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Post by Deleted on Jan 5, 2014 4:00:22 GMT
Sayer strode into his home village, a hood over his face. Underneath his cloak his face was grim. It had been eight years since he had visited his home, a village known as Odin's Ford. It hadn't changed much since his exile, though it had grown slightly larger. As he walked past the buildings on main street, memories flashed through his head, not many of them good. This village never made me happy. Sayer would have never come back here, except that he desperately needed supplies, and this had been the safest village to go to. His home village was reputed to be one of the safer villages to live in, and Sayer had no desire to be woken by a marauding Titanothain. So Sayer had set his course to Odin's Ford, hoping beyond hope that he would not be recognized. Though he had not been to this village or the local area for eight years, he had no doubt that he was still remembered. I'm probably used to frighten small children in this village into behaving. Don't be bad, or Sayer will get you. He smiled grimly at the thought.
Sayer remembered the trial like it was yesterday. He hadn't a chance of getting away with it, and he knew it. They found him with the knife still bloody in his hand, sobbing over the bodies as the magnitude of his actions struck him. He would have welcomed death as his punishment, but the Drakonhedi had given him worse than death: Having to wander the world, reliant upon the charity of strangers for food and shelter. After pronouncing his punishment, the Drakonhedi had let him go, and Sayer had begun to wander Soon after he was released, Sayer, filled with grief, had attempted to stab himself in order to end his life. However, the knife hadn't even cut the skin. Every attempt Sayer made to kill himself failed. Soon after his 5th attempt, a horrible realization had dawned on him: His curse prevented him from ending his life prematurely, forcing him to live out his life, burdened with his grief. After he came to this realization, Sayer took his still bloody knife and made an oath to one day find and kill those Drakonhedi responsible for cursing him.
Underneath his hood, Sayer scowled and pushed open the door to the village's only inn, the Prancing Wolf. Ignoring the curious glances from several tables, Sayer made his way over to a corner table and sat, his eye taking in every detail of the establishment.
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Post by Kerberos the Subversive on Jan 5, 2014 6:08:00 GMT
“Adjust trajectory.”
Eydís snorted as Kerberos repeated the instruction. She was moody today, though he could hardly blame her. He had woken her rather roughly from her slumber, and he continued to treat her in a manner some might consider abusive. His heels dug into her, even at rest, and every now and again he would kick out at her side. He could telepathically communicate with her, but that would be considerably less fun.
Well, less fun for him.
He’d heard tales of some village named Odin’s Ford. Supposedly, it was incredibly safe, despite being on land. He would have to see that for himself.
“Four kliks out,” Muninn said.
“Noted.”
Eydís took deep, rumbling breaths, her wings beating faster at the realization of resting soon. He could feel the rasping coming in time with each wing strike.
“Three kliks.”
He reached up a hand to wipe at his goggles, blinking rapidly. He could sort of see it through the haze of the lenses, though he made a mental note to get new ones at Midgardborg. None of this piddly, hand-me-down gear from the Drakonborg’s dusty closet, no siree.
Being undercover really didn’t have any perks. He could have chosen a multitude of disguises that could have earned him higher prestige, but that would have drawn too much attention. But anything less than Drakonrhedi, and there wouldn’t have been enough attention.
“Ah. You just want the attention,” Huginn said.
Kerberos just smiled.
A sigh that was more felt than anything. “Two kliks, by the way.”
Eydís began to slow. The shudders her body gave indicated he had pushed her perhaps a tad too far. Oh well. He commanded her to start a slow, but steady, descent.
“One klik.”
Wings went up, then out, curling to catch as much friction and drag as possible. Eydís and Kerberos were both drawn into an upright position, though while he was nearly standing in his saddle, she was more at an angle. Her wings slightly, slowly, flattened out, her body following vaguely in turn.
Finally at gliding speed, they circled around before landing in a clearing to the side of the village. Eydís landed with a thick bounce, galloping forward to keep from jarring completely. Kerberos let out a breath he hadn’t really been aware of holding. The thicker air near the ground, not to mention the slightly, oh so slightly, warmer temperature, filled his lungs with a strange sensation moving down his spine. He sat up, looking around as Eydís trotted about idly.
A gaggle of children watched from the nearby village entrance. They stared, wide-eyed, as Kerberos jumped from Eydís’ back, grinning as he pulled back his goggles onto the top of his head. “Hey,” he said, a purr rising up from his throat. “Do they know where the nearest gathering place is?”
They stared blankly, some with their mouths hanging open and some biting at their lips. Frowning, Kerberos pushed past them into the village proper. If there was anything for certain, it was that young human offspring were useless.
He wandered about what seemed to be the main street, for the most part ignored by most. His eyes scanned the signs, looking desperately for something that sort of looked like a place people went.
He wasn’t really sure why it caught his eye, but the old worn sign did regardless. A wolf and a stein were stenciled under words that once must have been ornate, but had been painted over so many times that the design was lost.
The real question he had was how the hell did a wolf prance? It didn’t matter. A stein meant booze, and booze meant people. Inebriated people. Even if it wasn’t educational, it would certainly be hilarious. He pushed open the door, ignoring the painful creaking noise it made.
The inside was perhaps a bit dingy, but then, he hadn’t been to many places that weren’t. Maybe dingy was the style? It did not matter, but it was definitely food for thought.
He made his way to the bar, ordered a rather bland drink, and eyed the other patrons out of the corner of his eye. Who to choose, who to choose? His eyes settled on a hooded man in the corner, who also seemed to be staking the joint, as it were. He ordered a second drink and made his way over, a slight bounce in his step.
He stood to the side of the table, his posture indicating confidence in the future exchange. “Must be lonely here in the corner, hm?” he asked, lips curled in a toothy grin. He held the mug out for the man to take, its contents sloshing about slightly. “Can’t imagine that it’s a barrel full of monkeys.”
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Post by Deleted on Jan 12, 2014 18:36:54 GMT
Sayer glanced up at the stranger as he spoke. Whoever he was, he was some kind of warrior, that much was clear from the bow strapped to his back and the armor he wore. The stranger’s eyes were unnatural looking, black on black, a color no normal human should have. Instinctively, Sayer gripped the handle of his knife as he sized the stranger up silently. He seemed like any other warrior, walking with a confident air that told the world he knows what he is doing, and isn’t just some farmer’s son who had decided to dress up.
It would be a tough battle, perhaps not one I could win. It would be best if we talked for now, until i can figure out exactly who he is. A thought crossed Sayer’s mind as he realized another possibility: He might not be just a common sellsword, he could be a Drakonhedi. Sayer struggled to keep his hatred and loathing from showing on his face.
If that is indeed the case, attacking him would be unwise that would bring down their wrath upon me, if I could even harm him. Sayer knew full well the power of the Drakonhedi. They were humanity’s protectors, revered by every little village boy across the world, and armed with magical powers. The last thing I want is more attention from them. But if this stranger is a Drakonhedi, why now? I’ve managed to go this long without a problem, without a word from those who have cursed me to make me the lowest of low.
Did they track me here, or is it coincidence? Are they checking up me now, after 8 years? I have done nothing, nothing they can prove, anyway. They have no reason to suspect me of anything. Besides, I’m not their problem now. The moment they let me go, they had no responsibility for my well-being. They already gave me the worst punishment possible, why torment me further? The Drakonhedi could have left to rot in peace in my own hell, which I live in every day with no escape.
Realizing the stranger was still sitting there waiting for his response; Sayer kicked himself mentally before responding.
"Perhaps I sit in this corner to be alone, without the company of these "drunken monkeys" while i attempt to enjoy my drink. Perhaps i prefer to simply watch the world sometimes instead of participating in it." Sayer kept his tone neutral.
He lapsed into silence again as he took the drink gingerly and carefully took a sip. Almost immediately, he spat it out. Bland, very bland. Not poisoned, but too bland to be enjoyed by anyone except the dullest and blandest of people. And this person is clearly not one of those people. He’s up to something, but what? Underneath his hood, Sayer scowled. "You can drop the false pretense. You are clearly trying to get me drunk if you give a drink this bland to me. No one actually enjoys this kind of bland ale, and only the poor and desperate would willingly drink it." Sayer's eye glinted dangerously beneath his cloak. "The question is, why give it to me? What is your purpose in coming here?"
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Post by Kerberos the Subversive on Jan 12, 2014 22:06:16 GMT
Kerberos raised a brow as the man said nothing, just silently staring at him. Eyeing him. Sizing him up. He must have used his hood as a defense against others realizing such a thing, but Kerberos was a master of ignoring things like defenses. So Kerberos could see there was the barest of movements on his face, so subtle the emotion behind them was lost. How interesting; an internal conflict! This was already worth the pain of using normal transportation.
His grin grew when the man finally responded. “Perhaps I sit in this corner to be alone, without the company of these ‘drunken monkeys’ while I attempt to enjoy my drink. Perhaps I prefer to simply watch the world sometimes instead of participating in it.” His voice was even, collected.
“He appears rather stoic, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Appearances can be deceiving, Kerberos. Keep up your guard.”
Even so, the man took the drink, and Kerberos took a seat as he sipped it. Almost as soon as he was comfortable, or as much as one could be on the rickety chair he happened to choose, the man spat out the ale. He watched the spray dissipate before looking to him, eyes lighting up with curiosity.
“You can drop the false pretense,” the man said, a scowl forming under his hood. “You are clearly trying to get me drunk if you give a drink this bland to me. No one actually enjoys this kind of bland ale, and only the poor and desperate would willingly drink it.” There was a change in the man, something that said his defenses were up in full force. How interesting indeed. “The question is, why give it to me? What is your purpose in coming here?”
“Ah, a suspicious man. This should be fun!”
“Be careful. Blowing your cover here could be dangerous.”
“Let’s get dangerous.”
“Kerb—”
“My purpose?” Kerberos repeated aloud, his grin unwavering and beginning to sink into his voice. “Well, if he wants me to be frank, I simply didn’t know his preference.” A tilt of the head, eyes flicking from the mug back to the man’s face. “This a bland town, wouldn’t he agree? A bland ale given to a mysterious man in a bland town.” An almost playful frown began to pull at his lips. “Ah, I see where I went wrong. Mysterious is intriguing, isn’t it? Maybe I should have gotten you something with a bit of kick, then.”
He leaned back, resting an ankle on a knee. A chuckle escaped his lips. “I was just trying to be friendly, see? Isn’t it custom to buy a man a drink before engaging him?” A thought visibly crossed his face, almost upset with himself, before he said, “Or perhaps that was for members of the opposite sex… Ah, K— I get these things mixed up a lot, that I do.” The grin took no time returning. “The question I have is, why come to a tavern if one does not expect to get drunk?”
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