough enemy to rally together the common people. His lack of governing in Remusiat would have cost them all dearly on many occasions had it not been for that advisor of his, or Prince Timeras.

”Friend, if the gods are getting impatient I suggest we give them something to ease their anxiety.” Dahlen thought for a moment on the day Rellech would be out of power, riches and luxury stripped from him. And Xandreth… oh, Xandreth’s loss of power would bring him great joy indeed. If the gods would look down in kindness on those doing their bidding, surely Brem and himself would gain great favor in their eyes.

At least, if anything, they would need more ale. Whether it was to celebrate or drink his sorrows away, Dahlen would need more ale. ”Oi! Trina!” the man bellowed, his broad chest puffed up and his chair leaned back towards the door. Seeing the look on Brem’s face, however, Dahlen scowled and stood, ”All righ’, all righ’, I’ll go get he—Oof!” Dahlen’s large foot hit a hard object and he just about tumbled into the hall before looking down to see a snowy-haired man crouched there.

Narrowing his eyes, Dahlen surveyed the scene only a moment before his temper flared, ”Now just what do you think you’re doing, boy? Listening out side our door, why, I oughta… oh, you’re just gonna git what’s comin’ to ya!” Reaching down and pulling the man inside, Dahlen slammed the door and looked meaningfully at Brem. What in all the wastes were they to do with him?
« Last Edit: October 14, 2007, 04:25:36 AM by Altario Shialt-eck-Gorrin » Logged

..tell me your heart doesn't race for a hurricane or a burning building. -asw
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Kaldez’Yadra
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« Reply #24 on: October 14, 2007, 04:23:30 AM »

Kaldez grunted as he got hit by a large foot, he had gotten to distracted with the conversation and hadn't realized the man was opening the door Fool this could ruin any chance you had in this city!, as he got hauled into the room he was off balance, when he was finaly steady he quickly chopped at the large man's wrist to release the grip and quickly rolled away form him rdy too throw his seastars confined beneath his shirt. "Do not mkae a move towards me or you will quickly regrett it!" Kaldez said in a threateningly quiet voice that wouldn't be heard outside the room, his eyes were burning ice as he looked at both of the men in the room The large one must be Dahlen by th descriptions i have recieved
« Last Edit: October 16, 2007, 04:52:02 AM by Kaldez’Yadra » Logged

Nothing is impossible for impossibility is impossible- Kaldez'Yadra
Altario Shialt-eck-Gorrin
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« Reply #25 on: October 14, 2007, 07:59:08 AM »

Ulther, the Bartender

Ulther was kept busy with pouring drinks and tring to keep up cleaning mugs.  Luckily, his technique for cleaning mugs was fairly quick, just a swift wipe with rag.  He was listening to the conversations and to Trina as she requested drinks from him to serve.  It was then that he noticed what it was he was not listening too.  He glanced over to where the man with the lute was standing.  "Hey, you!  Music man!  I ain't payin you to be standing about, gawking at people.  Get ye to playin', or get out into the cold.  Makes no nevermind to me."

Damn musicians.

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Gundioc Mallister
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« Reply #26 on: October 14, 2007, 09:53:13 AM »

The sound of a lute accompanied the barmaid’s own steps as she timidly made her way back to their table with ale. She began placing them, one in front of each man, but Gundioc caught her hand when she came to Mathis. Startled, she let out a gasp and Gundioc bared his teeth in a slovenly manner, guiding her hand with his own, back towards him. “He doesn’t drink this rotgut, m'dear, you just leave that with ol’ Gundioc.” He brought her hand up to his lips and placed a moist kiss upon it. The scene may have been charming if Gundioc was not so unkempt and didn’t have the notoriety of being a lecher. The girl winced, biting her lip to keep from saying anything and Timeras gave Gundioc a disapproving look. Gundioc flashed his most famous of smiles and released the girl’s hand, which quickly sought respite in the folds of her garb.

“Such a pretty thing...and so young too.” Gundioc’s eyes followed her a short distance while she fled before regaining their attention upon his brother and the Prince. His thick fingers quickly found themselves wrapped about one of the two tankards before him and his gulps eerily complemented Mathis’ quiet voice as he told his story. Mathis had not yet come to the part where they had nearly killed each other in his story and Gundioc, intent, as this was his favorite part, leaned in close, his lips and tongue still lapping at rapidly dwindling ale in his cup. This would be his fifth and he still seemed as determined as he had upon entering this establishment. Lick the foam from the corners of his mouth, his hand sought the second tankard, but he stopped himself as the Prince held up a hand to silence Mathis.

Gundioc’s laughter erupted and echoed from the walls of the Wison’s Breath. The Wison pelts silently shuddered and the fire flickered briefly. Patrons were jarred from the half-sleep that a drunken afternoon offers and their eyes widened, while their fingers wandered fitfully over their bodies to assure they had not been robbed or pissed themselves. The lute-player lost his melody, so startling was the sound, before being able to continue; the song poor opposition to the giant’s roar. Finally, calmed to a slow bubbling of mirth, allowing the regulars to continue what they thought as a relaxing eve, Gundioc exclaimed, “Teach you!?”

He gave another small bout of laughter and continued, “Buggerin’ drelldung! What do you think, Matty?” He gave a great slap onto Timeras’ shoulder, “Ignobles working for the nobles? Ha!” Gundioc’s meaty face was alight with blood and his eyes twinkled with excitement and five ales.
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gets rid of the pain of being a man.
Tobac
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« Reply #27 on: October 14, 2007, 10:02:57 AM »

 Tobac grinned in an attempt to seem friendly after the bartender's angry ramblings, but he had been feeling like using his weapons for quite a while. It seemed like it had been ages since he felt the glory of a battle, be it a bar fight, or a quick arrow through an attacker. Tobac suppressed these thoughts and took a seat, holding his lute.
 He played a calm tune, and gradually quickened it, playing it louder until it was just barely in the background, and not a full performance. Tobac had already forgotten why he had come to this cold, slightly unfriendly place.
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Khel
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« Reply #28 on: October 15, 2007, 06:16:13 PM »

Timeras

Timeras cringed, but kept his mouth shut as Gundioc flirted with Trina. The barmaid seemed to handle it well, however, and she made her way safely back behind the bar once more. That poor girl.. Timeras shook his head.. but he definitely warned her. As the story progressed Timeras got almost as much joy out of the greasy man’s interest in his own story than anything. However, his bellow after Timeras’ request blew the prince away. Adjusting his tunic, loosening the ties at the neck and letting his leather jacket slide from his muscled shoulders, Timeras shifted uneasily. ““Ignobles working for the nobles? Ha!” So, it was ironic, and Timeras chuckled a little as well, grabbing one of Gundioc’s large mugs, shooting a questioning raise of his brows at Mathis, and drinking heartily.

Surprisingly, the Prince downed the ale nearly as quick as Gundioc. The ale dribbled a bit down the sides of his face and onto his neck. Timeras wiped it off with abandon, his slimy fingers resting on his breeches, soaking up the excess ale. The slap on the shoulder told Timeras it wasn’t a horrible idea, at least. The brothers may not want to work for him, or under any King, but at the very least Timeras was a friend and if the had anything gracious left in them they would aid a friend. Or, perhaps they were drunk enough to accept? Letting out a loud, bad-mannered belch, Timeras grinned from ear to ear, searching the bright eyes of Gundioc and the steady gaze of Mathis.

”Oh, it’s hardly such a funny notion, friend. Well? What say you?” Timeras looked pointedly at Gundioc, feeling his third ale already. The Prince was indeed very much nobility compared to these two; he certainly felt it. His voice showed a little edginess, taken aback at the man’s sudden mirth. ”I need practice and training, I know that much, and I’m sure you two have figured it as well…” Timeras wagged a finger between the two men with a sly look in his eye. Yes, he was sure the brothers Mallister constantly sized up the petty little Prince in their own minds. Timeras’ eyes lit up as well as a thought dawned on him.

Sitting up and leaning his arms on the table, Timeras opened his mouth excitedly, ”A-“ However, barely a sound came from him before the young boy, Brogan, approached the table, coming in between Mathis and the prince. The boy’s head barely reached Timeras’ shoulders even as he stood. His shaggy hair and plainclothes, not to mention his age, suggested he had is own agenda being in an Inn. Blue eyes gazed between the three with excitement and wonderment. Timeras looked at the boy reproachfully. What did the boy think he was doing? Surely he’d been listening the entire time.

Fears confirmed, Brogan shot out, ”Oh, Mr’s Mallister, you gotta stay! If there’s orcs you gotta help us!” The boy was not pleading, simply curious, and he was bouncing on his heels in excitement. Timeras looked quickly between the two men… did they even like children? This was not a usual topic of conversation amongst them. Timeras had not planned on allowing Brogan to meet them, as he said earlier, but then, Timeras should have known the boy would have an idea of his own.
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..tell me your heart doesn't race for a hurricane or a burning building. -asw
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« Reply #29 on: October 15, 2007, 06:30:49 PM »

Brem Surrinaam

Brem's hand went to the bone knife he kept tucked in his waist.  He stood up from the table as quickly as his girth would allow.  "Who are you?"   he voice had more than a little fear in it.  It was obvious that this man was listening at the door.  He might have rushed him, right then and there, but he stayed his knife with the observation that, although a fool and a horrible spy, the man knew how to handle a weapon.

A loud harrumph escaped Brem.  "Well, you are no spy of the king's, or I have given him far too much credit.  Do you work for Xandreth?"  He glanced over to the stunned Dahlen.  "Close the door, Dahlen.  The damage is done now, unless you plan to disarm the man."   Then, as an after thought,  "And make sure we have no other unwelcome visitors out in the hall."  

He stared hard at the man who had literally fallen into their laps.  If nothing else, he was a co conspirator now.  "Speak friend, the gods have blessed you today.  Your life is safe this day."  Of course, the gods had always been fickle.
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