O' Death

[-Ezekiel]

OOC:A little something I was listening to while writing this.

It was a good feeling, have pride in your work. Lords know she had earned the feeling. Every table scrubbed clean, not gleaming, you can't make wood gleam unless it had been varnished. And no barman round these parts would bother with that. Expensive and wasteful. Easy to get dirt, flakes off and you have to spend time keeping it clean. Nope. Warm hot warm and a good stiff brush. Kept the tables clean, not that the regulars cared. Mead and good food were their chief concerns. Lively talk and a warm fire too. It being summer, it was not necessary but there had been an uncommon chill in the air these last few days. Still, standards were expected. If people were cold, you lit the fire.

The first of the locals shuffled into the tavern, tracking dirt on to the floor she had swept so many times today. She looked at the barman who gave her a weary shake of his head. She was impatient, something to be expected from one so young. Sixteen years old, the eldest of nine, working to support her mother and siblings after her father died. It was a good job, better than lying on your back with your legs in the air or scrubbing clothes. She was treated fine and the regulars were polite. She never had any trouble with any sailors or young men of questionable behaviour. The older gents kept them in check.

Moving about the tables, she counted heads, her little way of keeping track of who was in the tavern. Everyone had their tables, usually a game of dominoes was played on the biggest of the round tables. She looked over to it and saw that it was empty, her nose crinkled in confusion, she turned around and saw the game on another table. It was strange, course it had been that sort of day. One of the serving girls told her that there had been a strange man in town. A little old man who had a note book and wrote everything down. Course no one else had seen him, most had thought he was one of them tax-men. Nobody cared for them.

Those hairs on the back of her neck rose as she swung a tray of tankards on to a table. Out of the corner of her eye she saw some one sitting at the big table. But when she turned to look there was no one there. More regulars arrived, some looked to the big table but didn't fill it. It was strange. Dogs had been barking all day, horses wouldn't stay still either. Cattle had been hard to control. Pigs too. Only the chickens were fine. Something about those birds was a bit too dumb for her liking.

"Ya hear about Quimby, Sarah?" called out a regular to her as she brought a tankard toward the man. "Not a single word Marv, heard he was sick couple of days ago" she said as she scooped up an empty tankard for refill. "Was is the word for it. He died this morning." "Poor thing, he was foolish to over work at his age." "Aye, you know how his wife was a superstitious thing?" "Oh yes, heard she liked to dabble in strange doings." "Strange is putting it kindly. She was queer that one. Well, she was keeping vigil, waiting for the reaper she said to her grand-daughter. Any way, girl goes off to make her a cupper when she hears a scream. We heard it too, came running did the missus and me. When we get there, we find the girl is bawling her poor eyes out, poor lamb scarcely twelve, in the bedroom was her grandfather as dead as one expects from a man who looked like him. But so was his wife, dead as a door nail. Sitting bolt upright and a look of terror on her face, like she had seen something."

Dark muttering filled the tavern, superstition was chief religion around these parts. Some made signs, others muttered prayers. Couple shook their heads. "She couldn't have just died." said another loudly. "Did, I saw her, sitting there in front of that queer looking glass she has." said the first man, just as loudly.

"You know with those strange marks on them. Any way, my Ethel goes off and gets the healer. Healer thinks it's about Quimby, shuffles in, on his own time mind you, and he's just as shocked as we were. He said he had never seen it before. Old girl like her was spritely. Still, he checks her over and does the usual to check if she's dead. Sure enough, dead. Course we go off and get the girls mam, she's shocked and starts complaining about how she has to dig two holes now. They were all good with one hole, two was pushing it a little for her tastes."

Talk turned to how the harvest was going. Talk of death never lasted long. People got over it quickly enough. Still, she thought about taking some flowers to Quimby's family. Just to be polite. Her mother always said polite was best when you had nothing better to say. Picking up the last empty tankard, she swept back toward the bar. Leaning with her back against the bar, she looked out over the room as it settled into its usual hum. She felt pleased again, but the big table unnerved her. She looked at it from the corner of her eye, she could just see someone sitting there. A little old man, he had a note book in front of him. She got the impression he was smiling at her. Shaking her head, she was about to ask the barman about it when the door opened.

Doors opening aren't enough to warrant interest from a packed tavern. Some people notice, others just keep going with their business. Not this time though. A man entered, and immediately everyone looked up at him. He was big, too big. He had to duck under the door as he entered. Everyone seemed to hold their breath as he looked around the tavern. Sarah felt her breath just in her throat as the man walked forward. She had seen big men before, on the docks. They sort of lumbered about, too big to move properly. Not this man, he moved like water. Clear and flowing, not a single wasted movement.

He was wearing a long black travelling cloak, could have been a tent for some of the men here. She could make out the size of his arms and hands, big was all she could think, until she looked at his face. One side had a vicious looking scar on it, his right eye was missing and the other one was dark and angry looking. He could have been handsome, in a chiselled sort of way. Some stubble on his broad chin, gave him the look of a mercenary. They got them sometimes in the tavern. Usually the experts who didn't want to be bothered. He must have swept the room with his good eye, because everyone looked down at their drinks or food and tried not to make eye contact. She watched him carefully, he walked straight to the big table, must have been small to him, and sat down. She noticed that it wasn't in the chair where she thought she had seen the old man. He seemed to turn toward that spot.

Remembering herself, she walked toward the table with her tray held in front of her. "Hi, what will you have?" she asked the man, trying to focus on where she thought the old man was, but the big man's appearance distracted her. She noticed scars on his arms as he pulled his travelling cloak off and folded it up. Big scars, this man must had been in some fights. "Mead please. Also, what have you got to eat?" His voice made her quake, it shook her chest and made her hold her tray tighter. It rumbled, like an earthquake. It made her afraid. Fear, it seemed to root her to one place and cause her tongue to freeze in her mouth. A little voice told her to run away. "We - we - we have roast, I think it's pork." she squeaked as the big man nodded slowly. "Porks good then. Three plates please. If you've got any potato bake that would go down a treat. Three meads, three roast porks and if there's potato bake, bring out the whole tray. A couple of friends of mine will be coming, one of them loves potato bake." He placed gold coins on the table, she nearly gasped, gold coins were rare in this tavern. He pushed them toward her and nodded slowly at her. Picking them up she counted them while walking back, her hands trembling as she doubled checked it. Fifteen gold pieces. The barman was just as shocked.

Slowly the hum of the tavern returned, it wasn't as lively but it was there. She made her way out amongst the regulars, smiling and joking with them. The cook was just as shocked as everyone else, the other serving girls were trying to figure out what to spend the fortune on, barman knew what to do with it and locked it away. The cook asked the big man how she should do the potato bake. His reply was cheese and bacon. Cook looked happy about the request, course with fifteen gold to think about, any one would be happy.

When the food was ready, she picked up the plates and placed them on the table with care. She was about to ask the big man when his friends were about to arrive when two loud voices seemed to enter the tavern causing everyone to look around.

"I'm telling you, old women do not fall dead like that. Something killed her." "Old age and the site of her ugly mug in the mirror would have done that." "Do not belittle the dead. Besides that was a spirit glass, she was trying to see Death." "I don't understand the fascination with trying to see Death. Bone head of an idea." "That was a poor joke. Here?" "Yeah it was a bad joke. Might as well be here. I've been banned from every where else. Don't you own that place over there?" "I do, can't stand the food. The cook is a bastard. Why are you banned?" "I burnt down the Cock's Ball, got into a fight at the Rams Head, drank the Sailor's Wench dry, deflowered the Flowered Maiden and forced a man to marry a sturgeon at the Fisherman's Hole." "How did you deflower a tavern?" "With great difficulty."

The tavern burst into peals of laughter as the two voices were joined by two very different looking older gentlemen. One was tall and thin, the other short and stout. The taller one was dressed in a rich red coat, black waist coat, white shirt and black pants. The shorter one was dressed in a monk's cassock and was sporting the finest handlebar moustache any one had ever seen. Both men looked around the tavern in confusion, both seemed to stiffen when they spotted the big man at the large table. The taller one waved his shorter friend forward before addressing the tavern.

"Greetings gents, thanks for minding your manners and listening in on our conversation, not that we kept it private. Barkeep, here's a bag of gold, let them drink themselves stupid" he said tossing a leather bag over everyone's heads, where it landed perfectly on the bar. The unmistakable sound of clinking made everyone's heads spin before someone realised what had been said. "Enjoy yourselves, lord knows you've earned it. And if you haven't then you better get out and earn it." "That's you out then!" shouted the shorter man as he sat down at the big table to the laughter of the room.

"Here, I was at that wedding" shouted someone in the tavern as the tall man walked toward his friend. "Were you? Do you remember what happened to my pants? Every wedding I go to I end up losing my pants and a bridesmaid." "You put them on the fish." "Why?" "You said the fish was going to be in charge and should wear the pants." "Oh, makes perfect sense then."

[-Kilik]

(Hrm... The runaround is just fine. Just a tough entry but this helped )

The night was still young. Thus far there was not much of anything going on. Each step he took, he dreaded. With the sounds of the waves crashing, his nerves were already on edge. Memories of a time long gone forced him to reconsider what it was that he was doing here. The weight of his sword had seemingly doubled as he became the stranger in the night. A stranger to his own thoughts. Looking up from his steady pace, his gaze was directed towards two gentlemen -The first tall, thin. Nothing unusual about him apart from the dark velvety look and sharp tail of a waist coat that the night's embrace had given it with the flickering of the shadows. The other seemed to have a ghastly tendril wreathing through his nose.

Tricks of the night, he couldn't help but muse as they went on speaking about a recently dead couple. Whatever had piqued his curiosity, the wreathing, flickering tentacles, the bemusement and adoration of seeking death. He chose to follow them. As always before entering, he tapped his boot against the door sill and held his breath as he opened to a flash of bright light that took a second of re-adjusting to and he exhaled to the commotion of the bar.

No one really took any notice of him. They never did. Yet it was strange, he walked with heavy steps and somehow it was always quiet. Silent treading, his left hand by force of habit moved to gently grace the handle of Leal Dolor, held in place by a reverse back-strapped sheathe. With the acknowledgement of his sword still in it's place he took to a spot at the bar. Waving on for a drink.

"Like a drink there?" Her voice was sweet and she looked just as unnerved as he felt but maybe it was just the night itself. "It's on the house." She quickly cut in as if reading his thoughts.

"Water will do just fine." Why was it always water? Why was it always during the night that the world seemed to threaten his sanity. The bar was filled with humankind of the most despicable nature, drunks. A unique group of people sat in the corner. Each seeming to be twice the size of the one before it. Warren couldn't help but ask himself who the four people were.

At first he knew he planned on seeking out details about the couple who had come to passing today. Wanted to know about the tithing that death had tolled for today. Yet this group of gentlemen... He couldn't keep his eyes completely off them, and it wasn't the size of them. He'd seen big people, maybe not bigger, but Warren had seen half-giants among his old brigade's and a few merc's. It was the eldest gentlemen that snagged his attention. Moving at whatever ill willed pace he chose, bent over his notebook, just writing away. Yet he existed like a flicker of dust just visible out of the corner of your eye. Would he dare look directly towards them?

"Why was this night so unnerving?" He couldn't help but mutter as he took a slow sip of water.

This post has been edited by Kilik on Jun 22 2012, 12:12 PM

[-Alucard]

The massive shadow in the moon light walked down the street as he headed towards the only place in town that might have a nice hot meal and a bed. Now he was not really one to shirk sleeping in the cold wilderness, but with it being surrounded mostly by farm land he thought the tavern would be a better place. Besides most small towns get mighty upset and superstitious when a couple of their cattle disappear or a large wolf is seen near by.

So it was with these thoughts that Balthor made his way towards the tavern. As he got closer he realized that in his current state he would not fit through the damn door. Sighing to himself and cursing the luck he walked over to the shadowed ally next to the tavern and used some magic that he hated using. One reason being it gave people the wrong impression about his size and the other being..well it made him look like a blond dwarf.

After a moment the now four foot tall dwarf of a giant came walking out of the shadows with his cloak in his pack. He then stepped through the door and not many people turned their heads to his entrance. Though the odd one that did snickered to his buddy and went back to drinking. So being only four feet tall he walked over to the bar and hopped up on a stool with a very dwarfish grunt and scowl on his face.

"Give me one plate of what ever the special is and some stout ale. After that I would like to see about renting one of your rooms." The Bar maid came over and acknowledged his request after a quizzical look. It was his guess not many Dwarves came through these parts these days. After the girl went to place his order he turned around and saw a few men staring at him snickering at one of the tables.

Another reason he hated using this trick not only was he barely the size of a human child but most folks liked to pick on the lone short dwarf. So Balthor decided to simply ignore the pour saps and turned his attention back to the bar just as the barmaid returned with his mug. "Thank you very much lass" He then went to reach for some coin for the drink when she weaved him off "No need for that it is on the house."

He thought that was strange but didn't argue with the girl. Instead he picked up his mug and took a healthy swig. Things were getting stranger and stranger these days it seemed. Maybe he should head to the land of the dwarves next and try to learn some new crafting techniques along with some good dwarven metal.

[-Ezekiel]

It would seem that the night was going to be a long one, if I were to judge it by the amount of money Leopold had just passed across the bar. Knowing him, the bag contained enough coin to buy this dump of an inn and the town as well. Of course he liked to call it insurance, I called it bribery. He threw money around the poor parts to ensure that he was better liked than the local lords. Not that many were around these days, the Aesir was, if it was still the case, the rulers of this land. Being of Roft stock myself, I had recently travelled to my old manor to ensure that no one had made off with anything of value since my family's exodus. Unsurprisingly, minor items had gone missing and someone had decided to fill the ornamental pond with bread. Two guesses who.

I weaved myself through the crowd and sat down at the table Leopold had directed me to. Sitting across from me was one of the largest men I had ever seen. There was something oddly familiar about him, despite the shocking scar on his face that gave him that murderous look, he also had one of those faces that you can't help but remember. Might also be that when you are looking at a man as large as this, you tend to not forget who they are.

"I take it you know Leopold rather well?" I asked conversationally as I pulled a mug and jug of ale towards me. The large man looked at me with a rather peculiar expression, he seemed inclined to smile but for some reason was not going to, giving him an odd grimace expression. I merely took it as surprise that I was trying to strike up conversation.

"Our paths have crossed before. He maintains a healthy distance. I ensure he doesn't anger me." he said in a volcanic rumble. So they have fought before. Well, if Leopold was the reason behind that scar then I'd hate to see the injuries Leopold sustained. "No, the scar was not from Leopold." said the man, this time a grin definitely pulled at the corner of his mouth. Something about how he said that made me stop, for a brief moment I felt like I was being examined under a lens, it was quite unnerving. "This scar was done around the time of his grandfather, or rather when his grandfather was a younger man. Being a half blood helps the aging process."

"Oh, your half elven? Don't see many half elves with your stature. Human mother?" again I was being purely conversational. The big man seemed to flinch before calming down and pulling a piece of paper and charcoal from his belt before answering me. "Aye, we lived down south, near the elven city." "Dangerous place," I remarked as the man unfolded the paper and started to draw. "Elves back then were notorious for being bastards." "True enough" he said as I watched a woman's face appear on the paper in front of me, this wasn't just some mercenary drawing for fun, it was an artist at work, he had real talent. "My mother was raped, elven hunting party." Something about that rang little alarm bells in the back of my head. It was like I had heard a story like this before. "Oh dear, judging from your size your of tribal blood too. No doubt it was hard on her." "She survived" he said, I was mesmerised by the drawing, the man obviously cared deeply for this woman as he drew her almost as if he was remembering her before a great change. She was beautiful.

"So what food did you order?" said Leopold as he sat down next to me. His time spent talking to the locals clearly over as his eyes flicked from the large man to the drawing before sighing. "Are you still drawing her? She's dead you know. Let her go." "I will let her go when I am free. Besides, you can't understand." Turning toward me, Leopold gave me a look that said he thought the larger man was silly. I on the other hand did not share his view.

"You loved her? Very dearly it would seem. Wife?" I asked as the big man finished the drawing and looked up at me. "Lover, partner, enemy, mother and friend." he said simply, I nodded sagely before tuning back to Leopold. "You would never be able to understand it. It is why Charlotte has always refused your advances." "I'm sorry if I don't have a deep and profound connection to a woman like you two have. I apologise if my inability to commit has not made me a member of what ever club this is."

Leopold pulled one of the mugs toward him and filled it, he looked between me and the big man for a moment before looking at me shrewdly. "You still haven't figured out who he is have you?" he said smiling that smile that got him into so much trouble. "He's a mecernary and an artist. Seems like a good chap. My name is-" "Richard Urd-Thor, son of Gunthar Urd-Thor who died at Charlemange Sky. You have three daughters, one married with a young son, one the head of the assassins in Nazca and the other is sixteen. Your wife Charlotte enjoys yelling at you and practical jokes."

Now I was frightened, angry but frightened. The big man had just listed details not many knew. I looked to Leopold to see if this was one of his jokes, he shook his head ever so slightly, I noticed that his metal arm was under the table and that he was still looking at the big man. The big man chuckled softly before leaning back in his chair and looking at Leopold carefully.

"Your friend is a fine fellow Leopold, but really you should have given him a warning, now be so kind as to turn your arm back into it's normal state before I remove it." I watched Leopold move very slowly, raising his arm to above the table so I could see that he had turned it into a blade. The big man then turned his attention on to me and for the briefest moment I saw and only I saw, that the scar was an illusion, in fact the entire dress of this man, the leather armour and travelling cloak was false. He was sitting there in plate armour, decorated in skulls and other hideous motifs, his eyes were liquid black and yes there were two of them. That feeling you get in the back of your head when you meet someone you think you know, that feeling came back as a flight or fight response.

"My name is Ezekiel"

Oh bugger me.

[-Calignious]

Starting everything over from scratch is never an easy thing to do. The life the former knight once lived was a thing of the past, and it was now time to take matters into his own hands. It wasn't a second chance from some sort of stupid life-altering mistake, instead it was something Saylen was forced into.

For several years the heavy woodland had treated him well, but being alone was something that the golden-haired lad couldn't stand. Thus, he made his way around the land and searched for work in anything he could find. Luckily enough, an old farmer somewhere in Roft was looking for an extra pair of hands. It wasn't the kind of work that the former knight was used to, neither was it the type of work he wanted to get himself involved in; however with the little money he had left - he had no other choice.

The old man offered him a bed to stay, and even three full meals a day. Maybe he was in luck after all, but after a full day of working out in the field he discovered why the man needed some hands. It was difficult to believe that before he was hired, this old farmer did all the work.. by himself. The amount of work was back-breaking and he admired the man's sense of work ethic. He too was like that in the past, with his own work - but now things have changed. They always do.

The old man enjoyed having company around, and found himself fully engrossed in telling many stories of his past, and life as a farmer. Although it was a little dull to Saylen, he remained polite and listened to the old man's musing silently.

After another long day at work, the former knight found himself craving a drink. Thanks to the old man's directions, he was out on the roads again looking for the tavern that fit the farmer's description. Soon enough, he found it and walked right in wearing humble farmer's clothing. He blended in like any other farmer in the city, and took a seat at the bar.

While waiting to be served, he glanced around to the other farmers who have accumulated and those who were at the big table. There was definitely something odd about the people who sat at it. Nonetheless, he held back any judgement especially of the large man with the scar.

"What will you be having tonight?"

The voice of the bar maid broke his train of thought, and Saylen thought for second before spurting his order. "I'll have a tall glass of mead, to start things off." She replied quickly, "Anything to eat? Everything is on the house." The former knight shook his head, he had already eaten at the farm and was just looking for a drink. Just before the maid can walk away he began to question her, "Excuse me, but why is everything on the house?" She smiled at the young man's question and just pointed to the four at the large table. He turned to look now, and then turned back to face the opposite direction. The maid left and brought back his glass of ale.

He let it sit there for a bit, before lifting it up to the rim of his mouth. Several gulps later, and the bottom of the glass was placed back on to the bar. He then finally noticed the blonde dwarf propped up on a stool beside him, he looked down to him and nodded his head. With a slight grin, he raised his glass again.

"Cheers"

He glanced back at the large table before looking down into the contents of his glass, as he funneled the mead into his throat. Then set it back down again.

[-Alucard]

Balthor continued to sit there fro sometime just minding his own and nursing the second ale brought out to him. Even though he was in this small form he could still handle a lot of liquor but he was never really one to drink to much. It was at this point that another individual came into the bar and sat down next to him at the bar.

He tried not to over hear much of what was going on and still kept glancing into the corner with the four unusual men. He then heard the man next to him said "Cheers" before raising his glass. Balthor nodded his own head at the man and replied with a simple Cheers as well before taking another sip. It was at that point that his food arrived and Balthor picked up a piece of the meat taking a couple of bites. His head then turned back to the large table in the corner.

Before he could catch himself he found himself speaking allowed. "What is it about those gentlemen in the corner. One of them makes me feel uneasy, while another would make the fur on the back of my neck stand up. The other two just seem to grab attention period." When he realized he was speaking out loud he cursed himself before turning back to quietly eat his meal and drink his ale.

[-Calignious]

The dwarf sitting beside him didn't seem like the talkative type, at least that was something the two had in common. Under any normal circumstances the farmer in training would follow suite and continue on to my mind his own business. However, this wasn't really a normal circumstance. You see, the young druid just finished nursing his first glass of mead; but soon the ball will roll - and things might get a little weird.

His second round arrived, and almost as quickly as it came Saylen hit the bottom of the glass. From then on it was a snowball effect. The more he drank, the more he wanted, and the louder he gets.

For a moment there he didn't even notice that his neighbor was already tearing up a meal. Now, he didn't know the dwarf personally, but there was definitely something troubling the poor man's head. The druid slouched on the stool and continued to pound glasses of mead at a time, his face was starting to swell up red and his stature was more relaxed. The dwarf startled to ramble with a low voice, something about the four who paid for all of this. He sounded worried about it all, but of course there wasn't anything to worry about - not with booze around.

"Eh there, don't be so worried! Anyone who'd buy us a drink is someone we should be thanking!"

The atmosphere was merry, at least that's how it appeared to be to Saylen. Everyone was drinking and telling their stories, hell even the four noble souls who paid for this looked like they where in deep conversation. The druid slid off his stool with a tankard in hand, and made his way over to the large table. It was about time someone thanked them for such a merry feast.

He leaned on to the table and looked at each of them with a smile, clearing his throat before proceeding.

"Good evening, good sirs! I'd like to thank you for this sacred drink and this merry feast!"

He rose the tankard now above his head, some of the mead overflowed around the rim. The druid then drank the tankard dry, and slammed it down on to the table.

"As a token of my eternal gratitude, I offer gifts! It isn't much but it's the least I can do for such a fine group of gentlemen."

All sorts of seeds filled the palm of his hands, as he rummaged through his pockets and bag. When he held them tightly in a balled fist, his green eyes for a moment glowed. Almost instantly the seeds grew into an impressive bouquet of flowers with various colors and species. Saylen held it over his heart and bowed his head, then placed it at the center of the table.

"You sirs looked like you needed some color and beauty," his eyes glanced over the man in plate armor, "especially you!" The man's dark clothing was a little disturbing for him, but the drinks hindered his fear, and he went on.

"Before I take my leave, may I know your names so that I could always remember the kindness shown to me today?"

[-Alucard]

After the other man had a few more drinks and got up to go over to the table Balthor finished his meal quickly. Then he looked over and saw the man approach the four and produce flowers for them. It was at this point that he decided it might not be such a good place to stay after all. SO he got up from his stool at the bar and bowed his head to the barmaid.

"I am sorry but it looks like I will not be needing that room for tonight. Thank you for the fine food. Please tell the chef that it was good and I give him my best regards." With that Balthor turned around and made his way out the front door of the tavern. He suddenly had a very strange desire to run free and wild tonight. For once in his life he was going to enjoy it and the next moment a large black wolf was seen shooting out of the alley way near the tavern into the darkness.

((OOC: Balthor Out enjoy))

[-Ezekiel]

OOC: Sorry kiddles, Papa Zeke is out of here. You can find me in Nazca with Richard and Leo.