Old September 9, 2018, 04:22 PM   #1 (permalink)
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[Jaedaxia] Just one more drink - honestly!


It's early evening, as the moon is firmly set within the Jaedaxia summer night sky over top one of the local drinking holes. The inn is filled with lively music played by a piper and mandolin player off in one of the far corners. The tantalizing aroma of cooked pig blends beautifully with the smell of sweet tobaccos being burned in pipes. The conversations grow louder as the night progresses and the cups flow heavier.

As the main door opens, a group of large men clearly clad in sea fearing attire make their way in. Their boisterous laughs swell the doorway as they make their way in and cheer when the bar counter is within eyes range. As they make a b-line towards the bartender, a larger fellow from behind their group hangs back. Some look back to note him calling, "C'mon, Farstrider! The bar is that-a-way! We're so *hiccup* close to having to set sail once more! Have a dri..." The large man extends up a hand and his index finger causing the speaker to fall instantly silent. "I will be fine." a deep voice interrupts. "You lads have at the bar - I'll be over there." The large man points towards a far off corner furthest from the door that has available seating. The drunk lad waves off his large friend with a "baaah!" and makes his way towards the group, already beginning some sea shanties in attempts to serenade a couple young lasses at the bar.

Killian makes his way through the room, observing the locals in a bit of disbelief. It has been quite the number of years that he had set foot this close to where he had grown up: 10 years to be exact. He takes a seat that allows his back to be toward the wall and tips the chair back, bringing his brown boots to sit on the countertop crossing them at the ankles. From a pouch on his side he pulls out a two-piece wooden pipe that he constructs to its' 10 inch length by attaching the bell to the stem. He then removes some sweet tobacco from his pouch and picks it tightly before using a candle that is sitting on the table as a 'light.' The hooded figure's head slowly guides from side to side taking in the patrons before letting out a large smoke cloud, the words, "Northumbrians..." escapes his lips.

((This is an open thread))

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Old September 10, 2018, 05:40 PM   #2 (permalink)
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In a far corner, not far from the musicians currently entertaining the room, sat a man who, from first appearances at least, seemed just as large and imposing as Killian. Perhaps not as bulky, but, it was clear to see by anyone with eyes that the young man was not lacking in muscle by any means. His was just a longer, leaner frame. He sat there, scowling at the tankard sitting upon the table before him, one hand running fingers through his long dark blonde hair, pushing it from his face. With a snarl, he knocked the drinking vessel, which could now be seen to be empty, across the table and to the floor, the sound drowned by the crowd and the music.

Tyr wasn't happy. He sat back in his chair, one large forefinger tapping with agitated energy on the wooden surface of the tabletop. He had trekked across the wilds from his village on the northern tip of the peninsula, across snow and ice and rock, to find himself in the first city he had ever laid his pale blue eyes on. Oh, the mead must flow like water in such a place! He had trudged down the streets, finding one tavern after the other, until he finally chose this one.

Only to find out that, yes, the mead flows like water, but, only if you have the coin to pay for it. And, with the meager finances, he had at his disposal, that amounted to one tankard of drink. One. And, despite his obvious physical superiority over the barkeep, who barely reached his neck in height, no concession had been given. So, now he sat among the merriment in a less than merry mood.

So much for civilized lands. Hmmph.

For the umpteenth time since downing the last drops of his mead, he checked his pouch, frowning at the few remaining coins there. He would need to eat, after all. So best not to spend frivolously. But..Mead. And, the other drinks he saw splashing around the place. Ale and beer and whiskey! Another shaking of the pouch and he pulled the ties tight. He didn't even know where he would sleep this darkening.

Oh well. Something would turn up.
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Old September 10, 2018, 08:38 PM   #3 (permalink)
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Killian has an eye for potential and an even better eye for an opportunity. As he gives the establishment another once over he notes a large lad, clearly the fighting type, with a large bearded ax. They usually don't make'em as big as Killian so when one rears their head he always takes note. The ol' Sellsword's eye quickly scans him up and down, noting a past injury nursed by a careful gate or handedness he'd use to pull his pouch or grab a drink. It's at this moment that he notes the common struggle of many from Northumbria - the lack of funds. Clearly, this would be Killian's in. But, he is a chess player and always has to think three moves ahead. Eagerness shows weakness, cockiness shows carelessness. The tactical points of swordplay also carry over into negotiations.

Killian rises up to his feet as a barmaid saunters by. He grips the stem of his pipe within a devilish grin and plops coin far more expensive than the worth of the drinks on her tray and frees two rather large steins of ale from them. As he does so two men behind him begin to call out furiously. Killian calls through grit teeth, "Piss off you old hags..." yet keeps his eyes on the barmaid who blushes and chuckles. Killian sends off a wink before making his way across the establishment, swimming through the crowd like a fish moving upstream, towards Tyr.

As Killian approaches he places one of the steins down and slides it across the table at the man. "This putrid place is too sobering in itself..." He then pulls his pipe free from his teeth with his left hand and downs a hefty amount of the ale. "Believe me...I grew up around here." Killian leaves his back to the man and the table, resting his rump against the table's edge. He takes another deep drag of the pipe and blows a sweet-smelling cloud over his head, pausing momentarily just in case the man speaks.
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Old September 10, 2018, 09:21 PM   #4 (permalink)
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Just as the Vagaran was about to resign himself to a fate that lacked the beloved taste of alcohol, he spotted a large, imposing(at least to the weaker folk in the south)man, making his way towards Tyr's table. Ice blue eyes watched the warrior, as it was obvious from his look, as he wove his way through the crowd. A subtle glance down to his ax assured him it was easily within reach.

"Indeed.." he replied warily as he studied the big sellsword. Nodding his thanks, he took the offered drink and chugged down half of it before sitting it on the table and leaning back. The man offered his back, a sign of disrespect where Tyr came from, but...this was a different place. Different people. For all he knew, this was custom.

"I'm called Tyr, son of Kjeld. You, my friend, are big enough to be a Vagaran. I'd wager you have the blood of my kin running through your veins." He pushed the other chair out from beneath the table with his foot. "Have a seat. I prefer to share my drinking face to face."

Leaning back, he waited to see if the man would accept his offer, his hand never too far from the haft of his ax.
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Old September 10, 2018, 10:19 PM   #5 (permalink)
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The corner of Killian's mouth tugged in a smirk as he heard the man's words and the chair push out from its original position. He kept the stem of his pipe within his grinning teeth as he pulled the chair the remaining distance necessary for him and his longsword to clear over it, plopping his large mass therein. His icy blue gaze met that of Tyr as he was greeted, taking the man's features and name into memory.

"Yes, my father was a Vagaran. My mother a gypsy. What a mutt child they conjured up, eh?" A deep chuckle resonates from his chest before he takes another deep drag of his pipe. "The name is Killian Farstrider. At least Farstrider is what the lads call me." He then takes a glance over his shoulder towards the bar where a group of men are clashing tankards against one another's and toasting just about everything in a room with loud jarring cheers.

"Do you have some sea legs about you - or is the bearded ax more steadily swung on level ground." Killian casually nods his head in the direction of the man's weapon before taking a vast swig of his ale. Of course, the Sellsword would openly inform the man that he was aware that he was armed subtle or not.
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Old September 10, 2018, 11:42 PM   #6 (permalink)
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In truth, Tyr had made no effort to hide the ax, and it was in plain sight for all to see. He glanced down at the ax, then smiled at Killian. "It swings as steadily on one as the other. " He took another drink from his stein, careful not to finish it all in one gulp, and shrugged. "I've pulled the oars of a longship more than once." He jabbed a thumb in the direction of the port. "Though I'm certain I'd be lost on the deck of one of those big ships out there. Nothing I couldn't figure out, though."

He leaned forward, the leather of his armor creaking as he did so, and propped his elbows on the table. Icey blue gaze met icey blue gaze. "So, Farstrider, tell me why you've chosen to gift me with drink. You don't strike me as the sort to do a kindness for the simple sake of it. What is on your mind?"

He sensed no danger from the man, at least nothing immediate, and so allowed himself to relax a little. Perhaps a job was to be offered? Or the promise of riches through adventure? There was no way to know without further conversation.
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Old September 12, 2018, 11:30 AM   #7 (permalink)
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Killian would give a large mischievous smile clearly visible behind from behind the lip of his cup, giving Tyr a quick raise and lower of his eyebrows before taking a sip from the stein. "I pride myself in being a fairly good judge of character. Men like you and I..." he gestures with a large index finger around the room towards the other patrons, "We are not like these sheep. Our intents and desires cut as deep as our blades. I would not call myself a "normal patron" here. Yet, I have come through his port quite often. As I've said, I'm from the area and know the look of the locals. Besides, the way you were digging into that pouch you were sure to be either broke or a cad's wet dream. "

Killian laughs before downing the remains of his drink and gesturing for the barmaid to fetch him two more steins. With a large right hand, Killian wipes the excess ale from his lips and beard. He takes a sideways lean in his seat, his high arched brows furrowing into a bit of a judgemental gaze. "When you find yourself in such...dire needs...how do you front your cause? Do you have a profession?"

While Killian attempts to speak in a light-hearted manner as to not offend the stranger it is clear that he is being as serious as the grave.
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Old September 12, 2018, 02:38 PM   #8 (permalink)
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A shrug of his shoulders and he tipped back his stein for another chug, finishing off the remaining half of the drink, then mirrored Killian in wiping the excess from his beard. The man didn't beat around the bush, exactly, but, he still hadn't said what it was he wanted. Tyr wondered if that were the way of the people in the empire. If it was...he had some adjusting to do.

"For all honesty, I've yet to find work in these southern lands. My people are raiders. Were raiders. Things have changed much these past eras, and raids are not a common thing anymore. " He sighed and leaned back into his chair. "Which is what had brought me here. Out of my element, one might say." He gestured around to the patrons of the tavern. "You call them sheep. That may be as good a term as any, I suppose. None would last long among my kin. But, will I last long amongst them?" His lips turned up in the smile of one who craved a challenge. "We'll see. Perhaps you have some ideas on that, hmm?"

He had not mentioned his sad state of finances. It was not the man's business. And, besides, the sellsword had already guessed the meagerness of his purse anyway. The barmaid arrived, plopping two fresh steins onto the table and Tyr didn't hesitate to snatch one up and take a hearty drink.
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Old September 13, 2018, 09:06 AM   #9 (permalink)
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Killian would grin, listening to Tyr's words and watching his eagerness to grab the other drink. He would slowly set his stein down and give a jestful wink to the barmaid as she passed their table once more, clearing away the two drank tankards. As he heard the man speaking of how long he may last Killian would begin laughing, his head tossed slightly to the side. "Tyr, good man, the only thing guaranteed to us is death and sheitty booze." His deep chuckle would reverb off the inside of his stein as he drew another deep drag off of his drink. He then turned the bell of his pipe upside down and allowed the old embers and burnt tobacco to fall to the floor, crushing out any lit parts with his boot. With a pull at the bell, he separates the pipe into two parts and returns it back to a pouch on to his side.

Yes, these people are sheep. Day in and day out they do meager jobs for meager money that results in meager compensation. At the end of the day, their lives boil down to nothing more than these four walls. That is a fate that I refused to give myself. For a good 20 years, I worked the docks in Arkdun. Every day it was hauling casks of ale, piles of hay, boxes of ... anything. Just back and forth, from one deck to the next. And it always ended in a place like this. Drab - meaningless. That's why I took to my ship. At least the hauling and lifting that I'm doing results in my fair share of "compensation." His devilish grin seems plastered on his face as he takes another drag of his ale, keeping eye contact with Tyr before placing it down.

This conversation had been drawing out exactly how he intended it to. Killian loves swordplay and as such is a tactician. Every step, every angle is carefully mapped out. Openings left in his guard are typically baits for encroachment.
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Old September 13, 2018, 07:50 PM   #10 (permalink)
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The Vagaran raised his stein in cheer. "To death and sheitty booze!" And with that, downed the drink, slamming the vessel down with a loud smack on the table. He wiped his mouth and beard with the back of his hand and continued to study the man before him. He could wield the sword he had strapped to his hip, Tyr was sure, and he appeared to be of an age to have experienced enough to be considered educated in the ways of the world. Though, what that means to these southern people, Tyr didn't know. But, the young warrior decided with the confidence of youth and pride, if it came to a fight,he could take the older man.

But, there was no fighting to be done. At least not at the moment. Tyr sighed, a little frustrated. It was obvious the man..Killian..liked to talk. And, Tyr had begun to wonder, if perhaps the man was buying him drink just so he had someone to be an audience. Perhaps there was no point to this conversation after all.

One large finger tapped the table impatiently. "So now I know from whence you came, and you know the same of me. The bush is bare, beaten to death by your chatter. Speak your mind, if you would. I'd rather not grow old and frail waiting for you to enlighten me as to the purpose of your presence at my table. "
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Old September 13, 2018, 10:08 PM   #11 (permalink)
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Killian arched a brow at the lad with a smirk as he witnessed Tyr’s boiling point. Men like Tyr are easy to read: short tempered and can barely see beyond their own noses. Tyr has told the Sellsword all he needed to know By his actions.. While Tyr played the short game that would surely lead to his demise by someone of the Sellsword’s ilk he may come to some use someday. Yet, today does not seem to be that day.

Killian slowly rises up to his feet, using his large right hand to grab the top of the Stein by its’ large mouth.

”Clearly you have more important things to do with your time than entertain yourself by watching others live their lives while you scrape your nails upon the sinews of your pouch.” Killian sends a salute in the man’s direction before taking a few steps back. ”The Queen Cletoria.”

He shrugs with a grin before giving the man his back with a laugh. He throws an arm around the neck of one of his crew mates and gestures out the window towards the sea before glancing back over his shoulder speaking to Tyr with no true look toward him. ”Arkdün Docks.” With those words he throws his arms in to the air as he approaches the bar and is greeting by his belligerently drunk crew mates.
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Old September 13, 2018, 11:26 PM   #12 (permalink)
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If Tyr had been blessed by the gods with the ability to read others minds, he would have had a great laugh at the sellswords judgment of his character. No, impatience did not equal short-tempered. And, the Vagaran's vision extended farther than the Farstrider could imagine. Not that Tyr would have cared one way or the other what the man thought of him. If anything, it would give him the advantage.

Tyr leaned back in his chair once more, fingers lacing behind his head as he watched, without care, Killian stand. The man was the type who talked much but said nothing. The young adventurer wondered if that was a quality common to all civilized folk. In his homeland, if you couldn't speak plainly and with purpose, you did not speak at all.

Farstrider left with a verbal jab, the only effect being a gleam of amusement in Tyr's eyes as he watched Killian return to his mates, the name of a ship, Tyr assumed, passing the sellsword's lips, followed by a location.

Tyr shook his head at the ways of these folk, south of his homeland. Would he accept Killian's subtle invitation? Maybe. Maybe not. He was out of coin and out of drink and out of patience with the crowded tavern. Snatching up his axe, he made his way to the door and out into the darkening.
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Old Yesterday, 01:29 PM   #13 (permalink)
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Killian , from the bar front, glances over his shoulder to watch the man walk out of the pub. A soft "Heh..." escapes his lips with a shake of his head as he watches the man walk out of the establishment. He could never understand how any man worth his salt could deny their own self-worth so much that they would cower from an adventure.

His attention then falls back on to his crewmates, gesturing with a hand for them to follow. "Alright, you bunch of bellowing Seahags!" the group of men cheer and toss their tankards high up in the air to the slight by their Quarter Master. "Make merry as you may this eve' , for tomorrow morning at dusk we set sail with or without you...and your cut." He raises and lowers his eyebrows in a taunting fashion as the men all laugh and nod. Several "Aye Sir!" and "Yes'sir!!!"'s are heard about before Killian send them a salute and grabs one of the tankards off of the bar. "This one is for the road." , his deep voice echoes the hall as he states such before his exit, chuckling and making his way back to the docks where his ship lay birth.
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