Brothers in Arms, Brothers in Booze

Ced was having a productive evening.

He was undercover and hanging out in the Battleboar again. His last escapade here had done little to chase him away, as it was such a vital hub of activity and as such a fountain of information. Besides, it hadn't been him who'd gotten hurt last time. In fact, he had that situation well under control, so it wasn't like he couldn't handle the place or something. 

The Vetr was eavesdropping, in the guise of a fiery-haired man who was currently rotting somewhere in a sewer after he'd killed a Tiro. Cedric was a bit of a doppleganger in the fact that he liked to use the appearances of those he'd killed as his personas' looks. It seemed a shame to waste such things, after all, and even dead people could be used by his amulet's power. 

Thus so far, he'd uncovered a few interesting-sounding leads. He was mostly concerned about the rising tensions between Lennarting and Bjornung, and although he hadn't uncovered the exact reasoning, he was getting closer.

The seat next to him was briefly vacant, but soon taken by another man, who placed his impressive battleaxe against the counter. Ced refrained from raising his eyebrows, instead glancing to the man with a quick smile before returning to his drink and his task.

However, having someone sitting close meant that their conversation was overheard even if one was trying to eavesdrop elsewhere.

"You call your patrons 'sir' here, now? You're far too sweet for a place like this."

Well, a little silver-tongued and naughty, are we?

Few started off by flirting when not already intoxicated.

"What can I get you, darling?"

Ced took another swig of his drink, a diluted ale. He didn't like being drunk on the job, but one had to do certain things to fit in.

"A mug of Dragon's Bite, if you'd be so kind."

The Vetr's eyebrow twitched. That was some hard-hitting liquor. 

He was about to introduce himself when he became aware of another man coming up behind him.

"Move," came the newcomer's command.

Cedric carefully pushed his ale to the middle of the counter and turned.

A burly-looking viking was standing with arms crossed. The Vetr couldn't be sure how intoxicated he was, but-

"I said, move."

The Vetr gave a polite cough. "I would love to, if you would simply ask nicely."

The man growled.

Ced ducked just in time to avoid the fist. As he fell off his stool and to the ground, he glanced up and found that the drunk's strike had instead hit....

The battleaxe.

However, the idiot did not appear to be phased by striking what was obviously a very prized possession, instead moving to take Ced's stool.

"Really? I just sat down," the Vetr sighed.

He quietly sprang up, just as the drunk glared at the flirtatious owner of the battleaxe and growled, "What?" in a manner most hostile.

Before much could happen, Ced had his hand on the man's neck, which he'd stupidly left exposed. The drunk flailed, reaching over to grab Ced, rudely grasping his shoulder. The Vetr gritted his teeth and simply maintained pressure.

After a second, the drunk fell, tumbling off the chair. 

Cedric gave an uncertain smile,  moving to sit down.

"Hopefully no one'll really be bothered," he muttered.

"Not bad."

The Vetr gave a grin, bowing his head in thanks for the compliment before attempting to return to his evening of eavesdropping.

Cedric's attention was quickly averted from his calm drink by another man stomping over. He sighed, prepared to deal with the issue at hand, when his companion, who had appeared quite traumatized at the first drunkard even touching his axe, stood and grasped the weapon.

"I'll take this one."

He nodded. "Sounds good." I just sat down, after all. He took a swig of ale, glancing over to see how the man fared. He took care of things easily, and Ced raised an eyebrow with an impressed nod.

However, before his companion could return to his seat, a woman who had recently appeared behind the corner began shouting at him.

"Vilkas Fallonkreath! Trust you to make a mess wherever you go!"

Fallonkreath.

Cedric's brow furrowed. Athuraadd Fallonkreath. Vilkas Fallonkreath. A clan that frequents this place quite often, I see, and one that does have a tendency towards trouble.

This promised to be amusing.

"Hortence! Glad you see you haven't forgotten me!"

"Forgetting you would be a welcome bliss, you troublesome boy! I would've thought after all these years you would've calmed down."

"Looks like you were wrong, my darling."

The Vetr's eyebrow raised at this exchange. It seemed as if this Vilkas got around quite a bit, and not in the same way that his brother did. Athie seemed a bit more tame than this fellow, but the smaller Fallonkreath was certainly less accustomed to fighting than the larger one.

"Don't you 'darling', me. I'll take that battleaxe and shove it where the sun doesn't shine if you don't watch your lip. Not that you'd mind. And anyway, I'd take it very kindly if you wouldn't make a mess out of my pub."

Cedric was very good at making a mess in this pub, but he always used different aliases, so it was very hard to pin down one culprit.

"Wouldn't dream of it. Say, another pint for me and my fellow ringfighter here, pretty please?"

"Wha-" Ced blinked, alarmed, glancing up and around as he was apparently mentioned. Does the entire Fallonkreath family insist on getting drinks for anyone who happens to bump into them?! He withheld a sigh. Apparently the family was just courteous in their own particular fashion.

The barmaid returned, and Ced gave a grin to both her and Vilkas, raising the mug with a "thank you." Begrudging hospitality really wasn't in his best interest, especially when this might prove to be an amusing night.

"Not bad with your hands, are you?"

Cedric blinked again. "I like to think so," he responded. He was fairly certain that he, too, was being hit on--at least, that's what the mischievous smirk on Vilkas's face seemed to connotate. However, for now at least, he'd pretend as if he didn't realize it. "You're not bad with an axe yourself."

That was a really bad innuendo, and he barely repressed a wince at the fact that he'd said it.

He resolved to continue on, regardless of bad jokes.

"Speaking of." He gestured at the axe. "High quality. Does it have a name?"

Some people named their weapons. Cedric just named his drake. His other stuff broke too often.

There was a bit of a hubbub behind them, and Ced cast a worried glance over his shoulder. "Please don't break into a fight," he murmured. "I literally just sat down."

"Anytime."

Vilkas took a swallow.

How did he even have time to finish that first mug. That was Dragon's Bi--how fast did he drink that?!

Ced was not a very good drinker, needless to say. He much preferred Shakespeare, and didn't need to drink for his job nearly as much as he needed to Shakespeare. He'd done a very good job of finding the correct job for him in that regard. However, he was still certain he'd be a magnificent Literature teacher. Perhaps when he retired. If he retired before he died.

This Fallonkreath did appear to have more of an ego, however, judging from the way that he puffed himself about at the compliment. "That's Armfastrung training right there."

It appeared as if his 'in' for this man was to play to his ego.

"Swift and unrelenting. And that right there is Fallonkreath smithing. You won't find another beauty like that in the whole world, I can assure you."

Cedric nodded, casting an appreciative eye over the weapon. It was a truly magnificent beast--however, definitely not as suited to him as his current choice in arms. He doubted he'd be much use with that hefty thing.

"She's gorgeous," he responded, making sure to let his authenticity shine through.

"She's named after a distant ancestor of mine, a shield-maiden. A woman who was said to have had a punch so strong she'd send you to the other side of the earth if she wanted. And a kick more forceful than a thousand steeds. She was said to have been extremely beautiful too, but all the men were too afraid to court her because she was so much stronger than they were. It seemed a rather fitting name for her."

The Vetr bobbed his head in assent once again. "Indeed. A battlemaiden is always an appropriate choice for a weapon's name."

So long as you don't try to bed it. That would be painful.

Ced, why are you thinking about that now?

"Vilkas, by the way. Although you probably gathered that."

Cedric blinked and returned to the conversation at hand. "Ah! Yes. Speaking of names!"

"I honestly don't cause that big of a mess, promise. It's just ...messes just have a funny habit of presenting themselves to me. Runs in the family."

Ced chuckled. "Styr Venshart." He held out a hand. "And so I gather!"

He had opened his mouth to continue speaking when there was a shout from the back of the tavern.

He whipped around, finding that the conflict he had noticed previously had devolved into a fight. One of the men was impaled on a sword, and the woman nearby looked horrified. The tavern was silenced for a moment in shock.

Then the attacker withdrew his blade and dashed from the tavern to the rain.

The Vetr wasted no time. "On your feet," he murmured, and then was dashing in pursuit of the assaulter in an eyeblink, leaping onto a table and taking a much straighter path, dancing between mugs, than one would get running around the tables. Landing on the ground, he rolled through the impact, pulled up his hood, and shoved through the door.

Ced narrowly dodged the bloodied sword thrown his way, glancing up before darting off in pursuit of the man.

Hopefully Vilkas had followed him. Another Fallonkreath on his side would be welcome indeed, if Athie was anything to judge the character of the family by.

“And that’s just her motionless—you have got to see what she looks like cleaving a behemoth in two.”

Ced nodded eagerly. Most things looked better cleaving a behemoth in two, so he was fairly certain that the weapon would not be excluded in that. And if this man was truly as proficient with the axe as he made himself out to be, then the Vetr would have to keep this connection in case the Drakonrhedi needed a quick ally.

He did, of course, already have a friend in Athie. This clan was bigger than he’d anticipated, and having however many Fallonkreaths there were on his side would certainly be an advantage if push were to come to shove.

Vilkas did seem quite friendly, as evidenced through the easy handshake and greeting of, “All the best to you, Styr.” Cedric returned the man’s grin, glad to at least have the apparent approval of two out of an unknown number of Fallonkreaths. Something told him that Athie and Vilkas weren’t the only two out there. He’d have another fun “just kidding, I’m a Vetr” moment with Vilkas sometime, then. Fun for him, at least.

However, before he could put much more thought into that particular possible future, he had to spring into action.

There were shouts of alarm as he passed through, but he ignored them, instead focusing on moving through the tangle atop the tables. He made it outside with no troubles, a fact which he had to attribute to Shakespeare. The bard had included a fair number of dances in his plays, and Cedric had of course taken it upon himself to learn the correct steps to each of them. While there had been some fumbling in the learning, they’d made him a bit more conscious of his footwork.

Vilkas had reappeared, and was gaining on him quickly. Ced just grinned and bowed his head to the wind—he was not as good in sprinting over extended distances. His expertise lay more in being nimble of foot and sleight of hand.

And all of a sudden, there was a flying Vilkas to the side of him. With a yelp from the attacker, both were sent to the ground.

Ced skidded to a stop as Vilkas contained the culprit, leaping to the front of the man and squaring his stance in case he managed to break free. However, the Vetr needn’t have worried—Vilkas had easily pinned him and, in fact, knocked him out.

“Stay still.”

“Excellent,” Cedric murmured, joining the Fallonkreath in laughter.

“Making friends tonight, aren’t we, my friend?”

“Indeed we are. I daresay we are quite popular.”

Ced’s attention was soon caught by the approaching crowd. “Well, we appear to have an audience,” he remarked quietly, scanning over the crowd to find many of the faces present in the bar. “I hope one of them had the sense to bring our stabbed compatriot to the damned apothecary.”

Of course, Vikings were not know not known to be sensible.

Vilkas blew a raspberry, making Cedric shoot a glance his way. The Vetr shifted his weight from foot to foot, making a small and unimpressed “hmph” as he stifled a grimace.

“You’re fast, Styr. You should race my youngest brother. I think you two could get on rather well.”

Ced grinned. “Thanks. Not a bad takedown, there. And I’ll have to keep that in mind—what’s his name? Something Fallonkreath, I assume?”

Perhaps, I daresay, Athuraadd Fallonkreath?

He was silent on that regard, however, preferring to keep his illegally obtained knowledge to himself. Instead, he simply gave a small chuckle, which was not altogether entirely out of the ordinary for the context of this conversation.

The crowd came over, most appearing to have been patrons from the bar, some still with their drinks in hand.

Cedric stepped forward. “Everything’s under control, my dear fellows,” he announced above the murmur of the group. “The attacker is incapacitated. Might I suggest someone bringing the injured to the apothecary so conveniently located across the street?”

His agents in that particular establishment could get news about the reason for the brawl out of the man injured, after all. He dearly hoped that this wasn’t the start of something much larger and more dangerous than a simple brawl.

“I’ll be escorting this ruffian to the authorities so that he can be admonished for his stabhappy ways. Please, return to your drinks. Apologies for disturbing your evening.”

Turning to Vilkas, he gave a sigh as the crowd grumbled and turned away, evidently unhappy that they hadn’t managed to see a brawl of some sorts. It was doubtful that they could have come fast enough to actually catch Vilkas in action—he was certainly not a bad warrior. It was remarkable that he wasn’t part of the Drakonrhedi.

“I’ll be bringing this man in, as I said. Not the worst offender out there, but I don’t particularly want this devolving into something worse than it already is. I’ll be able to handle him on my own, if you’d prefer to return to your drink, but company would be appreciated.”

"Don't get too excited, Styr. Those are Battleboar patriots you're talking about. Don't hold out for much where sense is concerned."

Ced chuckled, nodding his agreement. Indeed, Vilkas's words had truth in them. Vikings were not known to be sensible, and a mob of drunken patrons of an establishment named 'battleboar' certainly did not promise for being the best of a bad bunch. 

"Got a quick mind and a quick pair of legs on you- lucky me. But yes, you'd be right. He's the baby Fallonkreath. His name's-"

'The baby Fallonkreath.' So there's even more of them. Spectacular!

It appeared that Ced's suspicions were correct, and that the Fallonkreaths were a numerous and... energetic bunch. That meant that getting on their good side would certainly be an excellent move on his part, and something that he intended to do regardless of political motives. Athie had already shown him kindness, and Vilkas had aided him in a chase. They were certainly prone to attracting trouble. Not an issue for a Vetr, though.

"What- no! I didn't- we didn't. Just...you know, delivered some justice. Sorted him out for you, darling."

Cedric stifled a grin as he stepped up beside Vilkas. "Indeed," he supplied. "The fine Lord Fallonkreath here seems to be a justice-dealer of the highest quality. He's renown for his fight against the worst scum of the streets, you know. A true viking."

There was no harm in a bit of playful assistance to Vilkas's rather lewd motives. The barmaid probably was well-accustomed to such flirtatious patrons.

"Urm, Madame Hortence is making sure he gets treatment....sir."

The Vetr nodded. "Give her my thanks, then. The woman has a solid state of mind."

Thank the gods. It was hard to find a smidgen of common sense around here.

There was a moment of silence as the crowd dispersed, and then the two cohorts were left to themselves.

"Here."

Ced blinked. "Oh, thanks," he responded as Vilkas hoisted the unconscious man onto a shoulder. He had been planning on tying the man up somehow and then taking a long trip to the docks, but this worked better.

"Shall we?"

He nodded and fell into step beside Vilkas, sticking his hands in his pockets as the adrenaline of his chase began to fade.

"We were talking about my brother earlier, weren't we? Athuraadd. His name's Athuraadd. Athuraadd the Canon-Fodder."

Aha.

Ced gave a chuckle. Vilkas spoke with a type of brotherly affection, despite his words, that the Vetr recognized well from his own interactions with and about his brother. Stephie was, certainly, Ced's dear sibling, but that didn't stop the blue-haired Vyrrson from annoying the poor man to no end.

"Just joking. Athuraadd, he's...well, Athie's... he's not the bravest of Fallonkreaths. Or strongest. Or wisest. He's...unique."

That he is indeed.

"I see," Cedric replied, encouraging his companion to go on. This was an interesting conversation, after all, and he didn't want to interrupt the flow of information coming from Vilkas. There was much amusement to be had as it was, and he was content to continue to take it in.

"He went travelling recently. That's sort of why I'm in Midgardborg. I'm- we're worried about him at home. I just wanted to find him and check that he isn't lying in a ditch somewhere."

Despite his words, Ced inferred that Vilkas was at least slightly worried about his brother. It was hard not to be. The Vetr was often concerned about his own sibling's fate, despite the fact that he knew from personal experience Stephie could handle himself. Besides,, there was a slight tint to the man's tone... no, the Fallonkreaths were a family that was either very good at deception or a family that cared for each other, and Cedric was inclined towards the latter.

"Don't suppose you might have seen him around? He's short, shorter than you, light brown floppy hair, wears a green bandana on his neck. Sort of... meek looking?"

From what Cedric understood, Athie was either still on the Drakonborg or perhaps on a ship back.

"I doubt you've seen him; he's so small, he just gets lost amongst people. Still, he often falls into situations he can't handle by himself, I thought maybe there was a chance you've seen someone of that ilk bobbing around somewhere."

"Hmm. I may have. About yay tall?" he inquired, indicating at around Athie's height with one hand. The memory of meeting Athie came back to him, and he added, "A little prone to trouble that he didn't start nor deserve?"

They had come to the section of the docks allotted for the Drakonrhedi ships, and Ced automatically made towards the vessel that had brought him here. "I think she sails in this one," he muttered to cover his actions.

Ced glanced to the side, suppressing a grin at the drake currently hidden beneath one of the piers, watching with wide eyes. Of course Puck was here--the drake had probably spotted his master a while back. It was nice to be able to count on someone like that, even if that someone was a mischievous little bastard that frequently used his awareness for more trouble than good.

"I think I had a run-in with your brother a while back. A very... rambunctious little lad. Made for an interesting night, let me tell you that."

The Vetr had no idea that an overprotective brother might take that the wrong way.

SMACK!

Right on the eye. He was sent reeling, hard, eyes flying shut to protect themselves.

"A good lay, was he?! Go for the weak, trusting types do you?!"

Cedric's head spun and darkness leaped up in front of his eyes. He wasn't sure where he was. Who he was. Shakespeare? Sounded about right, but he wasn't exactly sure what Shakespeare was the asking answer to.

"I bet he was really sweet to you, wasn't he? Made it really easy for you to take advantage."

The voice assaulted him from all directions. But it appeared to be implying that he was the one doing the assaulting. Who had he been assaulting?

Shakespeare?

Ahh, so it appeared as if he had taken advantage of Shakespeare. Or, at least, that's what the voice believed. Boy, was he glad to be figuring these things out!

His world began to shake. This was most troublesome. Was there an earthquake? Must be.

"Where is he now? What have you done to him?"

Who?

Shakespeare?

Wasn't he... dead?

Oh gods, had he killed Shakespeare?

"Puck, please don't, please!"

Another voice broke into his delirium, but soon there was a thunderous sound. Probably from the earthquake.

The ground shuddered beneath him, and he wavered on his feet, his uninjured eye flying open to try and find something to grab onto to save himself from the earthquake and--

He was on a dock.

Several thousand feet in the air.

There was another roar from beside him.

"Puck," he whispered, things beginning to click back into place in his mind. His brain began to unfog.

He'd just been punched. Really damn hard.

His drake swept around beside him, letting Ced fall against his shoulder as the Vetr's vision fizzed with darkness once more. He glanced down, finding himself looking like himself--apparently he had been knocked out, if briefly, and it had unraveled the illusion around him.

He slumped against Puck's neck, the drake still in full-on combat mode, with claws extended, wings open (and blocking the way off the docks), and hackles risen.

"Itssokay," he managed to say, reaching up to pat the drake's neck. "Ced's okay." He raised his head with some difficulty, pointing at Athie. "Vilkas, brother. Happy." He closed his eyes, his head throbbing even as he recovered himself from the weirdest dream he'd had while unconscious.

"I think I'm gonna go take a nap now," he slurred. "Jus' a... bit of a headache, really... I'll be fine..."

Puck rumbled beneath him with displeasure at this stranger.

"Shhh," he told the drake, patting it again. "I feel better. I think I'll go for a walk." He pushed himself from Puck, the drake's eyes growing wide and worried, dropping his hackles to curve his head around and support his rider's hand. "See? Standing already. I'm good."

Ced paused and raised his hand to gingerly prod at his eye with a hiss. "Oww. Long time since I've been hit like that." He paused, then glanced around. "What'd you do with the guy we caught?"

Apparently, even though Ced was the one getting knocked out he was not the confused one here.

Vilkas appeared to not only be terrified by Puck's sudden and uproarious appearance,but seriously misinformed about a great deal of things.

At least Athie appeared to have things straight, and was apparently on his side. That was good. It meant that he was probably in the right about said things. 

"Athie-!!"

Cedric automatically tensed at the sound, worried that the littler Fallonkreath might be in danger. However, Athie appeared to just be on his way over to stand beside Puck, lending the drake a comforting pat on the snout.

Despite his current angered state, Puck took a moment to glance at Athie and give him an affectionate warble, reaching his head over to lick the side of the short viking's face to show his reciprocation.

What followed was a back-and-forth that Ced recognized, if only subconsciously, as very similar to that between him and his brother. He understood quite clearly that it was a very familiar format, however, one that had been used for eras by humans simply because that's how they worked.

"Who the hell is Cedric?"

He weakly raised a hand in a wave. "Hullo," he managed to croak out. "This is Cedric, looking like Cedric and not like Styr."

There was some more back-and-forth. He should really be paying attention, but damn did he have a headache. It seemed to be subsiding a little bit, at least--he wondered if he happened to have any sort of light-imbued healing solution on him. He began to rummage in his pockets, finally pulling out a phial. He popped it open and raised it to his lips. A mouthful coursed down his throat and his eyes closed with relief from the pain, and then--

"I just borrowed a pair from your boyfriend over there, seeing as he won't be needing them now!"

-What?!

His eyes flew open and he half-swallowed half-gagged, sending him into a series of coughs. 

"Say what now?!"

"Jerk!"

"Dumbass!"

Ced stepped away from the support of Puck and quietly replaced the phial.

"Excuse me, fine sirs, but I would like to inquire
As to the nature of that comment about Athie's romantic relations,
Because it appears that we might have a slight misunderstanding
As to the constitution of his taste,
And what I mean to say is,
--You had damn well better have meant that unconscious fellow there and not me, because you are quite mistaken."

He spoke very fast--quickly enough to make the words flow off of his tongue like lyrics or a poem. However, his tone was sharp and slightly curt, as if some offence had been perpetrated against him. His hand had come up and he'd begun to gesture with it as he spoke.

The sound of footsteps reached his ears as two other Drakonrhedi hurried over. "Vetr Cedric! Is everything-"

He pointed to the unconscious man. "Bring him to a holding cell. I'll take care of that later. Right now there appears to be a misunderstanding about my relationship status that I would just love to clear up."

Although the harshly sarcastic tone of his voice gave no indication of it, the pun was entirely intentional.