Back into Town Briefly [Open, Attn: Mobeus, Derya]

Status
Not open for further replies.
A chortle accompanied the shrug that the man lined in furs gave the comment. At the same time dropping his staff to the ground before exclaiming, "Really you get what you see, I'm a northerner with a penchant for trophies and martial prowess. The only thing you wouldn't be able to see is that I'm currently awaiting the Fatespinner to be allowed into the weavers while I combat the necromancy that seems to be plaguing this land. Thanks to Derya here everyone just calls me Crow." Moving his staff effortlessly to his other hand the barbarian offers his hand in a shake as he glances to the elf.

"Fancy a drink then Derya? We can have proper introductions over a horn or two of ale eh?" Offering the brightly dressed woman a toothy grin.
 
"When do I not fancy a drink? Quill and I were just heading that way." Derya's smile was broad and bright and she hooked an arm from each man as she began to try to lead them to the tavern. She jingled with every step and her head was held high as she walked between the two men, obviously thinking highly of her situation.
"Introductions, stories, ale and rum. And excellent company, both of whom will promise not to say anything unkind about this poor Elven flower. Delicate as she is."
 
He took up the man's hand across from Derya to shake briefly before she wrapped about between them to wander as a trio to the tavern. "Well I will be curious if Quill actually does take hold as a nickname for a few." His eyes glanced sideways slyly to Crow as Derya spoke of her fragile self, then smirked and gave a soft shrug. "Well let's be seein' the inside of the place first. Never know what's inside these days." With a hand outstretched he pushed in his own door and walked on in.
 
Opening and holding the door for the other two to clamber through Crow continued, "I can hold my tongue, depending on how much of that tab you plan to pay me in ale currently."

Chortling to himself as he found his way to a table, Crow noticed the lighting slightly dimmed from the last time he'd been in. "Hmm. Spirits are weaker today it would seem." Taking a moment to sniff at the table they were sitting, Crow considered his companions for a moment before asking, "Why is it you think Parson's Breach see's so much trouble? It is rather unusual how much concentrated gnoll dung this town seems to have to deal with."
 
Derya grinned faintly. "Maybe it's because they hit everything they see."
The young woman pulled away from the men, walking up to the bar keep and placing an order for all three. When the drinks were brought, she scooped them up and brought them back to the table, doling them out accordingly before taking a large swig of her rum. She sighed softly, a content look on her face before she continued hre thought.
"I've actually wondered that myself on more than one occasion."
Taking another swig, Derya flipped a chair around backward before sitting on it, her arms crossed along the back of it. "There's a bit of a dour and dire feel to the town, that's for sure."
 
"Gnoll....what? Does that explain that faint scent on the air outside?I thought it was just a unburied corpse." Garnett mused it briefly before shrugging. "One distinct source is where ever this sword blade everyone and their aunt is looking for. Also it seems to be a cesspool of violence, and that seems to naturally attract all sorts of belligerence." He shifted his book around, flicking past the pages of the written dialects before looking to his lymrics and other stories. "I have had a bit more time for writing at least when I'm not cutting stone."









((Your sprites be le awesome!))
 
Shifting in his seat uncomfortably, Crow seemed to mull over a thought for a long few moments taking a draught of his ale before exclaiming, "This sword worries me, as it's been explained to me your king seeks the blade to use it's power to control, apparently he does this in preperation for a coming war." The portly man scoffs, "I've yet to see a magical blade bring any good to anyone, from what I understand it's already garnered the attention of a powerful necromancer," he pauses to spit on the dusty floor beside the table, "that alone should tell you all you need to know of this blade."

"Power attracts power my friends, I myself was drawn to this place from recurring dreams that I have had. I see why now as I have had to combat the undead and minions of this necromancer since the day I arrived. This blade will bring nothing but bad mojo to this town, past what it already has. None of the spirits magic would possess a blade to control, the very symbolism of this thing detests me. It's an object which has only the use to destroy, being imbued with a magical power to control what it wishes? It has the stink of Celestial magicks," once more turning to spit onto the floor, "and is finding attention from kings and necromancers. Personally I will be doing everything I can within the weavers to assure that we find and destroy this blade, before it can further infect this land."
 
Derya cast a quick look about, taking note of any who might be within ear shot. She leaned then, over her drink. "I agree. There's something off about this blade. As fond as I am becoming of the people here, should the whispers be true, should your King seek to control the other races, the other peoples, I will have no choice. I will return home and fight alongside my people and beg the winds to never have to see a friendly face across the battlefield." She sighed softly. "I may have wandered far from home but I am still Valdenhold. We have our ways and I am fond of those ways. No one man can tell so big a world what they all can and cannot do. The idea of a monarchy is so foreign to me to begin with, but the idea that he should wish to expand so greatly.."

Derya leaned back on her chair grimacing over her drink. "By the tides, I hope those whispers were false."
 
Garnett coughed a bit delicately as Crow spat on the floor, but said nothing about his own abilities for the moment. With a small shift in weight he reached from behin him to clasp the book found there and popping it open, pen working away idly by itself and drink next to him. After taking a few swigs, he looked to them both. "The said voice you have been hearing is Kara Veil, a woman whose abilities and intent was destruction of the northeast of the country via routes of the undead and fae, sometimes a corrupted version of the two." He murmured to them both. "Though as much as it may stink of magic it may not be even Celestial in origin good Krow, for the realm of these sort of tools and weapons steps beyond much that could be done I think of mortal hands." He looked to Derya, then Krow. "I suspect there are other who empathize with those feelings about the blade, even as they are sought out to go find it. If things come to pass it ends up in the wrong or right hands, depending on the person, it would be destroyed freely to never open such possibilities. It is a suspicion of course, I stick to my own coin and simple magic aspirations to be content. Though I suspect if you find a Monarchy a strange thing, you would have found Imperial Rule more so haha."

He cocked his head slightly. "Though is it not the same as a captain and owner of a ship? If he's unpopular you make a motion to throw him overboard, but otherwise he's the ruler of things. I'll admit there's a partial more freedom and likely general respect aboard a vessel, but the concept can and does fit."
 
"In my home a man is only worth the honor he retains of himself. Simple rules, protect yourself, protect your family. This king is not part of my family, nor have I seen anything to make him worthy of the honor he seems afforded. I've said before I will kneel to this man as your laws say, however it perplexes me that you let a man rule you for no other reason then you think his blood is some holy grail. The only thing I've heard of him thus far is that he's trying to take something from the earth spirits for no other reason then control." Crow finishes his bold statement by taking out his horn and downing some of his own ale before continuing, "you seem nervous around me Garnett, I'm supposing you're a parlor magician?"
 
[Derya posts after, quick reply]

"It is not my laws goodman, for I am foreign as you are. I have sworn to follow them for the sake of survival, and for the base that my homeland is no more. In many senses of those words from this culture." He sighed briefly, then quirked a wry smile as he glanced behind him and measured the three swords he had. "Much of what I value in combat comes more from these if anything, the celestial magic is something I learn in retrospect. It has been more then useful at times for saving the lives of others, and my own philosophy on how to use it does differ some from this realm. By that purpose where I come from learning of both schools is encouraged, but here it is illegal, so I have to make use via other means to have the Earth assist me and others." His head cocked to the side.

"I know I'll likely get judged of my magic by almost any Clansman or Northern folk I meet, but it is no charlatan's trick that keeps me alive every day in this place."
 
Derya scoffed. "If you think a Captain rules in peace and quiet and absolutes, you have not spent enough time aboard a ship, Quill. It is like any good relationship. Solidarity and loyalty all unwavering to the public eye, but many a night is spent in arguments and debates behind closed doors and in tight quarters. Are there ranks? Yes, for organization, to accomplish things, but we all have a say should we wish it."

She leaned back, sipping her drink and listening to the two men discuss magic. Her lips pressed tightly together. It was not a thing she'd admit, but magic of any sort left her feeling slightly uncomfortable and it showed in tiny hints along the set of her jaw, the look in her eyes. She cast a glance about the room once more, her painted eyes narrowing as she examined her own thoughts. After a moment she asked "So, if one were to theoretically join the blue-coats just so one could go into town and make good a promise a man made to one while under the intoxicating influence of what we can only assume was infatuation by one's stunning amazingness...could one then quit without penalty once the task was done?"
 
Still looking to Garnett, Crow retorted, "I can imagine that your own merit's have kept you alive thus far, any citizen of the Breach is welcome to that claim. However you are judged, not so much on the abomination you practice, but moreso the company you keep. Being Derya's friend makes you suspect to me, though currently I harbor no ill will toward you currently. I will simply judge you further when I see you in combat." To this the rough man offers Garnett a wink and mock toast of his ale.

He then turns to Derya, mulling the ale around in his mouth as he contemplates a response, "Your ships sound like our families. As well have you seen the leash they've put on my kin in the Homeguard, I almost felt bad for her watching her have to complete laps around the commons. I don't think you would be able to handle that kind of breaking, you'd end up a pregnant sow for some Sergeant rather than sailing the high seas and robbing from the men you lie with."
 
Garnett simply leaned back in his chair, considering it. "Quiet and absolute? There's a war brewing on the northern frontier, he's been almost assassinated by Undead, his relative was in that matter, and has been kidnapped by Fae. His work in the palace is balancing the other lesser 'captains' of his fleet, the nobility, from taking his throne and causing chaos in the land for the shuffle of power. Finally he makes an effort to be on the frontlines as much as is feasible; while I may disagree with his methods and political disdain, he has proven his tact (forgiving his need for formality.)" Captains work on a merit of talent or coin, if you are lucky both, but I speak not ignorantly of captains Derya, for not every ship is harmonious nor balanced as you say. Truly, some run their men much akin to slave work for high profit and change crews almost as many times as ports of call."

As Krow spoke Garnett gave a brief wry smile, nodding."If you say as it is. My memories have taught me much in the value of both realms of magic, but as you say let us know one another better in the days ahead." He gave a light roll of the shoulder, considering Derya's question. "For the moment I would have to say no. Simply quitting after taking those oaths I see you having a bit of a black stain in the public eye to the authorities unless say you put that as a condition to your recruitment. An Auxiliary if I was home would be what that was called."
 
Derya gave Garnett a haughty look, her dark eyes flashing. She stood up slowly, tossing back her drink in one swift go. She slammed the cup back down, pausing a moment. "I seem to have a need to be on my way. Quill, if you're still interested in selling me that sword, leave me a price before you leave and we'll trade."

She gave a slight nod as if that was enough farewell before turning on her heel and marching, as much as a jingling hip-sway could be a march, out of the tavern.
 
"Best not to tell a sailor how to sail friend," Crow said quietly to Garnett, watching Derya head out of the tavern. "I've no ill will towards this king, and do not take offense but tails of honor are different then earning honor itself."
 
He winced at her departure, but he nodded. "The same sort of thought occured as she bore that hole through me with her pin-pointed fury. I spoke from experience of merchantmen, Valenhold sailors are a unique faction really, and ones that are very free spirited. I'm still getting used to how they fare on the waves and I will apologize later when I give her these," He gestured at the book. "I am schooled in the disciplines for an Imperial nature, which yet demands further order of the world then this rough and young feeling kingdom." He rubbed his face. "Fair enough to each their own. You take what you can experience only then?"
 
Status
Not open for further replies.
Back
Top