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Post by Cedric Vyrrson on Feb 17, 2014 4:55:06 GMT
Despite his companions' apparent lack of experience with Cedric's preferred style of fighting, they made it out alive. And, surprisingly enough, in fairly good condition, with limbs and selves intact.
His companions broke into relieved laughter at their exit.
The disguised Vetr gave a slightly insane grin, teeth flashing in the lamplight, and dipped his torso into an overdramatic bow more at home in Shakespeare than the foggy streets of the Midgardborg. It was still raining, of course, but seemed to have calmed down slightly--reduced to only a pitter-patter of tiny droplets.
“You're someone... Someone ridiculous, you know that?” Anton seemed disbelieving.
Oh, my dear boy, if only you knew how ridiculous I am.
"I can't believe that really happened... That was...amazing." Athie's eyes were shining, if only from the adrenaline rush he'd probably just experienced.
The Tiro, however, soon turned suspicious. “Who are you, though? Clearly someone experienced with smokescreens, and someone who's quick to figure things out. If I hadn't known better, I would think that you're a Drakonrhedi, but I haven't seen you aboard the Drakonborg at all. I mean, I could have missed you, but I would think I would have at least seen the face somewhere...”
Smart lad. Good thing you're in the Drakonrhedi.
"I like to think I'm someone who keeps things interesting."
It was an annoyingly evasive answer, the type that Cedric specialized in.
However, both of his companions seemed on the verge of guessing at least parts of his identity. Stuttering questions from Athie had already produced a cheerful "whoops!" in his mind. He was on break, after all, he wasn't supposed to take this seriously, and had stopped the moment he attacked the first drunkard. A brief wave of amusement washed over Ced. Am I a what, Athie? Drakonrhedi? Nay, I have no magic to speak of. The Drakonrhedi would not let one with no magical skills into their ranks. I'm simply an informant, one who's used to running the streets and has more allies than you might think.
The lie was already prepped in his mind.
"Tsch, probably shouldn't of paid for that room."
Cedric chuckled. "Ehh, I'm certain you got your money back in excitement and injuries tonight."
Before he could speak much more, Anton turned to Athie. “And you? Are you all right? We should get going to the apothecary; I wouldn't want your wrist to get any worse. Plus it might dull the pain a bit...”
The Vetr turned away to glance down the streets, as if looking for any possible assailants or witnesses, but in actuality, he was attempting to hide a smile. That's the true duty of a Drakonrhedi, right there. Making sure that the people are safe. It gave him an odd sort of satisfaction to understand that there was someone, even someone as possibly odd or solitary as this Tiro, who would look after the people when Cedric could no longer fulfill that role.
It was a rare thing, for Ced to have hope for humanity, and doubtless it was about to be crushed.
"I'm fine. I'm better now. But- It still hurts. I don't know what I did to it."
The Vetr frowned. "We'd best move out, then."
"I suppose we should get going, yes? No point in sticking around here for someone to realize we're still here. Wouldn't be fun if we all had to run off, now would it? I'm assuming everyone here knows where the apothecary is, but if you don't, follow me.”
"Precisely so, Anton. Wouldn't want them coming after us. I might have to do something ridiculous again." He gave a joking smile with a quick wink.
"Right behind you."
Cedric nodded his agreement. "This way, correct? Been there a few times myself. Please, no one sprain a foot on our way. I wouldn't want to have to apothe-carry you."
He pulled up his hood and started off after the Tiro, as if completely immune to the fact that he'd just punned and that it was terrible, content to let the kid lead. Anton'd need this experience for later, anyways.
It didn't take them long to arrive--the apothecary wasn't far. The Battleboar Inn, true to its name, certainly gave them quite a bit of business every night. Cedric had instituted a couple Drakonrhedi under aliases there, just because of all the traffic it got and the flow of news from said traffic. I wonder if any of them are on duty tonight. Perhaps a chance to test out my codes with them, hmm?
The apothecary was based in a building on the side of the road, a sign labeling it as such in faded paints hanging from an iron bar above the door. There was a light glowing from inside, visible through the windows, where one could see a number of light-imbued bandages, herbs, and ointments.
Cedric glanced at the woman working the counter. Ahh, yes, one of my Drakonrhedi. The ends of his lips twitched upwards with a darker amusement.
Pushing open the door, Cedric was greeted by the pungent smell of herbs. He held the heavy slab of wood for both the Tiro and wounded Athie.
"Hullo!" came the cheery call of the woman. "I hope you three are all alright."
"Evening! Sorry about the wetness," he greeted with a chuckle, glancing at his cloak. He turned his glance to the rest of the room, glancing around.
"Ooh! Excellent selection of herbs. Might I ask how much of Emir's Thyme you have stocked?" It was all a pre-established code, of course.
The woman behind the counter glanced at the herb he was indicating. "A pound and a half," she answered, just according to script.
Excellent, she knows who I am.
He nodded eagerly. "Wonderful. Oh! I digress, though. Athie, mind showing her your wrist?"
| Tags: Athuraadd Fallonkreath, Anton NystromInspiration: Evidently, none. Notes: SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG AND IS SO BADDDDDD also i didn't check the length on this one so i'm sorry but it has a pun in it? |
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Post by Anton Nystrom on Feb 17, 2014 21:56:48 GMT
“I like to think I'm someone who keeps things interesting.”The answer was just as cryptic as Anton had expected, but it was frustrating nevertheless. This man could perhaps have magic, though there was very little evidence proving that. He was also certainly someone that dealt with things that were not exactly “proper”. No other reason to have combat skills like that and thing such as smokescreens on hand. He could be some type of an assassin, though there was nothing for him to gain from being so friendly with us. Alternatively, he could deal with information. There was so much that you could steal from a bar that it was quite a wonderful spot. That would also allow him to be put in the Drakonrhedi, as Anton was sure that they would have a few undercover agents in the city. The only thing not supporting this idea was the complete lack of magic that he had shown. However, it was supported by his superb combat skills and very curious way of dealing with things. He had to be trained in hand-to-hand combat by someone. At the end of the day, however, it was pointless to think about it. If he was trained well enough, there was no chance Anton would figure out who this man was. And he doubted that the Drakonrhedi would let people untrained into something as delicate as information gathering or similar. So, it was all pointless. It was frustrating as hell, but pointless. The things that were not pointless, however, were helping Athie to the apothecary. There would be something to help the pain, and if they were lucky, someone who be able to heal him. "This way, correct? Been there a few times myself. Please, no one sprain a foot on our way. I wouldn't want to have to apothe-carry you,” Alvis said. Anton looked behind himself to the man and shook his head, a glimmer of (fake) hatred in his eyes before a smile appeared on his face. The terrible pun was, as always, terrible, but it was also wonderful. Even if he didn't trust the man, he was glad he could at least joke around some. “I swear to the gods, Alvis,” Anton said, his head now on the road, “Make more puns and I might just make you carry me around.” The two were following closely behind him, and it felt odd for him to be in front. He was much more comfortable being led than leading, but Anton knew this wasn't the time to get queasy over something so silly. Leading should be something he gets used to. Soon, they were at the apothecary. Alvis had opened the door for both Anton and Athie, and he muttered a quiet murmur of thanks. The apothecary was a familiar place to Anton; the herbs that filled the place, the (generally) quiet and calm store, the magics that the more advanced apothecaries had – all of it was something Anton knew as a child. A small smile came to his face as he looked around the store, trying to remember it as he did when he was a child. “This place brings back a lot of memories,” was all the Tiro said before looking at the woman in the store. “ So, we just came from the Battleboar Inn! Have someone with a bit of a sprained wrist, this fellow right next to me.” He gestured to Athie, to clarify that he was referring to Athie and not Alvis, who was not here to be treated. The mention of Emir's Thyme was curious to Anton. He had very little knowledge of herbs and the like, and he was so fascinated by new things. “What is Emir's Thyme – if you don't mind me asking? And what do you need it for?” The question was directed towards Alvis, but either he or the apothecary who answered. If he managed to get a clear response from Alvis, then he would take it as a great victory. Any type of clear response from that mange had to be praised as a victory of the gods. He turned to the apothecary as well, a question already in sight for her. “And, if you don't mind me asking, of course, how exactly do you treat a sprained wrist? You can obviously just let it heal, but is there anything special you do?”Notes: wow talk about bad posts HERE HAVE ANTON LOVING CED'S PUNS
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Post by Athuraadd Fallonkreath on Feb 17, 2014 23:41:53 GMT
"Ehh, I'm certain you got your money back in excitement and injuries tonight."
Athuraadd gave a scoffing grin, "Rather peculiar currency right there, Alvis. Remind me to never borrow money from you." A little part of him was sore that some of his coinage had gone to waste, but he had only himself to blame for that. Still, the more he thought about it, this was much more exciting than simply retiring to bed. This was an adventure with two very bizarre, but very interesting men. Athuraadd felt rather in good company.
"This way, correct? Been there a few times myself. Please, no one sprain a foot on our way. I wouldn't want to have to apothe-carry you."
As always, it took a moment or two for Athie to process the joke. He frowned, stopped in mid-tracks, then broke out into a wide beam. "That's awful," he laughed, keeping up with briskly with his pace, "Don't quit your day job." His mind raced back to the subject of who Alvis actually was. Capable of magic, Athuraadd was sure of it. And in his experience, startouched folk were usually Drakonrhedi. Especially ones so skilled in fighting as well. He looked up, puzzled like a school-child at Alvis, "Speaking of which...what do you do?" He shot a glance at Anton, "Same goes to you too." It wasn't said threateningly or accusingly, Athie was genuinely curious. Directing his address back to Alvis, he added "You asked me what I was. I said a traveler. Now it's your turn." For Athuraadd, this was pleasant conversation, it didn't feel invasive to him. For pity's sake, they'd both freely used an impressive amount of magic in front of him, there was no way they didn't expect him not to ask questions, surely. He bit his lip and squeaked out, "I don't mind, whatever you do, by the way. I know I'm not incredibly bright but...I don't judge, y'know."
It wasn't long before they reached the apothecary, and Athie prayed that their arrival wouldn't distract his two new companions from answering his questions. He flashed Alvis a bright grin in thanks as the other man held the door open for him and Anton and scampered inside. The woman behind the counter gave them a friendly greeting, but Athie found himself enchanted with the vast array of bottles, pots and boxes full of strange elixirs and medicines for - Athie assumed - pretty much anything. He crossed over to a nearby shelf and peered at the row of potions that glistened in the light of the candles. He tapped a couple of them, childish curiosity taking over. Rather forgetting his manners, he picked up a bottle, uncorked the top with a loud 'Pop!' and lowered his nose to the brim. He took a deep inhale, immediately scrunched his nose and gave a flustered cough.
“So, we just came from the Battleboar Inn! Have someone with a bit of a sprained wrist, this fellow right next to me.”
Athie looked up suddenly at the address, remember his manners and fastened the cork back on the bottle, before popping it back on the shelf. He gave a little sheepish wave with his non-injured hand, "Hello." he chimed politely, "Sorry, I just kind of...." He look down at his wrist, embarrassed, "...fell on it." The woman raised an all-knowing eyebrow at him, "Get in a little bit of a scrap, did you?" Quickly and with his mouth hanging open, slightly shocked at the accusation, Athuraadd shook his head. Paused, pondered for a moment, then nodded slowly. "Well," he began, "I wasn't really fighting..." He looked over at Alvis, and then at Anton, "I mean...I was there... It was those two really," Athie gave a smile of admiration, "They kicked arse."
"Athie, mind showing her your wrist?"
Thankful to Alvis for moving the conversation along, Athuraadd jostled over to the counter. He lifted his wrist up to show the woman, who took it gently, before Athuraadd still gave a tiny wince out of instinct. She looked up at Athie briefly, "Tell me where it hurts." she informed him, and Athie nodded, dreading the imminent examination. She prodded once - Athie stayed silent. She prodded again - again, Athie was silence. The third prod, however, earned a loud yelp and a slight sniffle. "There." he whimpered.
The woman gave a tut, "Well, it's definitely a sprain." she noted, tilting Athie's wrist slightly.
“And, if you don't mind me asking, of course, how exactly do you treat a sprained wrist? You can obviously just let it heal, but is there anything special you do?”
Athie was interested to know the answer to.
Please don't be an injection please don't be an injection.
The woman sucked in a deep breath, "Well, yes, being gentle to it certainly helps. Certainly no more bar fights."
Athie gave an indignant sniff, wondering what exactly about him screamed 'legendary bar-fighter' to this woman. On second thoughts, she was probably being sarcastic.
"However, I do have something to numb the pain. It's not nice though."
Athie watched her, fearfully, as she let go of his wrist, ducked down behind the counter and produced a bottle of liquid and a spoon. She uncorked the bottle and poured out a teaspoon of green, oozing liquid. Athie gave a gulp. "Two of these." she stated, matter-of-factly, "And then I'm bandaging that thing up."
Athuraadd could smell the liquid from where he was. His nose scrunched up, "Can't we just skip the part where I gulp down green ooze and go straight to the bandaging part instead?"
The look the woman shot him said that they weren't going to skip anything.
Notes: Cedric Vyrrson, Anton Nystrom Tags: it's so bad it's so bad oh god oh god oh god Also, I assume we could all take control of the apothecary, if not sweet jesus I am so sorry
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Post by Cedric Vyrrson on Feb 18, 2014 23:34:09 GMT
"Don't quit your day job. Speaking of... what do you do?"
Cedric chuckled. Count on Athie to spring the question!
"I don't mind, whatever you do, by the way. I know I'm not incredibly bright but...I don't judge, y'know."
I wouldn't expect you to judge. You seem like a remarkably easygoing lad.
"Actually, I have a great job. Get this: I sit around in bars and bother innocent persons with puns and Shakespeare." He grinned widely. "You're the latest in a train of victims longer than the Midgardborg is tall. I'll let Anton answer that question on his own, although I'm fairly certain I know his profession already."
That was about all he was going to say on the subject for now. Perhaps, someday, Athie. Maybe on the off chance that we encounter each other when I'm not disguised, I'll reveal myself in a most dramatic and amusing manner. The poor souls who encountered the Vetr twice were either doubly enchanted with him or doubly annoyed. Or, occasionally, doubly out to kill him. Those were always interesting.
Once they were in the apothecary, he had other questions to answer, however.
“What is Emir's Thyme – if you don't mind me asking? And what do you need it for?”
Ced glanced up at the plant and drew a deep breath.. "Well. Emir's Thyme, in accordance with being in existence in this screwed-up world, isn't technically thyme. It's called that because of its similarity in scent, and the dolt who discovered it. Instead, it's related to nightshade, which you may know as your friendly poster child for poisonous plants with ominous names. In low doses, Emir's Thyme is has a dulling effect on pain, but in larger quantities it shuts down your nervous system leading to muscle convulsions, paralysis, and then you die."
He brought his rather rambling sermon to an abrupt halt to emphasize the fact that 'you die,' closely followed by a bright, cheery smile.
This was closely followed by another question from the Tiro. Ahh, a more inquisitive side showing itself! Most wondrous. I'm beginning to feel affection towards you, my darling Anton. Cedric's thoughts, although rather creepy, were intended as a hyperbole-laden satire born from his own mischievous joy. It was a sort of impish, gleeful commentary on life, simply because he was bored. Or, perhaps, it was because he was too obsessed with Shakespeare. That was a definite possibility.
“And, if you don't mind me asking, of course, how exactly do you treat a sprained wrist? You can obviously just let it heal, but is there anything special you do?”
Cedric kept his mouth shut on this one. He was fairly certain about the answer, having sprained some things himself, but was not nearly as knowledgeable about it as in poisons and toxins.
"Well, yes, being gentle to it certainly helps. Certainly no more bar fights. However, I do have something to numb the pain. It's not nice though."
The goop that the woman drew forth was familiar to the Vetr. He'd had to take it on several occasions, and stifled the bile rising in his throat, simply grimacing instead. Recovering himself quickly, he put on a brave face. Anything to make Athie feel better, after all.
"Two of these. And then I'm bandaging that thing up."
Cedric repressed a hiss of pity, instead slowly bobbing his head up and down. His own memories of the substance flashed in front of his eyes, like traumatizing scenes from a Nicholas Cage movie a battle.
"Can't we just skip the part where I gulp down green ooze and go straight to the bandaging part instead?"
The Vetr grinned, looking only slightly queasy at the sight of the mysterious painkiller. "You'll be fine! Just swallow quickly. Very quickly."
The apothecary shot him a glare, showing that she was not pleased with his last statement. Ced sent her back a bright, cheery smile.
Unlike Athie's smiles, which were born from authentic joy at the world or admiration for the people around him, Ced's grins rarely connotated happiness. Instead, his were used in a sarcastic or satirical manner, despite, or often in spite of, other peoples' annoyance at his continued presence and mannerisms. Occasionally, they expressed the impishness that drove the Vetr's continued ridiculousness, but they were mostly faked--especially if he was doing business in a disguise.
"Once we're done here, we should probably find you somewhere else to hole up for the night, eh, Athie? I don't think any of us three are particularly popular in that bar right now."
The apothecary glanced up at him from where she was grabbing bandages. "Do I want to know?"
The Vetr grinned. "I don't know. That's a question you'd have to answer."
With that, he began to poke around the shop again, glancing at labels. He recognized a few from the times he'd been treated, but the ones that stood out to him were the ones also capable of killing a person. It was fascinating, how something usually considered so helpful could kill. Perhaps I should extrapolate that out as a metaphor to life. He paused in front of a familiar plant, then shook his head. Nah. Too much effort required.
However, he could be of some use in answering questions.
"Anything else you'd like to know about, Anton?" he inquired from where he crouched to pick out a particular medicine. "Ahh, my old friend," he murmured beneath his breath. That same plant could be derived to make a poison capable of killing someone. Then, louder, "You might as well ask while we're here."
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Post by Anton Nystrom on Feb 21, 2014 8:39:34 GMT
Alvis's job seemed like less of a job and more of a joke of a life. And for someone so trained, Anton got the feeling that it was exactly his job. The questions forced Anton to go into that place in his mind where he could think and ignore the violent tendencies of the world around him, but his recession was interrupted by the realization that Athie had a question not just for Alvis, but also for Anton.
What did he do? It was being a Drakonrhedi, yes, but it was mostly training at this point. There was a distinct lack of mythical quests and legions of behemoths slain by his hands. Of course, being simply a Tiro, he had no drake. And that left him in quite a rough position, as a simple raven couldn't take on a beast.
"Me? I'm a Drakonrhedi," he said with a smile. A faked smile, but a smile nonetheless. Drakonrhedi was a title in this world, but it was a title he had yet to earn. In his mind, at least. His magic was still so hard for him to control, try as he might, and that was the point of his entire life (at this point, at least).
He tried his best not to dwell on it.
As Athie was being treated, he saw the goopy liquid that was was all too familiar. He knew of that particular pain medication, and he hated it just as much as the next injured person. It was a sickening globule of supposed pain medication, but at the end of the day, anyone would most likely take the pain than the feeling of that sliding down there throat. The thought itself gave Anton the chills.
That goopy liquid had saved his life, though, so he supposed he shouldn't hate it too much. It was a liquid that he despised taking, and so many apothecaries forced him to drink it for the smallest things. It was ridiculous, and he was surprised that no one had found a better way to administer it. That person would be rich. Quite rich.
Or perhaps that was simply the joyful innocence and ignorance of Anton speaking. It may be disgusting to administer, but the pain medication also helped the body with any infection that could occur, as well as have some relaxation effects. It was almost always safe to take, and could be given to someone who was unconscious or similar. That liquid was a lifesaver, and many who adored it for its lifesaving potential also hated it for its disgusting qualities.
It a roundabout way, it reminded Anton of being a soldier. This had given him the opportunity to perfect his magic, to become the person he desired to be. He could have an understanding of the world that would be impossible otherwise, but with that came knowledge that was painful to know.
He was going to die.
He knew that, of course. It was something that everyone knew, somewhere in their minds. But so many were able to escape its relentless reality by minding themselves with meaningless duties everyday, whether it was protecting a city that floated in the sky, as his family did, or drinking with friends, as the men in the bar. Anton did not have that luxury. His life could be cut short so easily, and his chances of such a thing were remarkably higher than anyone else. It was sickening, of sorts, to think about, but it let Anton remind himself that there was no point wasting time if there was time to be used.
Philosophical rants were something that Anton claimed to hate, but in reality, he simply hated the fact that he couldn't control them. In the end, he would always be at the mercy of his life and his desires, and he was never able to change that. He was a slave to his body, and that tortured him. Mind games were no better, as his mind was sharp, but not quite that sharp. As for magic, it was a tentative escape, but its elusive mastery proved to be a distraction. A distraction that Anton needed.
A distant voice called from somewhere -- Alvis's, it seemed, but Anton paid it no mind. He muttered a type of grunt, indicating a no, finally able to see some sort of a break and wrestle with the questions that this Alvis man had forced upon him. Then again, if he could find out more of Alvis, there was something to be said for mindlessly thinking when you could be doing, wasn't there?
Anton decided eventually and turned to face Alvis. Instead of asking the questions, he decided to try a different approach: see if he would simply tell the answers. It was a long shot, but it was something to do, wasn't it?
"Any particular plant you're fond of here?" Anton asked curiously -- the part of him that was listening heard Alvis murmur something towards a handful of plants. "And any particular plant I should be fond of here?"
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Post by Athuraadd Fallonkreath on Feb 21, 2014 13:41:30 GMT
"Actually, I have a great job. Get this: I sit around in bars and bother innocent persons with puns and Shakespeare. You're the latest in a train of victims longer than the Midgardborg is tall. I'll let Anton answer that question on his own, although I'm fairly certain I know his profession already."
Athie grinned; he knew Alvis was tip-toeing around the question, but Athie enjoyed company who kept good humour in their hearts. Besides, he genuinely trusted Alvis, the secrecy didn't bother him much. Both he and Anton were kind-hearted and fun to be around, what was not to like? Deciding it best to not pry into Alvis' work-life further, however, he resolved himself to joining in on the joke with haughty laugh, "You've really outdone yourself tonight then, Alvis. I see a promotion on the horizon." He raised an eyebrow, smile fading into a small (and slightly sarcastic) grimace, "Word of advice, though? Those smokescreen things could do with a miss."
"Me? I'm a Drakonrhedi,"
Anton's words brought on a sudden surge of exultation for Athuraadd; no sooner had the words fallen from Anton's mouth he clenched his non-injured hand and made a sudden 'Score!' gesture. "Ha! I knew it!" he exclaimed, reveling in the feeling of - oh my god, actually being right for once. If Anton was Drakonrhedi, it was almost certain (in Athie's mind) that Alvis was too. "I knew you were both Drakonrhedi. You had to be!" He was like an excited child unwrapping a much sought-after present at Christmas, "When you were fighting back in the tavern and you," He looked at Anton, "-used those amazing light things and you," He looked back at Alvis, "-used that weird smoke stuff I thought that you just had to be Drakonrhedi." His excitement dulled a little when a thought occurred, "I didn't really want to say anything in case, well..." He trailed off.
Although he was initially excited to be in the friendly company of not one, but two Drakonrhedi, Athuraadd quickly felt a slight pang of inadequacy. He knew that most people were stronger or smarter than he was, and it never usually bothered him at all. It was just a simple fact of life. But the fact that he'd been drinking with two seemingly normal men who both turned out to be Drakonrhedi was a little...well, embarrassing for Athie. These were two heavily experience, heavily competent fighters having to put up with Athie's nonsense. It was a marvel they hadn't deserted him.
Then again, the more Athuraadd thought about it, the more relaxed his mind became. He'd always imagined the Drakonrhedi as distant, aloof warriors, far superior to a normal Viking like himself. But this night had revealed - among other things - that these two examples of the Drakonrhedi were normal (well, maybe not in Alvis' case, but he was nice, regardless) guys who enjoyed drinking and socializing, just like Athie did.
If they had chosen to look past the fact that Athuraadd wasn't a Drakonrhedi, then Athie was going to look past the fact that they were.
As Alvis was explaining something about a herb, Athie's mind was far more pre-occupied with the vile looking liquid the apothecary was pouring onto a spoon. Athuraadd knew a thing or two about bad odours (when you're learning to cook, you get a fair taste of bad whiffs) but this one certainly took the bad-odour-cake. "It stinks like..." he trailed off, nose wincing again as the woman held the spoon up to his face.
"Crap?" the woman offered. Athie nodded weakly.
"You'll be fine! Just swallow quickly. Very quickly."
Athie cast a helpless eye over to both his companions, noting the way Alvis had said the 'very quickly' part with a genuine grimace. Nervously, he looked back at the spoon that was still being dangled in front of his face. He knew it had to be done; the pain in his wrist was getting worst and at least with the gross looking concoction, it'd be over quickly. Drawing in a huge breath and clenching his nails into the woodwork on the counter, Athie opened his mouth, leaned in suddenly and took the entire bowl of the spoon into his mouth. He withdrew quickly and swallowed as fast as his could, trying desperately not to gag at the vile taste. "Oh my god..." he spluttered, tongue ejecting from his mouth in disgust. The woman was tutting softly.
"Come on now, no theatrics. Just one more." she stated, pouring another spoonful of liquid.
"Another one?!" Athie squeaked, almost forgetting about the taste completely in his shock, "Look, I'll be fine. It's...it's even starting to feel better!" he lied, "Yep. I definitely don't need another one. All it needs is a bandage and some rest, no more medicine, nope, none at-"
His protests were suddenly interrupted when the apothecary violently shoved the spoon back into his mouth. Athie let out an indignant 'Mmff!' noise as his mouth involuntarily clamped shut over the handle. He tried with all his might not to swallow the liquid but the force of the sudden intrusion caught him off guard and - out of instinct - the vile medicine slithered down his open throat.
As the woman retrieved the spoon from Athie's mouth and wiped off his slobber, Athuraadd slammed a clenched fist down onto the counter, the way one often does when they've swallowed something hard to digest and hitting something is the only way to overcome disgust. As the vile taste began to dull however, so did the pain in Athie's wrist, although it took him a moment to appreciate the medicine's immediate effects.
The apothecary whipped out a string of white cloth and took Athie's wrist to gently apply it to his injury. While she was doing so, he turned his head to look at Alvis and Anton, "Thanks for this," he smiled gently, "I don't know where I'd be without you two." It was a genuine smile of affection and appreciation, reserved for those who truly showed kindness to an otherwise simple-minded Viking.
Tags: Cedric Vyrrson, Anton NystromInspiration: the pleasant chirping of birds and also roadworks outside my window Notes: opal thanks to your Nicholas Cage line i can't stop picturing ced with nicholas cage's face ffs. also this post is soopa bad.
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Post by Cedric Vyrrson on Feb 22, 2014 1:06:27 GMT
"Ha! I knew it! I knew you were both Drakonrhedi. You had to be! When you were fighting back in the tavern and you used those amazing light things and you used that weird smoke stuff I thought that you just had to be Drakonrhedi. I didn't really want to say anything in case, well..."
Code Red!
Cedric laughed. "Drakonrhedi? You flatter me, truly. Honestly, though, I'm just a regular old person. Well, perhaps not exactly."
Perhaps someday you'll know the truth, my dear Athie. Oh, yes, I'll make sure to draw it out for you, so you can have the triumph of being right all along.
"I was taught how to fight by an old Pryfektus. He's the only reason I can hold my own the way I do. But magic? I can't use that to save my life. That was a perfectly regular smokescreen back there--a very excellently made one, though."
Lies, lies, lies! sing-songed a voice in the back of his head. It wasn't his conscience, however, oh no--it was a giggling little imp. All lies!
Cedric ignored it.
He did, however, have to be careful not to give any information away. He figured he was rather safe--his companions would probably be thankful simply for the fact that he hadn't given them a roundabout string of wit. Additionally, he'd just denied the charges levied against him and still given them a very minimal number of facts to lend credentials to his story.
Inside the apothecary, however, the Tiro had once again brought his questions out. Not that Ced minded, as he did enjoy his own curiosity and saw no reason to deprive others of that glee.
"Any particular plant you're fond of here? And any particular plant I should be fond of here?"
Cedric paused for a moment, brow creasing in thought. "Hmm. Well. Nearly all of these plants are noteworthy for some reason or another. It depends on what specific purpose. For healing? You'd probably best look to the painkillers or other cures. The apothecary'd be a better guide about that than I, though. There aren't many poisons in here, unless you know how to overdose or mix together different plants yourself." He paused, running a hand through his hair. "Not that it's not a useful skill, but... not many are alchemists as a hobby nowadays."
That was true--getting plants was sort of an issue with the behemoths constantly around. The Vetr was in several business contracts with a handful of alchemists (under different guises or his own) to provide him with whatever poisons or elixirs he needed in exchange for materials for their creations. As someone who could venture along the ground with comparatively little issues, any commodities from the land were valuable. And when
He'd found that another useful resource were village alchemists, healers, or herbalists. Although not nearly as good as some professors he'd encountered, they could still whip up a poison or painkiller, with a keen knowledge of the plants of the area. Their job of gathering was easier, but usually you'd have to barter with something different. It was all a matter of what you had to give, as in all things. City alchemists needed plants, and village alchemists needed food and supplies.
"Mmff!"
Cedric instinctively transferred his attention over to the flailing Athie, who had just had a large globule of goop rudely stuffed into his mouth. After another moment of spasms, which Ced responded to with a concerned look, he appeared to recover slightly, breathing no longer in gasps but much more regular pants.
The apothecary began to bandage him, wrapping it carefully in pristine white linen. Cedric had always felt bad about getting bandaged--he'd just get them dirty a few moments later, after all.
"Thanks for this. I don't know where I'd be without you two."
A grin curved Cedric's lips upwards, his teeth flashing. "Say thanks to the apothecary, she's the one who's patching you up."
He stood, coming over to lean against the counter and watch the process. "We should still get you a place to stay. I don't think that the folks at the Battleboar would take kindly to you being there, and neither do I think we could climb through the window with your sprained wrist, as enjoyable as that'd be on a normal day."
The Vetr took another moment for thought. Where could they get Athie safe and sound? He didn't want the kid out sleeping in the rain, as that would not work miracles on either his injured wrist or his spirit. Even one as bouncy and happy as this particular Armfastrung traveler could still get their outlook on life considerably dampened by a bad night.
Ced knew of many safehouses that he could get Athie into should worst come to worst, but he'd prefer not to use any of those, considering most of them infringed on or were in the middle of gang territory. Other contacts around the city could provide shelter--but they occasionally got odd clientele or spontaneous assassination attempts, neither of which would do for an esteemed guest.
There were, of course, the many other inns. Perhaps one with an especially homely feel? Cedric figured that Athie would be easily accepted by people not nearly as drunk and mob-minded as the folks back at the Battleboar.
"Hey, Anton," he spoke aloud. "You know if the Stepping Steed is still in business?"
It was a small, family-run inn that would hopefully be much friendlier towards Athie's rather bumbling, amicable nature than his experience earlier. Ced himself had not been there for a year or so--he'd accidentally brought some unwanted attention to the family, and had thought it best to pound the offenders into the ground before clearing off as to not damage the establishment.
That, and apparently one of the elder daughters was developing affections towards him, which he had not wanted to deal with or hurt the family through. However, since they knew him through a different alias, hopefully he'd be able to recreate some connection. Unbeknownst to the family (except for possibly the mother), he'd personally guarded their establishment and scared off a few troublemakers and one blackmailer. Just one of the services he provided to those who had been kind enough to help him in a time of need.
| Tags: Anton Nystrom, Athuraadd FallonkreathInspiration: linkNotes: I AM SORRY WE ARE ROLEPLAYING FROM TWO DISTINCT POINTS IN TIME but ced would not leave that unanswered, so i had to reply also hehehehe Lord of the Rings reference "stepping steed" "prancing pony" sorry for the weird backstory there. I needed some fluff. |
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Post by Anton Nystrom on Feb 22, 2014 8:02:04 GMT
The answer that Alvis gave to Athie's exclamation was different than almost all of the answers that he had given before. Where previously they were cryptic and rarely told much information before, this one answered quite a lot all in a rather small packet of information. He said he was trained by an old Pryfektus, but never gave a name. He had displayed no magic to Anton, but there was a curious way that he danced around things that he completely avoided here.
Does he not want to dance around the idea of him being a Drakonrhedi? That would be curious indeed, and could perhaps place him with two groups: the Drakonrhedi proper and someone trying to harm the Drakonrhedi.
Even in this day and age, every group had their supporters and haters. The Drakonrhedi was no exception. Some saw the magic that they excelled at to be heretical to the natural world and law, and others saw their magic as the blessings of gods. Both extremes were rare, however, and luckily most regarded them with a type of respect and fear that they deserved.
Of course, not all Drakonrhedi were good people. The organization did their best to only choose from the best, but occasionally those who were less than the best slipped through. It was rare enough, however, that most people didn't worry about it. Considering the age at which people were selected, they could easily be "changed" in their beliefs if they were not already justified heavily by their parents or similar.
But Alvis seemed not to be someone who directly would oppose the Drakonrhedi. Anton believed that Alvis was trained by a Pryfektus of some sort -- even if he was a Drakonrhedi, that was entirely plausible, and if he wasn't, it was as well. But the curiosity of who he was beyond that was agitating Anton. Was he a type of defected Drakonrhedi who now sells information and rarely uses magic? Or was he a Drakonrhedi in disguise, under the Stalkers?
Anton couldn't ask these questions directly, of course. He would have to wait it out and see if there were any answers to come. And there were a handful of answers that Anton could gather by being observant: if he saw this Alvis man again, it told him he existed, and if he didn't then it told him nothing (as he simply could be missing him); if he saw someone else who was acting similar to Alvis, he could be part of an organization or it could be a high-ranking Stalker (or multiple Stalkers who were simply patrolling Midgardborg). But there was only so much that observing could do.
The quiet hum of conversation filled the apothecary as Anton's thoughts continued. Alvis was answering his question about the plants when Anton realized something: there was something magical about this man. It had taken Anton a long time to figure it out, but it was there. There was an air of magic around the man -- almost filling him. It could be leftover from when a particularly powerful Startouched had used their magic on him, though Anton expected Alvis to be in significantly worse condition than that. It could also be a magical ward or cover applied over him.
These magical "wards" were somewhat common, from what Anton understood. They required quite a lot of concentration to keep up, but after a lot of practice, you could do it fairly easily. These wards could be anything from an illusion to something happening when someone struck you. The more powerful the ward was, the harder it was to keep up. Anton, himself, had practiced using these recently, but he could only keep a small ward up for a handful of seconds, and he was entirely defenseless while doing so.
Anton would have to keep these things in mind, if only to understand who this Alvis man truly was. Typically he would be less cautious of such a person, but the fighting skills he demonstrated showed a power beyond that which Anton would be able to fight. Anton could obviously use his magic, but he was still uncertain if Alvis had any. And if he did, it could almost certainly tip a fight in his favour. Fighting was definitely out.
The sound of conversation lulled Anton away from his thoughts, though it took longer than usual. He was certainly much deeper in thought than he had been for a while. He hadn't even noticed that Athie had finished getting his treatment, but there he was, a bandage around his wrist and a smile on his face. It was the type of smile that could wipe away someone's worries if all they were seeing was that smile. But for Anton, he was also seeing the root of his worries.
But enough worrying for now!
"Hey, Anton? Know if the Stepping Steed is still in business?" Alvis had asked him. It was a good inn to stick someone like Athie in, and Anton approved of his choosing.
"I believe it is! I was there last month, didn't really stay there, but grabbed a drink with an old friend, and they seemed to be doing all right. Just as quiet as ever, though." That was what that inn was best at, letting you enjoy a drink with a friend without having too many disturbances. The husband was also quite good finding good meats, so they always were serving one kind of meat or another. Meat was usually pretty expensive, all things considered.
"We might as well go check it out! Here, I'll show you goes," Anton said as he made his way out of the Apothecary's shop. He held the big door open for the other two men, trying to be polite, before directing them down the road.
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Post by Athuraadd Fallonkreath on Feb 22, 2014 16:53:32 GMT
"Drakonrhedi? You flatter me, truly. Honestly, though, I'm just a regular old person. Well, perhaps not exactly."
Athie rolled his eyes sarcastically, but kept his grin, "You are so not regular, Alvis." He gave a short burst of laughter, "Never change, will you? This has probably been the most interesting drinking session I've ever had." And it was true; of course in the clan, drinking was a common pastime - they were vikings after all, but Athuraadd had never experienced quite like the events of tonight. "We have to do this again, yeah? Except maybe we'll ease off on the drunken bar fights." He gave both his companions a playful nudge on the shoulder, "And next time, YOU guys are getting the drinks in."
"I was taught how to fight by an old Pryfektus. He's the only reason I can hold my own the way I do. But magic? I can't use that to save my life. That was a perfectly regular smokescreen back there--a very excellently made one, though."
Athie pursed his lips in thought, genuinely stumped (again) by Alvis' words. He had been so certain that the other man was a Drakonrhedi. Still, 1 out of 2 wasn't bad...for Athie. "Still, how you reclaimed by satchel back there..." Athie began, giving Alvis a perplexed look, "...how did you do that?"
As the apothecary was bandaging his arm, tightly pulling against the linen to make it hold firm against his skin, Athie cast an eye over to Anton, who seemed rather quiet (although that could've been because Alvis was explaining in detail about a particular plant). There was a reflective expression on his face, and he seemed lost in thought. Athuraadd usually admired such people; his own mind was easily distracted by the smallest of things and, as a natural fidget, moments of quiet contemplation were few and far between for the little viking. Athie was someone who lived in the moment.
"Say thanks to the apothecary, she's the one who's patching you up."
Athie gave a small "Oh!" as he remembered his manners and turned his head back to the woman, who was finishing the last few wraps around his wrist, "Thank you." he told her politely, using the sweetest smile he could muster. It was a smile his mother hated, but only because he used it get out of trouble or escape doing chores he detested at home. His father used to joke that if he couldn't escape a fight with his fists, he'd use his smile instead.
The apothecary gave him a soft look, "You're welcome. Now, don't do anything strenuous with that wrist, just be gentle to it. Which means wait a while before you go back into the boxing ring, alright?"
Athie gave a stupid grin, "Don't worry. I'll try not to." Hey, if you can't laugh at yourself, don't laugh at all.
"We should still get you a place to stay. I don't think that the folks at the Battleboar would take kindly to you being there, and neither do I think we could climb through the window with your sprained wrist, as enjoyable as that'd be on a normal day."
Athie felt his guilty conscience give him a mental nudge. He wished he could apologize to both men for putting a damper on their evening and making them go out of their way to help him, but he couldn't string together a sentence. It was a useless, pitiful feeling, and that made it even worse because Athie knew deep down he had to carry himself with the same amount of confidence that Alvis and Anton had. But with his wrist in a bandage, he felt even weaker.
Despite all this however, Athie knew Alvis was right about Battleboar. He gave a mental cringe at the thought of all those Vikings angrily lining up to punch his lights out. At the back of his head, he knew Alvis and Anton would be sticking around forever. Anton probably had some super important Drakonrhedi duties to attend to and Alvis- well, who knows what Alvis did, but they weren't going to be hanging around. Better to be in a safe location.
"Hey, Anton. You know if the Stepping Steed is still in business?"
"I believe it is! I was there last month, didn't really stay there, but grabbed a drink with an old friend, and they seemed to be doing all right. Just as quiet as ever, though."
The Stepping Steed rang a distant bell in Athie's head. His last visit to Midgardborg before tonight had been years ago. Very few qualities in his memory seemed vivid to him now. It could be that his family visited the establishment all that time ago, when Athie was barely higher than his Mother's hip, but Athie couldn't recall.
"We might as well go check it out! Here, I'll show you goes,"
As Athie turned to follow Anton and Alvis, a thought suddenly popped into his head. "Oh, hang on a second!" he called to Anton. Fumbling around in his pocket, Athuraaadd turned back to the apothecary, who gave him a bemused look. "Thank you again," he said hurriedly and pulled out a small handful of coins. The woman raised her hand up.
"No no, it's fine. It's on the house." she explained, trying to wave the coins back to Athie, but the Viking was having none of it.
"Please take them, I want you to." he insisted, near pleading. He dropped the coinage onto the counter with a clatter, when it was clear she wasn't going to take the money out of her own terms. Athie gave her a happy wave and quickly bumbled after his two companions, "Wait up!" he called out. Once he'd caught up with them, he wedged himself in between the two taller men. He felt a sudden burst of energy come over him, and was excited to discover the next location, "So this Stepping Steed then," he began, "Is it nice? No brawls, right?"
Tags:Anton Nystrom, Cedric VyrrsonInspiration: RUGBY PLAYING IN THE BACKGROUND WOOOO Notes: This post feels really short. I don't like it. ALSO YAY LORD OF THE RINGS NEAR-REFERENCES.
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Post by Cedric Vyrrson on Feb 23, 2014 20:12:51 GMT
"You are so not regular, Alvis. Never change, will you? This has probably been the most interesting drinking session I've ever had. We have to do this again, yeah? Except maybe we'll ease off on the drunken bar fights."
Cedric grinned, chuckling as Athie gave him a friendly poke. "I'll make sure to keep my wonderful self impeccable in the case that we encounter each other once more."
You have my promise for another round of drinks, Athie. It will be so enjoyable for little old me.
And now the Vetr was getting ahead of himself, wrapped up in all the anticipation! He must be careful yet.
"Still, how you reclaimed by satchel back there... how did you do that?"
Ced frowned, as if confused. "I didn't do that at all. I've got as little clue as you about who sent that our way."
Hah, more lies. Aren't you supposed to be on duty, Cedric?
The Vetr gave a small sigh. As loathe as he was to admit it, he did have things to do before the night was over, some of those fairly important. Whatever, he'd at least see Athie to the Stepping Steed before vanishing.
"I believe it is! I was there last month, didn't really stay there, but grabbed a drink with an old friend, and they seemed to be doing all right. Just as quiet as ever, though."
He nodded eagerly. "That sounds good for Athie." The Stepping Steed's atmosphere was much less inclined to bar fights or even aggression than the Battleboar, perhaps simply by virtue of name. It was also much smaller, but that didn't matter, as the facilities were just as nice.
"We might as well go check it out! Here, I'll show you goes."
Cedric followed, drifting along at the side of the Tiro, quite relaxed. He was content to simply stroll down the road, going the direction opposite the way they'd come, to a sector of the city distant from the Battleboar Inn and its brawny brawlers. A much quieter side of town awaited them, after all, with the Stepping Steed.
Athie stayed a moment to shove some money at the apothecary. Perhaps not the most financially sound decision, but certainly a kind one. Ced could appreciate kind people, while not being one himself.
"Wait up!"
The Vetr paused in his stride, casting a glance and a smile over towards Athie as the Armfastrung trundled up and wedged himself in the middle, creating a body shield against the world.
And, hah! Here was the Vetr, finding himself with one person who seemed to break the "people are detestable creatures" mold. What an amusing party for everyone. Here he was, finding someone nice in a non-sarcastic manner, and to boot, this someone happened to not hate people!
Might he have found an authentically nice person? What endangered animal was this? Normally Cedric and his companions opted to hate people together instead of find them nice.
This, indeed, warranted a mental narration--safari style!
And now, our researcher finds himself in the company of a beast most strange. He proceeds with it, along with the other specimen, in an attempt to discover more about its curious nature.
Cedric got far too bored within the walls of his own head sometimes.
"So this Stepping Steed then. Is it nice? No brawls, right?"
"The last time I was there, someone accidentally bumped someone's chair over--mind you, without the person in it--and the perpetrator offered to buy drinks for everyone present due to it. This idea was promptly countered by the person whose chair had fallen over instead insisting that they buy the round. This argument went on with much civility until the bartender just handed out a round on the house. I think you'll find the place quite amiable."
Of course, that had been several years back, but he doubted that the place had changed much. The family that was running it all held similar views on how the Stepping Steed's atmosphere should be, so even a change in management wouldn't do much to disrupt the homely feel.
They rounded a corner, leading to a more middle-class residential area. The Stepping Steed was located right at the boundary between a mercantile district and a residential one, a very prime location for the small establishment, catering to businessmen and craftspeople on their way home. It was not as big as the Battleboar, of course, and a little more out-of-the way from the big market square and training grounds, but it kept itself running.
"It mostly has craftsmen who live here," Ced continued. "And the majority of them have families and such. It's certainly not as big as the Battleboar, nor do its patrons have as much variety, but it's still a nice establishment with quality drinks."
Cedric glanced at Anton. "I assume you've had some dealings with it as well, Tiro? Care to elaborate on them? I'm certain we can butter this place up to compensate for the rather shoddy start of Athie's night."
Really, he was just looking for a moment so that he could shut his own trap and continue with his enjoyable mental narration.
Scientist Cedric Vyrrson accompanies the two to their destination. What interaction shall that bring? Perhaps it will shed some light on the mystery of the strange folk beside him. Or perhaps they will discover the key to his own secrets. Either way, they plunge onward to a location unvisited by our crews for several years. What other specimens might we locate there?
The Vetr's hours were either filled with mind-boggling business or a boredom so deep that it lead him to talk to himself in his mind with a fake Australian accent, developing habits that carried over to the busy hours to make them either all the more enjoyable or all the more strange.
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Post by Anton Nystrom on Feb 25, 2014 11:35:55 GMT
Athuraad, "Alvis", and Anton. They were three men of very different backgrounds and personalities walking down a street towards an inn that seemed well suited for all of them. But more than that, they were talking to each other with a type of friendship that was something these kinds of people did not see often.
For Anton, this friendship was guarded towards Alvis, and very careless towards Athuraadd. Athie had little secrets from what Anton could tell, being open about much and seeming sincere and honest when he spoke. He was a man of integrity, but also a man of friendships.
Alvis was a mysterious man, but there was still some trust than Anton felt towards him. He had saved Athie, so he had some type of compassion. He was not heartless or cruel, simple guarded and secretive. Anton could respect though (though it may have annoyed the hell out of it). Even if he wasn't magical, there was certainly something magical about him. Perhaps he would figure out the mysteries of this Alvis man someday, but for tonight, he had to do his best to lay his suspicions to rest; there was nothing that could come of it.
The Stepping Steed was where they were headed. Anton had dealt with it quite a lot in the past, his "house" (it was more of a shared house between three families in Hrafnung) was just a couple door's away, so his mother grew quite fond of the rather simple family. They had a child, too, about three years older than Anton. To be honest, Anton hadn't asked about the child since last year, and from what he knew he was apprenticing himself as a blacksmith.
The Steed family were a family built of honest, hard-work, and empathy. And that feeling reverberated through the inn.
"The last time I was there, someone accidentally bumped someone's chair over--mind you, without the person in it--and the perpetrator offered to buy drinks for everyone present due to it. This idea was promptly countered by the person whose chair had fallen..."
The story was familiar to Anton, and he knew how it would end. Not because he was there, but because such generosity was common there. It was definitely uncommon for the house to buy everyone drinks, but the idea behind it was what Anton knew so well. But Anton still smiled at the story, a small chuckle coming from him. Yeah, they were definitely good people.
"I assume you've had some dealings with it as well, Tiro? Care to elaborate on them?"
There were certainly dealings that Anton had at the Stepping Steed. Many of them pleasant, and the ones that weren't were entirely his own fault. Gods, he still had to ask himself why would he buy raw meat for his meat pie?
Stifling laughter, he managed to nod. "Yeah, plenty of things have happened to me there. Two years ago or so, I met a man who was here on his marriage anniversary, but his wife was out on guard duty for the next couple of days. So a bunch of craftsmen offered to make some things that he could give her when she came back... Nicest people I know stay here."
When Anton finished his sentence, he found himself at the door to the inn. It was nothing special, the wood was old but still in good shape, the glass of the windows were thick to keep the cold out, and there was a murmur of conversation going through the inn itself. "Come on, let's get you a proper place to sleep, Athie." He paused before turning to Alvis. "You joining us for the night? Cold drinks, warm atmosphere, and hopefully no one is stupid enough to even raise their voice here. The whole inn would throw them out before they could say 'sorry'."
A part of him hoped that Alvis would stay. It was a much more innocent part, but it was still a large part of him. The cautious part was being quelled by Anton's conscious mind, as he found himself having enough things to worry about besides this man.
Tags: Athuraadd Fallonkreath Cedric VyrrsonInspiration: do you see any inspiration in this post Notes: I'm totally, totally assuming that the Stepping Steed's family surname is "Steed". /nodnod
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Post by Athuraadd Fallonkreath on Feb 26, 2014 12:46:21 GMT
It was with a happy heart that Athuraadd had found himself in such good company. With Anton on his left and Alvis on his right and himself - the smallest - in the middle, he also felt rather safe. He was a person who excelled in the company of others and loved having others by his side. He put it down to having grown up in such a large family; with all his brothers, mother, father, cousins, their children and so on, you always had someone at your back. For a solitary kind of person, such an environment would perhaps be rather grating, but Athuraadd loved it. Even his brothers - for all the mocking they gave their youngest sibling - were always there for him. They were allowed to pick on Athie, but if anyone else tried it, there was trouble.
Having been thrust into the world and outside his clan where Athie knew not a soul was obviously a great shock. Those first couple of days in Midgardborg, trying to get a sense of everything had proved extremely difficult and -at times- quite frightening. Right now however, he felt at home. Athie was quick to bond with people, and it almost felt like he'd known Alvis and Anton for much longer than he had.
"The last time I was there, someone accidentally bumped someone's chair over--mind you, without the person in it--and the perpetrator offered to buy drinks for everyone present due to it. This idea was promptly countered by the person whose chair had fallen over instead insisting that they buy the round. This argument went on with much civility until the bartender just handed out a round on the house. I think you'll find the place quite amiable."
Athuraadd listened to Alvis' story with a grin of excitement. Now this sounded more like his kind of place. Back in Armfastrung, drinking occasions were rowdy but merry. His clan had many songs for such occasions, they were loud and boisterous and Athie, being as light as he was, was often coaxed up onto the table to lead a verse or two. He was a good singer, not necessarily in the sense that he had a perfectly in tune singing voice, but good in the sense that his confidence and joy usually roused everyone else in the room to follow suite. "Trust me, boys," he smiled, with a slight spring in his step, "-after the night we've had, I think we so deserve a round or two."
"Yeah, plenty of things have happened to me there. Two years ago or so, I met a man who was here on his marriage anniversary, but his wife was out on guard duty for the next couple of days. So a bunch of craftsmen offered to make some things that he could give her when she came back... Nicest people I know stay here."
Athie had heard all he'd needed to hear - no more convincing needed. He could spot the old, wooden sign that read 'The Stepping Steed' from up ahead. The lights were on and burned brightly in the windows, and Athie could see the shadows of people bustling happily on the cobblestones of the road outside. He looked to his companions, "I'll race you!" And without a second more hesitation, he shot off, quick as a flash, only looking back briefly to hurl a playful taunt at his competitors, "Jeez, come on, while we're still young!"
Once they'd reached the door to the inn, Athie found that he was barely panting. Then again, it wasn't really a surprise. His nimble but strong legs were great at short distance sprinting, and he was used to it (running away from brothers trying to give you wedgies does that) so he wasn't the slightest bit puffed out.
"Come on, let's get you a proper place to sleep, Athie. You joining us for the night? Cold drinks, warm atmosphere, and hopefully no one is stupid enough to even raise their voice here. The whole inn would throw them out before they could say 'sorry'."
Athie turned to Alvis, "Yeah, come on, Alvis." he grinned, "Drakonrhedi or not, surely there isn't anything more important than having a few more drinks with some strangers you saved from a bar fight, right?" He genuinely hoped Alvis would be convinced; he was a bizarre but rather fun drinking companion, Athie would be sorry to see him go now. He shot a brief look to Anton and then back at Alvis, before adding playfully, "Unless you're worried me and Anton can drink you under the table?" Deciding to break out the big guns, he gave Alvis a quick flash of puppy-dog-eyes, "Please?"
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Post by Cedric Vyrrson on Feb 27, 2014 0:43:50 GMT
"Trust me, boys-after the night we've had, I think we so deserve a round or two."
Ced smiled slightly. My night is hardly beginning. I'll have to pass. He couldn't have his mind already dulled, he'd had some diluted mead at the bar, but that was about all he could risk at the start of a work shift.
"Yeah, plenty of things have happened to me there. Two years ago or so, I met a man who was here on his marriage anniversary, but his wife was out on guard duty for the next couple of days. So a bunch of craftsmen offered to make some things that he could give her when she came back... Nicest people I know stay here."
The Vetr nodded with understanding. That was pretty frequent at the Stepping Steed. Instead of brawls, they had random acts of kindness.
Before he could say anything, Athie had dashed forward, once more a bundle of exuberant energy.
"I'll race you!"
"I what?" Cedric asked, quite surprised. Internally, he cursed himself for managing to get surprised by the little Viking. That could've meant death, in a different situation. He couldn't let himself lower his guard.
"Jeez, come on, while we're still young!"
In this situation, however, he was still safe.
The Vetr gave a relaxed smile and quickened his pace to the door. He was not demonstrating nearly the level of athleticism that he'd shown when escaping from their escapade in the Battleboar, but it was certainly faster than the leisurely pace he'd been going at.
Athie was still bouncing at the door. Anton arrived with Ced, where the Vetr was prepared to give them a good evening and vanish once more.
"Come on, let's get you a proper place to sleep, Athie. You joining us for the night? Cold drinks, warm atmosphere, and hopefully no one is stupid enough to even raise their voice here. The whole inn would throw them out before they could say 'sorry'."
Cedric was most concerned about the Tiro's question. He hadn't really considered staying. Sure, he'd thrown it in the 'safari' and kind of assumed it would happen, but at the same time he logically understood that he had far too much to do to dawdle any longer, even in such good company.
"Yeah, come on, Alvis. Drakonrhedi or not, surely there isn't anything more important than having a few more drinks with some strangers you saved from a bar fight, right?"
The Vetr glanced over his shoulder at the clouded skies, the moon simply a smudge of brightness behind the curtain of grey, like a domed blanket on the skies.
"Unless you're worried me and Anton can drink you under the table? Please?"
Ack! Athie had brought out the puppy eyes. A hard thing to resist, to be sure. But Cedric had some experience with his own drake, who, objectively speaking (of course, entirely objectively), was the most adorable little thing to ever grace the earth with his fuzzy presence.
And speaking of his drake, Ced had lots of things to do.
Cedric sighed, sounding truly tired for the first time that night. "Alas, I had best be off. I have a multitude of chores to take care of, and little time... For night's swift dragons cut the clouds full fast."
He couldn't help but end with Shakespeare. For their meeting had started with him reading the bard's work, so why shouldn't it end with a quote from the same marvelous piece?
With a quick, mysterious smile, he pulled up the hood of his cloak. He nodded his head to the two of them, then quietly turned and strode away, hands in pockets, as the rain beat lightly against the black fabric covering him. A light breeze picked up, twirling the cloak into the air and sending it flapping to one side of him like an apparition, light from a street lamp casting his actual shadow on the other side of him.
Indeed, Cedric. You are no longer beside friends. Your only company now is yourself and the shadows around you.
The Vetr smiled, this time much more bitterly. However, he doubted that either of his former companions could see that particular expression. Indeed, he hoped not--his exit from their lives should be smooth, the only questions they were left with being ones that he wanted them to ponder.
For Cedric Vyrrson severely doubted that this would be the last time he saw either of them.
The bitter smile turned into a smirk, and Cedric bent his head down slightly, turning once more into the Vetr of the Stalkers and master Drakonrhedi. He'd catch up with these two particular drinking buddies later.
Oh, yes. The poor lads hadn't seen all they would of him just yet.
| Tags: Anton Nystrom, Athuraadd FallonkreathInspiration: Mind's Eye - Feed My Revolver Notes: His ending quote is a line from Puck in Midsummer Night's Dream.
ANYWAY HOPPING OUT 'CAUSE IT SEEMED APPROPRIATE AND YOU TWO CAN GET DOWN TO SHIPPING also lol angsty cedric don't work |
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Post by Anton Nystrom on Feb 27, 2014 5:20:50 GMT
The night was certain to be a long and exciting night – or, at least, that's how it felt to Anton. Soon the runaway adrenaline would teeter away and he would be left with a rather late night, a warm bed, and a stomach full of food. The perfect conditions for sleeping. Plus there was Athie, who was such good company that he doubted he would even be able to get into a bad mood. Yes, it would be a fantastic night, no matter the condition of the inn itself.
Anton listened to Athie attempt to coerce Alvis at the entrance to the inn. Damn, even Anton felt a bit bad for anyone who ever said no to this kid. He was ridiculously good at being that one kid that you oh-so-didn't want to say no to. He was probably a master of guilt-tripping people into doing whatever he wanted them to. From the expression on Alvis's face, however, said that he was trying his damnedest to not fall for it.
I'd say well done, but I think you should totally stay the night with us anyway, Anton said to himself as he listened to the poor excuses. Of course he would have something to do, he was such a mysterious person after all. It almost made Anton laugh, to think that Alvis would have anything else to do besides being secretive.
He waved goodbye to the mysterious man before turning to the one standing beside him. There was no pointing in just standing around, so he opened the door to enter the inn where it was all warmth and happiness. He took a breath and looked around the inn to see (much to his pleasure) that it was almost entirely the same, even with the same old man sitting at a table near the bar.
“Ah, Mr. Steed,” Anton called out, the familiarity with the man coming back in an instant. ”So, I need a room for the night, two drinks, and something to eat since we had a rather exciting night before we found ourselves in this place. Stories can be told tomorrow, but for tonight, I think it's best if he and I just rest.”
The man sighed (though a smile was on his face) and listed a price as he found his way over to the bar, getting two drinks for the men. Anton was more than happy to pay the man, as he had more than enough money, and business was always a bit on the off side at this inn. It was not the most comfortable, the most well stocked, nor the biggest inn in the city by a long shot.
Anton sat down at a table in the tavern, leaning his back and letting his arm fall down so they hung above the ground. He was certainly in need of some rest, but for now, he would entertain himself with Athie. He looked at the man, looking over the body before smiling. Yeah... He's definitely a runner...
”Mmm, this has been quite the night, eh?”
Tags: Athuraadd FallonkreathInspiration: none Notes: Shall we just close the thread? We already have our other two threads doing stuffs at the moment, so yeah.
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