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Author Topic: Wison's Breath Inn  (Read 638 times)
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Kaldez’Yadra
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« Reply #30 on: October 15, 2007, 11:50:25 PM »

Kaldez's eyes were still intent on the two men as the other man, besides Dahlen, spoke "Who are you?" the man said in a voice full of what kaldez recognized as fear A good thing for you, you would not get that knife your hiding out of it's sheath before i ha d a seastar planted in your neck. the man continued "Well, you are no spy of the king's, or I have given him far too much credit.  Do you work for Xandreth?" he looked at Dahlen "Close the door, Dahlen.  The damage is done now, unless you plan to disarm the man." "Close the door, Dahlen.  The damage is done now, unless you plan to disarm the man." He then turned his gaze to Kaldez who returned the hard gaze with one of his own, his eyes burning, he was not goin to die here or be bullied! he would escape the city after disposin of these to if he must. "Speak friend, the gods have blessed you today.  Your life is safe this day." Kaldez relaxed slightly, he was still ready to throw if need be but there was no need ot be overly hostile. "I am Kaldez'Yadra, i am not in the employment of the high priest Xandreth. Infact though i am very seperate form my people i do not like the fact that he holds one of my people hostage. And you who are you? I know you are Dahlen Kunvayle." the last part he directed at the large man who had pulled him into the room Curse my foolishness, i should have been paying more attention to what was happening then too these two's conversation, then i would not be in this perdicament!
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Nothing is impossible for impossibility is impossible- Kaldez'Yadra
Krinaia
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« Reply #31 on: October 16, 2007, 06:36:43 PM »

A figure rode silently up to the inn concealed within the deep shadows of its cloak. Krinaia dismounted Swift her horse and walked into the stable, the horse following loyally behind her. "Come now," she whispered to the horse, as she opened the stable. The horse obediently trudged in, and Krinaia shut the door. With one last look after Swift, she made her way to the entrance of the Wison’s Breath inn.

Krinaia drew her hood up higher over her head, covering her long, black hair and her piercing blue eyes. Coming to the door she pushed it open and breathed a sigh of relief as she was greeted with the warmth emitting from the fireplace. As the door closed, she looked around and saw a few there. She knew the inn will fill up more towards the night.

She removed her cloak hood and her long black hair spilled about her back and shoulders She wore well fitted leather pants that were tucked into leather boots, both a deep brown and both appearing well worn in. Not too new, not too old as to fall apart. A cream shirt, lacings loose so it was thrown open at the throat, a silver necklace with an aquamarine in it visible. Full sleeves peeked out from beneath a deep green fitted vest, its low wide square neck taking full advantage of her feminine form. A sword carried upon the right side of her waistline.

I will need a key to a room before the inn fills up with its regular clientele she reminded herself. But what she need right now was a drink and some peace and quiet.

She walked to the bar, caught the attention of the barkeeper and ordered a drink. He was a giant of a man but he didn't intimidate her. She paid the man and picking up the drink she strode confidently across the room and quickly chose an empty table for herself. Peeling back her cloak, she laid her saddlebag and her cloak across one of the spare chairs, and took the seat nearest the fire.
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Till taught by pain, men know not water's worth
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Mathis Mallister
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« Reply #32 on: October 16, 2007, 09:32:35 PM »

As the story reached it violent climax of each brother wounding the other near mortally, Gundioc seemed to be on the edge of his seat, likely making the entire establishment wonder when he would tip over. "So there I was, on the floor, sword next to me soaked in my blood. I realize Gundi here was hisself again so I reach over to the damn thing to hand it back to him, but he stops me, and says 'Keep it!'" Gundioc burst into raucous laughter at that, like he always did, and even Mathis grinned. It was one of the few stories of theirs that had no need for embellishment, though sometimes Gundioc would add fabricated elaborations on the method of his wife's death. It seemed he still held some great hatred towards her for her imagined infidelity - that or for the simple reason that she was a woman.

Timeras seemed more entertained by Gundioc's enthrallment than with the storytelling itself, but Mathis had to admit the suspense of when the chair would snap or buckle was the very essence of excitement. Just as Gundioc's guffaws began to subside, the prince fueled them by raising a hand and asking the brothers to be his tutors. Mathis had already made his judgement of the lordling and saw the potential therein, and saw no reason to deny the request. Gaining the man's utmost trust was paramount if he was to follow through with the course of events playing over in his mind. "My brother was an excellent tutor," Mathis offered "before he became a sot." Over the years Gundioc's fighting style had degenerated from the practical elegance of Erpheronian swordplay to simply thrashing all about him until no man remained to offer challenge.

Mathis still favored the former, using the ancient Ephord of his ancestors to great effect. The weakness of this style lay primarily in the fact that the weapon was next to useless against heavily armored foes - it's point blunted and it's blade wide to make it sturdier and but here in the Icelands, he was as likely to encounter a man in full plate as he was another bottle of wine. Here, men wore leather and fur, with only the true soldiers in mail hauberks, and even then otherwise exposed. The orcs were more vulnerable still, and would never waste precious metal on armor when it could produce a pile of spearheads. Mathis looked down on the weapon he bore, and clutched the old scar at his side, his light coat having been pushed aside to display the wound during his story.

Mathis was about to ask the Prince of Remusiat when he'd like to begin his lessons when a young boy came darting up to the table, addressing the Mallisters by name and pleading for their help in the battles ahead. Mathis turned on the child almost in astonishment, regarding the source of the distraction the same way he would have looked at his dinner had it spoken to him. With his left hand he seized the boy by the collar, and spoke the following with more inflection than he had displayed the entire afternoon; "I certainly hope that for the sake of your own hide you will think longer and harder on the notion the next time your overearly imagination insinuates that you address me as such. Do you understand my meaning boy?" Fear is the foundation of any profitable relationship.
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"When I treat with my enemies," replied Belisarius, "I am more accustomed to give than to receive
counsel; but I hold in one hand inevitable ruin, and in the other peace and freedom."
 - Gibbon - The History of the Decline and Fall of The Roman Empire -
Khel
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« Reply #33 on: October 17, 2007, 05:57:53 AM »

Brogan

When the nicer-looking of the two friends of Prince Timeras looked at him suddenly, Brogan immediately regretted speaking out of turn. The boy’s eyes grew wide and his face pale as he was jerked forward by his shirt. He could not look into the man’s eyes as he spoke. Looking pleadingly at Timeras, Brogan opened his mouth, but only a small sound escaped it, and instead he gulped, nodded frivolously.

Squeezing his eyes shut tight, Brogan awaited the blow he was sure to receive. Oh, where had all his training gone! Had he learned nothing in his nine years of life? Tears formed under the lids of his eyes, as frightened and ashamed as he was. Hopefully Prince Timeras would ask his friends to leave him alone, and Brogan gladly would. He was excited by the story the man was telling, he was even overjoyed to here if there was to be a war these two men would help. They were the type of man he wanted to be! Strong and eager to fight…

But Brogan was only nine, and right now he was scared out of his wits.

Timeras

Timeras started a little as Mathis grabbed Brogan by the collar and spoke scathingly to him. Bright blue eyes surveyed the scene, wondering why in all the lands Brogan would feel it safe to intrude like he did… especially if he had been watching all that time. Hearing the door open, Timeras’ snapped his head towards it as a woman entered.  She was beautiful, her dark hair contrasting her blue eyes, and she sat quietly by the fire. Looking around again, Timeras noted with satisfaction that no one seemed to be too concerned with the exchange near the fire, and turned his attention back to Mathis.

”Let the boy go.” Timeras said with a tired exasperation in his voice. Did these two ever tire of their own bawdiness? Timeras guessed not, but somehow it endeared them to him even more. Their true natures made them who they were. Before saying anything more, Timeras analyzed Mathis’ previous statement. Did he mean yes, they would tutor him? The idea put a grin on his face despite the current circumstance with the innocent boy before him. Better teachers than anyone in the Tower, Timeras considered the Mallisters to be.

Choosing to simply hope Mathis would let the poor boy go soon, and not take any further steps, Timeras thought on the war again. If these men were to be his sworn swords, they could be of great use if spread throughout the city. Did he trust the two? Certainly not. But… who could do the job better? The first course of action, of course, was to determine if indeed the skirmish was not the result of a stray band of Orcs out for a stroll and hungry for flesh.  Timeras did not want his people to suffer a siege, completely taken by surprise, but he feared that would be the case no matter what.

Sitting up straighter, Timears tapped his finger anxiously on the table, almost as a call to order. ”Forget the boy!” he said hastily, waving the issue aside and talking in a low voice, ”I must know for myself if a horde advances on Remusiat, hearsay will not keep my city safe.” Concern obvious in his voice, Timeras looked eagerly from Mathis to Gundioc and back, again hoping they would follow him, if not from loyalty then to keep him from dying foolishly at the hands of a bundle of orcs. He had to know if his people were in danger, and if they were he had to inform them with as much time to spare as he could.
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..tell me your heart doesn't race for a hurricane or a burning building. -asw
Your pal, Khel
Khel
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« Reply #34 on: October 17, 2007, 10:58:59 PM »

Dahlen Kunvayle

Closing the door quickly at Brem’s request, Dahlen turned back to the white-haired man as he armed himself against them. Ready to disarm him, as Brem also inferred, Dahlen stopped as the big man called him ‘friend’ and asked him to speak. Shaking his head slightly, Dahlen was sure he was a spy of some sort, assuring his employer of their actions.

However, the man seemed to direct his question at Brem, as he seemed to already know Dahlen. "I am Kaldez'Yadra, i am not in the employment of the high priest Xandreth. Infact though i am very seperate form my people i do not like the fact that he holds one of my people hostage. And you who are you? I know you are Dahlen Kunvayle." Narrowing his eyes, he wondered how the man knew him. He looked like no Remusian, maybe from another area in the icelands, though. His pale skin and light hair gave that away. Surely he was a spy, there was no other explanation.

Stomping hard over to the table, Dahlen whipped the chair around to face the man and sat, leaning towards him with his hands on his knees. He did not feel threated by the mans armament at all. The fire at his back popped and crackled, shadows cast about the room, and Dahlen’s fears of what the man heard heightened in the spooky atmosphere. Looking sharply at Brem, Dalhen started, ”How’d he know my name?” Turning quickly to the man on the floor, ”How’d ya know my name? If ya know it, how’d ya come by it Kaldez?”
« Last Edit: October 18, 2007, 03:36:48 AM by Khel » Logged

..tell me your heart doesn't race for a hurricane or a burning building. -asw
Your pal, Khel
Gundioc Mallister
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« Reply #35 on: October 17, 2007, 11:37:01 PM »

A sot?! Ive still a trick or two to teach you, you great liar! Gundioc was all grins as he heard his brothers description. Sadly, he knew it to be true. He once had an affinity for swordplay and eloquence that few could equal. He knew his brother had probably surpassed him in swordsmanship, but wouldnt admit it to anyone other than himself, he could not appear weak. And besides, he was stronger than Mathis! Could outdrink Mathis! Had more women than Mathis! His eyes glowed with contempt for the sibling seated across from him, his mouth still held grinning in place as he raised a mug, in a sort of salute to his brother. Buggering Bastard.

Gundiocs face suddenly turned sour as the bouncing form of some youth bubbled forth from underneath the table. His jowly face trembled with anger and his hand was poised, ready to strike down upon the boy, until Mathis grabbed him. A good thing, blows from Gundioc were known to be fatal, and given to a child, who knows what sort of a scene would be caused.

Gundiocs anger heightened still as the boy attempted to free himself of his brothers grib. The Prince tried to remedy the sudden shift in polarity of the situation by asking that they free the boy. Let him go!? Who knows what sort of mischief this wretch has been about! Who knows who hired him! He could be a spy, a rat, a foul worm planted to sow our end! Oh Mathis, if we are found out... Gundiocs voice was a harsh, very-much-audible growl, far more primal and anger-laden than his previous disposition throughout the afternoon. He lunged across the table, shaking mug and bottle alike, grasping for the boy. He locked his massive hand around the childs jaw, and turned his face toward his own. Normally Gundioc was intimidating without having to try, but now his eyes burned with choler and his teeth gleamed with madness as they gritted and gnashed at the air, a sign that this child had indeed upset him greatly.

Who sent you, you little bastard?! His fingers pinched tightly upon the boys face, obviously hurting him, though holding shut his jaws, disallowing him from crying out. He could see tears begin to swell in the corners of the boys eyes and let him go disgustedly, nearly breaking his neck as he thrust his head backward. Mathis still clutched to the rats collar, holding him in place the entirety of Gundiocs endeavors. His voice low and ominous, eyes still locked upon the sniveling creature across the table, he spoke, Forget him? Ha! Bring him with us...
« Last Edit: October 17, 2007, 11:38:53 PM by Gundioc Mallister » Logged

The townspeople wept with joy to see Gundioc go...
...for his appetite had claimed their best cakes and pies.
Kaldez’Yadra
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« Reply #36 on: October 18, 2007, 05:15:07 AM »

Kaldez kept a close eye on Gahlen as the man stomped to his chair by the fire, he turned to the other man saying ”How’d he know my name?” then turnign back to Kaldez he said "How’d ya know my name? If ya know it, how’d ya come by it Kaldez?” Kaldez smiled and relaxed, they wer on the opposite side of the table now, there was little they could do without him being able to react. "Dahlen, i must tell you, finding information is something i can be quit adept at when i need to be, but thats not hard, most men will talk with a couple ale's down the barrel and another in there hand. And finding out who certain officials are is one thing i do whenever i enter a city, that and something i do not wish to speak about. Now my turn for the question, what are you two doing up here, hmmm? Why do you two speak of the High Priest and worry about me being one of his spies? Hmmm, with that worry, the fact that this is a high official, maybe your that zealot guy, the one for the old gods, am i right?""
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Nothing is impossible for impossibility is impossible- Kaldez'Yadra
Mathis Mallister
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« Reply #37 on: October 19, 2007, 05:19:37 AM »

As Mathis rose from his seat, he made no move to let go of the boy Brogan. Gundioc had raised a valid point - what if this strange boy was a spy of Seregon's? A lackey of the Lot? It seemed unlikely, but the stakes were too high for anything but certainty. There were only two options if such suspicions proved accurate - keep the boy close, or put an end to his short life. Mathis was not known as a child killer, spitting an orc boy or three in the past, but never a human. Gundioc was not a common ptracticioner of the habit himself either, but Mathis had little doubt he would manage if it was decided to be the better course of action.

The lordling's tapping stirred Mathis from his musings, and he stood, dragging the boy along with him. He had told the prince a horde was coming, there was no doubt of it. No group of orcs would chase a scout to certain death under the city's nigh-inpregnable walls unless she had a great secret to hide, and what other information could ignorant waste-dwellers value save their pitiful strategies. With towers, with ballista, with catapults, or even mages, no orc could challenge these walls. The coming war might be bloody, but it would be no challenge. Merely a tool to be used to advance reputation to people like the Mallisters, and a dead iceman or three would not slow their quest for profit.
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"When I treat with my enemies," replied Belisarius, "I am more accustomed to give than to receive
counsel; but I hold in one hand inevitable ruin, and in the other peace and freedom."
 - Gibbon - The History of the Decline and Fall of The Roman Empire -
Khel
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« Reply #38 on: October 19, 2007, 05:31:08 AM »

Timeras

Brogan looked truly terrified as Gundioc grabbed his face and proceeded to question him loudly, and no doubt blowing disgusting breath into his face. Timeras thought it was quite enough of the brothers to torment the young boy, no matter how greatly they disliked children or thought him a threat, Timeras’ duty was to protect Brogan as he was in his charge. When Mathis stood, Timeras decided their display was about enough. Placing a large hand firmly on the arm Gundioc seized the youth with, Timeras stood as well and said firmly, ”Let the boy go. He is in my charge, and he will accompany us. Oh, get off it, you mongrol.” The last bit was full of exasperation.    

A bit melodramatic, yes, but Timeras thought he should begin to gain understanding of his place of command. Sure, he’d love to spend his days lounging and drinking and treating these friends as complete equals, but the fact was he was Crown Prince of Remusiat. He could not allow them to harm his people so, especially Brogan, who looked up to the Prince with so much admiration, and whose jaw was surely bruising by now. Found out. The words rang true in Timeras’ ear. Of course he always expected something of the sort from the two, and he shook his head a little at the irony of it all. Wanted men as the Prince’s sworn swords. Either it would earn him favor or great disrespect in the eyes of the people.

Now, getting on with business. ”The south gate will provide a roundabout way to discover the horde… again, if there is indeed a horde advancing. Let’s make haste towards the gate now. Brogan, you will accompany us that far, and wait there until we return with news.” Timeras bent and looked directly into the boy’s eyes, speaking in a kind voice, ”If the news be ill, you will make all haste to inform Altario Shialt-eck-Gorrin. He is the Army General’s aide and he will know immediately what to do. Do you understand?” Without waiting for a nod, Timeras knew the boy would do what he asked. Looking again between the brothers, Timeras raised his eyebrows.

”I will go whether you accompany me or not. I suggest we leave as night approaches.” His tone was final, as if decided, but Timeras knew the nature of people better than any tactics of military or guise. If they could provide him with a clearer way to approach it he would gladly listen. He hoped at the very least they would acknowledge his duty to his people and jump beside him in the tasks ahead. Then, as a final thought crossed his mind, ”And if you’ll let the boy go, I’d suggest he run to procure us mounts.”
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..tell me your heart doesn't race for a hurricane or a burning building. -asw
Your pal, Khel
Krinaia
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« Reply #39 on: October 19, 2007, 04:18:44 PM »

Krinaia sipped her drink thoughtfully, contemplating what her next move should be. She had come to City of Remusiat for a chance to explore the land with new people and a new culture. But upon entry she learnt that there were romers of a war.

Not that the news frightened her in any way but exploring a city in the midst of a war was stupidity. But now that she was here she might as well stay and enjoy for a few days before leaving.

Putting down her drink she leaned back in her chair and wondered what this new city had in store for her.
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Till taught by pain, men know not water's worth
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Mathis Mallister
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« Reply #40 on: October 19, 2007, 05:01:24 PM »

Mathis' own horse was still at the other inn in the harbor where the brothers had been staying. Ghelgath was his name, a great black beast with a black temper to match. He was one of Remusiat's own breed, dedicated to this new god everyone seemed to be up in arms about. Mathis pictured the boy approaching the horse and screaming as a long strip of skin was torn from his face, and grinned. Finally he released Brogan from his grasp, giving the child a gentle shove that pushed him into the seat that Mathis had occupied until a few moments before. "Heh, if you want the boy unharmed it's best I see to the horses, or at least my own."

He moved towards the door, but turned, offering a last bit of wisdom to the lordling. "If we are to go beyond the walls, I suggest you prepare yourself for the worst, sir. I told you that there is a horde approaching, and sorry to say - when it comes to orcs, I haven't been wrong yet." After the hour or so before the fire, the fresh gasp of wind as the door opened was shocking, but Mathis trudged out, evidently intending to meet his brother and new employer at the south gate as agreed. Memories of the sweet music of combat overwhelmed Mathis' conscious the entirety of his walk back to the harbor, and when he finally donned his armor, for a moment at least, he felt whole.
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"When I treat with my enemies," replied Belisarius, "I am more accustomed to give than to receive
counsel; but I hold in one hand inevitable ruin, and in the other peace and freedom."
 - Gibbon - The History of the Decline and Fall of The Roman Empire -
Tobac Indalen
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« Reply #41 on: October 20, 2007, 02:41:05 AM »

Tobac began to doze off, and he knew falling asleep always leads to trouble. He silenced his lute for a moment, before putting his fingers in his mouth, then rubbing them with his thumb. He sat ready to play, and eventually began to play a very fast tune. It was a thunderous melody pouring from his lute with rapid notes, and Tobac was beginning to believe this was his best song yet, even though he was making it up on the spot.
Tobac soon forgot where he was, and began to sing. Somehow, the words rhymed even though he had no idea what to sing of next. He sang of battles, places, people, and creatures he had never heard of. He had no idea he could sing so long without taking a breath. Then again; he didn't usually like to sing. It seemed he was better at it than he thought. He payed no attention to how tired he was, or the pain in his fingers. Music had always come first.
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"Reality leaves much to the imagination..."
Gundioc Mallister
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« Reply #42 on: October 20, 2007, 05:24:42 AM »

Gundioc turned in disgust away from the table. The boy was in the Prince’s service all along! A dupe most unworthy of the Mallisters. The clamor of his chair striking the table stirred some of the patrons and he was even greeted with a harsh curse from some geezer with his back to Gundioc. Feeling too lazy to turn back around and finish his own ale, he snatched the geezer’s and quaffed it, emitting a very emulsive belch, laden with spittle, ale and perhaps even some breakfast, before patting the geezer’s back and thanking him in an obviously sarcastic manner. The looks he received were rife with annoyance and dislike; even the bartender looked down his nose at him, but Gundioc could only smirk and wink at the barmaid, half-hid behind the bartender’s own immensity. “I’ll be back for you, my sweet. You’ll be dancing in my dreams this night.” He turned to the door and Timeras, and that stupid little wretch and his smile was pasted, once again, on his meaty face.

“Let’s get along then,” His smile dismissed momentarily, “But I swear, if that buggering sunspawn so much as reminds me of a bouncer, I’ll...” his voice trailed off, noticing Mathis exit and looking briefly at their table, which was littered with everything except coin for their meal. A laugh erupted from him, causing his belly to shake and more than one hair from his bear cloak to be dispersed generously behind him onto the plates and table of the geezer. “You’ve got this, right?” he clapped a hand on Timeras’ shoulder and pinched the cheek of the boy, who shrank back in terror at the monstrous man, and Gundioc exited the tavern, knowing the Prince would be prevailed upon to pay for the brothers. His grin wider than ever as he made extra sure to jingle the coin purse tucked away near his bosom as he led the Prince and child out into the gray brightness of the city.

Gundioc still squinted, though clouds held the sky ransom. The town was one giant shadow and he knew Mathis wished to be alone, considering the rapidity of his exit. However, Mathis was also the only one of the two Mallisters which knew the way back to their inn. Gundioc swore loudly, taking the Prince by surprise. Hand held over his brow, he turned to the Prince, “Do you or your illegitimate son know the way to the Boar’s Beard Inn?”
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The townspeople wept with joy to see Gundioc go...
...for his appetite had claimed their best cakes and pies.
Khel
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« Reply #43 on: October 21, 2007, 01:06:00 AM »

Timeras

Timeras watched Mathis release the boy and leave after his steed, and nodded approval. That wasn’t so difficult as he expected. Shortly thereafter Gundioc made a jest about his paying for the meal. Of course, he had expected to do so nevertheless and as he followed Gundioc out of the Inn he paused near the bar, gave Trina a quick wink, and dropped an abundance of coin from his purse onto the bar.

Putting his hand gently on Brogan’s head, he steered the boy out the door after himself, stepping into the street as Gundioc said, “Do you or your illegitimate son know the way to the Boar’s Beard Inn?” Giving him a mild grin, Timeras surveyed the day before answering. It was still chilly, there was still that ever present breeze, and there was a strange smell in the air. It could have been a mere figment of his imagination, but Timeras was set on edge by the feel in the air. Hanging over the city was a bleak future.

Glancing northeast at the looming Tower, Timeras thought of his father, of the turmoil the old man would endure before his death if this was indeed to be a war. Timeras hoped beyond all hope the King would have rest before his end. Gazing at his large, drunken friend Timeras said shortly, ”North. Up this street. See you at the gate.” Making his way towards the Tower then, not waiting to see if the man followed or understood, Timeras squeezed Brogan’s shoulder. At a brisk walk they made their way up the street, pushing past the scarce amount of people that bustled about it. Timeras’ feeling of haste and eerie silence in the air grew and he knew his face lost just a little more color.

He was also sure the youth had quite a scare, but knew he was brave and would not baby him with soothing words. Sooner than later he would need to learn to behave as a man; to mature. Reaching the Tower, as it was only a short walk, Timeras stopped before the entrance and said, quietly, ”I will wait here, could you bring my horse?”

The boy nodded shortly and jogged towards the stables. Timeras watched him, sure he was still shaking in his boots. Looking around, Timeras did not make eye contact with any guards, nor did he attempt to make known his presence there. He hoped not to be questioned at all. Yes, he answered to no one, but it did not mean nosy officials would not be overly curious, and his father overly protective. Brogan was quick, and it was only a few minutes before he heard the sound of hooves and the short steps of the boy returning to him. The noble stallion Brogan led was a deep chestnut, prominent muscles bulged on his beautiful frame. A smile found its way onto Timeras’ chiseled jaw as he approached, as it always did when he laid eyes upon the creature. Junari was a magnificent horse, and Timeras was proud to be his rider.

Kneeling before Brogan, Timeras said quickly, ”I will ride for the south gate, you may take more time to get there, but wait there until we return with news..” Timeras reached out and took the boy’s chin, gently this time, ”You are brave, Brogan.” was all he said, and he swiftly mounted Junari and kicked his heels into the horse’s flanks. He set off at a trot, a full gallop would draw far too much attention, and rode south toward the gate. Timeras felt for the sword at his waist. He did not bother to dawn armor, as he expected only to glimpse the orcs and ride back into the safety of his city. It may have been foolish, but it was not Timeras’ worst fear at the moment.

The southern end of the city was much different than the center, where the Tower and the Inn resided and Timeras spent the majority of his time. The housing was pushed tightly together, smaller and some were a shambles; there were more people milling about, and Timeras slowed to a walk as the gate approached. The walls loomed high and thick overhead, and Timeras realized a majority of his people lived in shadow. Reigning Junari in, Timeras surveyed the crowd, watching for either of the Mallisters, most likely Mathis. Regardless of their actions, Timeras would make known sometime during their stay his gratitude that they would join him, come alongside him, and serve.. no, partner with a Prince in his time of need. The brothers tried to be hard hearted, but Timeras chuckled to himself as he thought there was something more deep within. Very deep.
Logged

..tell me your heart doesn't race for a hurricane or a burning building. -asw
Your pal, Khel
Yarrow Graendathel
The Gandabout from Ylfferhim
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Half-elf Ylfferhim / Erpheronian


« Reply #44 on: Yesterday at 03:47:26 PM »

"... Ceh. I shudn't have brought ya here, laddie," Roscaht growled as he opened the Wison's Breath Inn's door and entered. Yarrow, who was still outside for the moment and daydreaming, snapped out and looked at Roscaht questioningly.

"Tavern brawl?" She suggested.

"Nah, it's not that. I... just ain't liking the air here. It ain't promising." Frowning, Roscaht turned to leave, avoiding Yarrow's eyes. Then it hit Yarrow.

"Aww... you're just worried about me," Yarrow teased in her mock-sweet tone and slapped Roscaht's broad shoulder playfully. Roscaht glared threateningly, just as Yarrow had suspected. She grinned assuringly. "I'll be just fine, Red Beard. After all, I don't look like a weak helpless lassie.. at least for the first impression. And if anything happens, I'm just gonna go up to my room and lock the door. Now... can I-"

"Yer just as naive as ever, arnt'cha, brat? When will ya ever grow up?!" Roscaht sighed. "I ain't satisfied with this. Listen, ya might be stayin' ere, but I'm gonna check back once in a whi-"

"I said I'm fine!" Yarrow rolled her eyes and burst the inn door open confidently as Roscaht chased after her fuming with incomprehensible insults.

Yarrow walked straight to the bartender, but even as she tried to look brave, she was actually quite intimidated by the man's tough looks. She tried to ignore her nervousness.

"Sir, I-"

"G'day. Got a decent room for this young lad? S- he's goin to stay'ere for 'bout a week or so. I'll be checkin' on him for once in a while to make sure he's not givin' any trouble." Roscaht slung his arms around Yarrow's slender neck and strangled her in between his arms threateningly, urging her to shut up. He tried to take out his purse but Yarrow kicked her huge companion's shin and swiftly unhooked her money bag from her belt and held it in front of her.

"How- *choke* much?" She grinned sheepishly at the bartender.
Uh oh... he's not going to like the commotion we've just made.... Might as well as be kicked out... she mentally sighed as she continued to childishly wrestle with Roscaht.
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Yarrow Graendathel
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