Same smell, same rancid smell. As his nostrils flared, Holler's eyes narrowed. Sabata's harbor hadn't changed a bit. The three months since his forced departure hadn't impacted on it at all. As he stood on the coarse planks of the walkway, the Orc wondered whether or not the prince of alehouses was still in residence. Denning, that was the guys name! Quite liked the geezer... Memories of his earlier visit trooped around him like a kindergarten class around Bobo the Clown, all clamouring for attention. As the film of events leading up to his involuntary departure showed on the inside of his skull, the Orc resolved never to get so totally hammered as he was then, ever again. Well, not whilst being in Sabata - the slave trading capital of the world - anyway.
The weight of his equipment pulled at his broad, green shoulders. After the freshness of the ship's deck the confined heat of Sabata added a good fifty stone to his load. Better to get out of this heat. As an Orc he wasn't prone to mushy feelings of melancholy, but the idea of leaving his former comrades on the ship stung him nonetheless. But that was the only downside of leaving the creaky, old vessel with it's coward of a captain. Transferring his gaze from Sabata's dockside, the sturdy sailor looked back at the pirate ship. Annoyed by his feelings Sleipnir bend down to the leather bag lying limply at his feet. Grasping it firmly - as if he was wringing his former captain's neck - he threw it over his right shoulder. The decision to toss him ashore in Sabata had been reached and implemented on such short notice that the Orc hadn't been able to say his goodbyes. That, he did regret.
Tossed off in Sabata (Chyril 22nd, Early TT) ~ Lir & Hol
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Lir Calysta Markby
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Black boots stepped off the plank and onto very dry land, a violet eye assessed her surrounding. It was definitely not the Nether's Gate or any of the places she had been to before.
The air was pungent and it was even foreign to her. This was her moment of hesitation as she made sure to step out of any unloading dock worker's way. Well, you picked the place, now you are going to have to live with it.
Selling her house had given her quite a bit of funds to start in the new place but like any mercenary, more money was always better.
Lir's eye caught the lumbering orc almost looking sulky as he flung his bag over his shoulder not being mindful as to who was around him. "Hey watch it!" She replied with acid in her voice as she side stepped a potential but unintentional beating.
"There are people down here you know." She muttered. The heat was definitely oppressive and it did not do much for her temperament. She hoped that she'll get used to the heat.
Her own bags were close at hand to ensure their safety. She figured as in every new town there were vultures ready to steal a person's money. It was time to find some lodging and do some exploring. "You hungry?" She asked Holler not exactly sure if it would be easier to go to places with the orc, but she figured that it would not hurt have an intimidating companion plus the humanoid had killed someone that was going to attack her. How could she say no?
"You ever been here before?" She asked wondering if he had something in mind.
The air was pungent and it was even foreign to her. This was her moment of hesitation as she made sure to step out of any unloading dock worker's way. Well, you picked the place, now you are going to have to live with it.
Selling her house had given her quite a bit of funds to start in the new place but like any mercenary, more money was always better.
Lir's eye caught the lumbering orc almost looking sulky as he flung his bag over his shoulder not being mindful as to who was around him. "Hey watch it!" She replied with acid in her voice as she side stepped a potential but unintentional beating.
"There are people down here you know." She muttered. The heat was definitely oppressive and it did not do much for her temperament. She hoped that she'll get used to the heat.
Her own bags were close at hand to ensure their safety. She figured as in every new town there were vultures ready to steal a person's money. It was time to find some lodging and do some exploring. "You hungry?" She asked Holler not exactly sure if it would be easier to go to places with the orc, but she figured that it would not hurt have an intimidating companion plus the humanoid had killed someone that was going to attack her. How could she say no?
"You ever been here before?" She asked wondering if he had something in mind.
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Slowly Holler brought his hand up above his eyes as he looked down at the ship's healer. The acid in her voice got it's claws clipped by a low growl escaping the Orc's fangs. Remembering who was speaking to him so, he settled down a bit. "Lir..." Not used to or any good at apologies the tall greenling moved so the young human stood in his shade. It was from an Orcish point of view a rather thoughtful gesture and could perhaps be considered an awkward apology. "Are you off here, too?"
As Lir inquired about the state of his stomach, he looked at her appraisingly. Some of the woman's curves promised good grub. After a few flickers of wistful thinking, Holler realized that she probably meant to have a meal with him. Only slightly disappointed, he grunted: "Could eat, I could."
Feeling a steady trickle of sweat run down his spine into his breeches, Holler nodded at the small woman in the shape he threw on the planks. "Holler was 'ere before. Months ago." Grinning a toothy smile, he waved in the general direction of the town. "Come. I'll show you the prince of alehouses!"
As Lir inquired about the state of his stomach, he looked at her appraisingly. Some of the woman's curves promised good grub. After a few flickers of wistful thinking, Holler realized that she probably meant to have a meal with him. Only slightly disappointed, he grunted: "Could eat, I could."
Feeling a steady trickle of sweat run down his spine into his breeches, Holler nodded at the small woman in the shape he threw on the planks. "Holler was 'ere before. Months ago." Grinning a toothy smile, he waved in the general direction of the town. "Come. I'll show you the prince of alehouses!"
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Lir Calysta Markby
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A curt nod was given, "Yup, I thought a scenery change would be good for me, although, I know nothing of this place." She replied back to Holler's question.
The ship healer had caught Holler's look and frowned, "You need to stop looking at me like I'm a piece of steak." Then shook her head. Orcs... Lir nodded once again not appreciating the idea of being a potential meal to her companion.
Holler had revealed that he had been here before, she hoped it was a good thing and he had not left a big mess before leaving. Lir followed the orc to the nearest lodgings for food, drink and rest hoping it was everything the orc thought it was when he had last visited.
The ship healer had caught Holler's look and frowned, "You need to stop looking at me like I'm a piece of steak." Then shook her head. Orcs... Lir nodded once again not appreciating the idea of being a potential meal to her companion.
Holler had revealed that he had been here before, she hoped it was a good thing and he had not left a big mess before leaving. Lir followed the orc to the nearest lodgings for food, drink and rest hoping it was everything the orc thought it was when he had last visited.
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Some things never change. The eternal cycle of birth, life and death is one of them, as is the meddling of the gods in the affairs of mortals from their lofty perch in the Aether. Another of these universal constants is the humble dockland tavern.
It didn't take Holler long to find the nameless alehouse he'd visited previously, a long, narrow building clinging to the side of a great warehouse and sandwiched in by a fisherman's shop on the seaward side. Its most telling feature was its fierce smell, fetid body odours mingling with the wheaty smell of beer in abundance, carried out onto the docks by the sea breeze where it mixed with the aromas of salt and pitch.
The tavern hadn't got any lighter since Holler's last visit, and the very human-sized doorway still provided the only source of illumination for its dingy interior. The burble of rough voices in a dozen dialects provided an aural backdrop for the scene. Towards the back of the room, where a doorway led further into the tavern, a worn circular wooden board had been hung on the wall. Two bare-armed men were taking it in turns to flick their knives at the target, which was decorated with a passable drawing of the profile of a great draconian head, its baleful eye dead centre. One particularly lopsided throw caused a waitress emerging from the back room to scream "Watch out!" as the knife scythed into the doorframe next to her.
Denning was standing at the bar, wiping mugs clean. The tattooed bartender squinted as he saw Holler and Lir enter. Dozens of different sailors passed through his establishment every day, and he couldn't be expected to recognise them all... but this one was very tall, green, and had performed an impressive bow the last time the pair met. This meant that it didn't take long for the man's memory to be jogged. "Yer Excellentness the Ambassader!" he greeted Holler cheerfully. "An' this would be yer... er... Diplermatic Associate," he added with a nod to Lir. "So what can I getcha?"
It didn't take Holler long to find the nameless alehouse he'd visited previously, a long, narrow building clinging to the side of a great warehouse and sandwiched in by a fisherman's shop on the seaward side. Its most telling feature was its fierce smell, fetid body odours mingling with the wheaty smell of beer in abundance, carried out onto the docks by the sea breeze where it mixed with the aromas of salt and pitch.
The tavern hadn't got any lighter since Holler's last visit, and the very human-sized doorway still provided the only source of illumination for its dingy interior. The burble of rough voices in a dozen dialects provided an aural backdrop for the scene. Towards the back of the room, where a doorway led further into the tavern, a worn circular wooden board had been hung on the wall. Two bare-armed men were taking it in turns to flick their knives at the target, which was decorated with a passable drawing of the profile of a great draconian head, its baleful eye dead centre. One particularly lopsided throw caused a waitress emerging from the back room to scream "Watch out!" as the knife scythed into the doorframe next to her.
Denning was standing at the bar, wiping mugs clean. The tattooed bartender squinted as he saw Holler and Lir enter. Dozens of different sailors passed through his establishment every day, and he couldn't be expected to recognise them all... but this one was very tall, green, and had performed an impressive bow the last time the pair met. This meant that it didn't take long for the man's memory to be jogged. "Yer Excellentness the Ambassader!" he greeted Holler cheerfully. "An' this would be yer... er... Diplermatic Associate," he added with a nod to Lir. "So what can I getcha?"
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Who knew there could be such a heat like this?
Brann had been amazed by the activity and variety of the docks in Sabata, by the strange domed architecture and the darkly tanned peoples. The accents were strange, and the clothing as well. Even the ships in the harbour looked different from those that graced the Citadel. But all those awe-inspiring sights and sounds faded within a handful of burns once the heat set in.
Soon after his vision had narrowed, making him oblivious to anything by the next cooling patch of shade, the next corner where a snatch of breeze might be found. After what seemed an eternity in the oven, Brann stumbled through a welcoming doorway and found himself in some sort of tavern. It mattered little to the achadhiel, for all he cared about was the soothing coolness of the place. He wandered deeper into the tavern, away from the heat seeping around the cracks of the door and toward the rear where a couple of toughs were tossing knives none too steadily at the board hung on the wall. Letting his vision expand once again, Brann glanced at the clientele and began judging opportunities, as he always did in such establishments. That habit was reason he had come to Sabata, as a matter of fact. But he continued anyway.
He was safely at the rear of the tavern, scanning the crowd while cooling off his overheated frame, when the door opened again and let the cursed heat into the room. Scowling beneath dark brows, Brann looked away from the bright outside and waited for the door to shut again before examining the newcomers. And the one he could see stopped his heart, if only for a flicker. It was a large green-skinned hulk, an orc if he recalled correctly. Strange enough to a foreign achadhiel, but even more coincidental was the fact he had seen one on the open sea, on a ship his own transport had encountered. Could it be the same creature?
Brann moved almost involuntarily, trying to get a better glimpse of the orc through the dim tavern. And in doing so, he made himself prey to the knives of the competitors at the dragon board. With a toss that made their earlier scare of the waitress seem the barest miss, Brann took the flying blade across his left forearm, slicing through his shirt and quickly turning the deep blue material black with blood.
"By Krynn's fingers!" gasped Brann, clutching at his wounded arm as the knife clattered to the floor. "Do I look like a dragon to you?"
As his life's essence spattered on the floor, running between clutched fingers, Brann began to think he might be in some trouble. He'd suffered the usual scrapes, bruises and bumps anyone did in life, but this was his first knife injury beyond a nick. Anger was replaced with the first traces of worry, and he cast his dark eyes about the tavern.
"Is there a healer here? Does anyone know about binding knife cuts?"
Brann had been amazed by the activity and variety of the docks in Sabata, by the strange domed architecture and the darkly tanned peoples. The accents were strange, and the clothing as well. Even the ships in the harbour looked different from those that graced the Citadel. But all those awe-inspiring sights and sounds faded within a handful of burns once the heat set in.
Soon after his vision had narrowed, making him oblivious to anything by the next cooling patch of shade, the next corner where a snatch of breeze might be found. After what seemed an eternity in the oven, Brann stumbled through a welcoming doorway and found himself in some sort of tavern. It mattered little to the achadhiel, for all he cared about was the soothing coolness of the place. He wandered deeper into the tavern, away from the heat seeping around the cracks of the door and toward the rear where a couple of toughs were tossing knives none too steadily at the board hung on the wall. Letting his vision expand once again, Brann glanced at the clientele and began judging opportunities, as he always did in such establishments. That habit was reason he had come to Sabata, as a matter of fact. But he continued anyway.
He was safely at the rear of the tavern, scanning the crowd while cooling off his overheated frame, when the door opened again and let the cursed heat into the room. Scowling beneath dark brows, Brann looked away from the bright outside and waited for the door to shut again before examining the newcomers. And the one he could see stopped his heart, if only for a flicker. It was a large green-skinned hulk, an orc if he recalled correctly. Strange enough to a foreign achadhiel, but even more coincidental was the fact he had seen one on the open sea, on a ship his own transport had encountered. Could it be the same creature?
Brann moved almost involuntarily, trying to get a better glimpse of the orc through the dim tavern. And in doing so, he made himself prey to the knives of the competitors at the dragon board. With a toss that made their earlier scare of the waitress seem the barest miss, Brann took the flying blade across his left forearm, slicing through his shirt and quickly turning the deep blue material black with blood.
"By Krynn's fingers!" gasped Brann, clutching at his wounded arm as the knife clattered to the floor. "Do I look like a dragon to you?"
As his life's essence spattered on the floor, running between clutched fingers, Brann began to think he might be in some trouble. He'd suffered the usual scrapes, bruises and bumps anyone did in life, but this was his first knife injury beyond a nick. Anger was replaced with the first traces of worry, and he cast his dark eyes about the tavern.
"Is there a healer here? Does anyone know about binding knife cuts?"
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Lir Calysta Markby
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This is the last time I take Holler's word for it. She thought to herself as she followed the orc in the stinking establishment trying not to gag from all the fierce odours that crepted up to try to wreak havoc on her olfactory nerves.
A brow rose as the bartender seemed to recognise Holler and again that concern swept over her as he spoke nonsense to Holler and towards her. "Do you have some food in this establishment? If so, what do you recommend? Also, if you have anything cool to drink, I shall have one of those too..."
"Is there a healer here? Does anyone know about binding knife cuts?" Was heard despite the noises by the tavern's patrons.
Lir looked about to pinpoint the location of the voice and looked at the bartender then towards Holler. "If you could hold the order, I'll be right back."
After that being said and done, the healer tried to head towards where she believed the voice came from to see what the problem was. "Who needs a healer?" She called out to hear the voice again. It was just like a game of Marco Polo.
A brow rose as the bartender seemed to recognise Holler and again that concern swept over her as he spoke nonsense to Holler and towards her. "Do you have some food in this establishment? If so, what do you recommend? Also, if you have anything cool to drink, I shall have one of those too..."
"Is there a healer here? Does anyone know about binding knife cuts?" Was heard despite the noises by the tavern's patrons.
Lir looked about to pinpoint the location of the voice and looked at the bartender then towards Holler. "If you could hold the order, I'll be right back."
After that being said and done, the healer tried to head towards where she believed the voice came from to see what the problem was. "Who needs a healer?" She called out to hear the voice again. It was just like a game of Marco Polo.
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Brann cursed softly as he stepped away from the grossly inaccurate, or perhaps just inordinately drunk, knife tossers to ensure his safety. His right hand coated crimson and leaving a spattered trail in his wake, the dark-haired achadhiel wove his way between the tables in search of assistance.
"Who needs a healer?"
His curved ears pricked up at the response to his plea, and he looked up from the mess of his arm in search of the owner of that voice. Who had spoken?
"Over here," he called out again, this time remaining alert to another response, his onyx eyes roving over those assembled in the tavern. "Cut and bleeding all over the floor, over here!"
"Who needs a healer?"
His curved ears pricked up at the response to his plea, and he looked up from the mess of his arm in search of the owner of that voice. Who had spoken?
"Over here," he called out again, this time remaining alert to another response, his onyx eyes roving over those assembled in the tavern. "Cut and bleeding all over the floor, over here!"
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Lir Calysta Markby
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A violet eye searched for the owner of the voice, her eyes finally adjusting to the darker room and noticed a black-haired achadhiel with a sliced forearm and frowned as she made her way over to Brann. "Let me see your arm." She said gruffily expecting him to obey.
He would see a figure dressed in leather pants, jerkin, and a fitted bodice that defined her curves labeling her as female. A billowy white cotton shirt to cover exposed skin from the harsh sun, and black dusty leather boots seemed to complete the ensemble. He would also notice a black eye patch over her left eye. Her hair blue-black waves was tied up and concealed by a bandana which was wrapped around her head.
She waited for the man to give her the opportunity to look at how deep the cut was and would also untie her bandana to use as a tourniquet once the arm was given over for examination.
If and when that happened, Lir would make her way back over to where she left Holler and her food so she could have better light, alcohol for the stranger, and she hoped the bartender wouldn't mind a quick surgery to sew up the wound.
He would see a figure dressed in leather pants, jerkin, and a fitted bodice that defined her curves labeling her as female. A billowy white cotton shirt to cover exposed skin from the harsh sun, and black dusty leather boots seemed to complete the ensemble. He would also notice a black eye patch over her left eye. Her hair blue-black waves was tied up and concealed by a bandana which was wrapped around her head.
She waited for the man to give her the opportunity to look at how deep the cut was and would also untie her bandana to use as a tourniquet once the arm was given over for examination.
If and when that happened, Lir would make her way back over to where she left Holler and her food so she could have better light, alcohol for the stranger, and she hoped the bartender wouldn't mind a quick surgery to sew up the wound.
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"Pleased to make your acquaintance, too," said Brann, unable to suppress a small smile despite his situation. "You'll understand if I don't shake hands."
But he got the impression that this young woman was not given to idle banter, so rather than tempt fate while he was bleeding out, he instead offered up his left arm without waiting for a response. Unclamping his right hand, stained in crimson, he uncovered the wound for her to examine.
When she bent to the task, Brann took the opportunity to observe her. That she was attractive there was no doubt, not even the loose blouse could hide that fact. But it was the eye patch that really caught his attention. He didn't imagine that too many people would have such an accessory, and he had only seen such a thing once before. On a ship, in the middle of the ocean.
When the woman removed her bandana for the tourniquet, all doubt was removed from Brann's mind. As her hair fell in blue-black waves, he knew this was the lady from the ship. He stood trying to control his gaping, wondering what the odds were of such an occurrence. An irrational fear gripped him for a flicker and he sensed that shadow of Ithrainne looming over him, twisting fortune for Her own indecipherable purposes. But then the moment passed and his fear dissipated into the air like the heat shimmering from the rocks outside.
Brann followed the woman back to the bar, to where the large orc waited. The dark-haired achadhiel eyed him speculatively, admittedly anxious about what the woman's acquaintance could do to him with little more than a brush of his hand. Focus, you fool, he berated himself. The lady will bind your wound, and the orc will just stand there politely.
"Do you need me to do anything more than just stand here?" he asked the woman, hoping the nervousness was absent from his voice.
But he got the impression that this young woman was not given to idle banter, so rather than tempt fate while he was bleeding out, he instead offered up his left arm without waiting for a response. Unclamping his right hand, stained in crimson, he uncovered the wound for her to examine.
When she bent to the task, Brann took the opportunity to observe her. That she was attractive there was no doubt, not even the loose blouse could hide that fact. But it was the eye patch that really caught his attention. He didn't imagine that too many people would have such an accessory, and he had only seen such a thing once before. On a ship, in the middle of the ocean.
When the woman removed her bandana for the tourniquet, all doubt was removed from Brann's mind. As her hair fell in blue-black waves, he knew this was the lady from the ship. He stood trying to control his gaping, wondering what the odds were of such an occurrence. An irrational fear gripped him for a flicker and he sensed that shadow of Ithrainne looming over him, twisting fortune for Her own indecipherable purposes. But then the moment passed and his fear dissipated into the air like the heat shimmering from the rocks outside.
Brann followed the woman back to the bar, to where the large orc waited. The dark-haired achadhiel eyed him speculatively, admittedly anxious about what the woman's acquaintance could do to him with little more than a brush of his hand. Focus, you fool, he berated himself. The lady will bind your wound, and the orc will just stand there politely.
"Do you need me to do anything more than just stand here?" he asked the woman, hoping the nervousness was absent from his voice.
"Food?" It clearly wasn't a request that the bartender was used to hearing. "Can do you some fish broth, if you like... Marty!" he hollered towards the back of the room. "Two bowls of broth. Er... make them plenty big." Any response, however, was lost in the confusion that followed a blade hurtling through the air and slicing through the flesh of Brann.
"Cruk." The local obscenity wasn't slow in slipping from the lips of the knife-thrower who hadn't injured Brann, and he inhaled sharply. The other man, shorter and wirier, whose knife had done the damage, wasn't so repentant, instead growling "Watch where you put yer limbs."
"Is there a healer here? Does anyone know about binding knife cuts?"
"I've warned you two swabs before!" Denning grated loudly, glaring at the two bare-armed men. "If ya can't keep yer throwin' to the board, ya can haul your scurvy arses out of my pub! Go on, get!"
The shorter man mumbled something derogatory in response and turned back to his drink and his knives. Denning emitted a sound halfway between a growl and a sigh. His eyes suddenly lighting on Holler and his face lit up into a half-smile. "Hey, mister ambassader, ya wouldn't mind doing me a favour, would ya?" he asked in a lower voice. "I need someone to turf those two drebi-ferkit bilge hounds outta my establishment." He pointed to the two knife-throwers. "An' yer order's on the house, if you do it. As much drink as ye want. They damn near took the head off of one of my waitresses this morningtide."
The bartender didn't seem to mind his bar being used as a makeshift operating table, although its state of cleanliness left much to be desired.
"Cruk." The local obscenity wasn't slow in slipping from the lips of the knife-thrower who hadn't injured Brann, and he inhaled sharply. The other man, shorter and wirier, whose knife had done the damage, wasn't so repentant, instead growling "Watch where you put yer limbs."
"Is there a healer here? Does anyone know about binding knife cuts?"
"I've warned you two swabs before!" Denning grated loudly, glaring at the two bare-armed men. "If ya can't keep yer throwin' to the board, ya can haul your scurvy arses out of my pub! Go on, get!"
The shorter man mumbled something derogatory in response and turned back to his drink and his knives. Denning emitted a sound halfway between a growl and a sigh. His eyes suddenly lighting on Holler and his face lit up into a half-smile. "Hey, mister ambassader, ya wouldn't mind doing me a favour, would ya?" he asked in a lower voice. "I need someone to turf those two drebi-ferkit bilge hounds outta my establishment." He pointed to the two knife-throwers. "An' yer order's on the house, if you do it. As much drink as ye want. They damn near took the head off of one of my waitresses this morningtide."
The bartender didn't seem to mind his bar being used as a makeshift operating table, although its state of cleanliness left much to be desired.
[size=84][i]"She told me I had too much to dream last night..."[/i] - [i]Apprentice of the Universe[/i], Pure Reason Revolution
Avatar by [url=http://pixieface.deviantart.com]Liz Green[/url][/size]
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Lir Calysta Markby
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Lir looked at Brann with a bored if not a slightly annoyed look and awaited for the offered arm. When he gave it to her, she made sure to use the handkerchief to tighten it efficiently to slow down the bleeding.
It was a good thing the stranger did not struggle as he was lead towards the bar. When he asked if she needed him to do anything, her violet eye studied his face before replying, "This is going to hurt as much as a bitch giving pups."
At this point the bartender was arguing with the two that caused the injury just to ask Holler for a favor to clear the vermin out. She looked towards the orc wondering if he would do it and if he didn't she might consider it.
When Brann and Lir reached the bar, she placed his arm on the bar and got a knife to rip the rest of the bloodied sleeve out of the way to see how bad it looked. If it was superficial she would just rinse it out and bandage it up to keep it clean until it healed. If it was a deep cut, she would need to stop the bleeding with fire and sew it up.
"Alcohol, bartender. Something strong!" She called out and looked towards Brann. "You might want some for yourself as well." The healer recommended as she started pulling out what bandages she had. Needle, thread, and left over salve for the orc's own wounds. "Any boiling water as well?"
It was a good thing the stranger did not struggle as he was lead towards the bar. When he asked if she needed him to do anything, her violet eye studied his face before replying, "This is going to hurt as much as a bitch giving pups."
At this point the bartender was arguing with the two that caused the injury just to ask Holler for a favor to clear the vermin out. She looked towards the orc wondering if he would do it and if he didn't she might consider it.
When Brann and Lir reached the bar, she placed his arm on the bar and got a knife to rip the rest of the bloodied sleeve out of the way to see how bad it looked. If it was superficial she would just rinse it out and bandage it up to keep it clean until it healed. If it was a deep cut, she would need to stop the bleeding with fire and sew it up.
"Alcohol, bartender. Something strong!" She called out and looked towards Brann. "You might want some for yourself as well." The healer recommended as she started pulling out what bandages she had. Needle, thread, and left over salve for the orc's own wounds. "Any boiling water as well?"
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Glad that he'd been able to locate his previous watering hole, Holler snorted as the unmistakable aroma assaulted his nose. Yep, that would be it! Much like Sabata harbor, the ale house seemed unchanged, much to the Orc's relief. As the two of them strolled up to the counter, he saw recognition blossom into Denning's eyes. Physically unable to replicate the now renowned bow, he slapped the bar's top with the flat of his hand. "Alehouse Prince!" The healer's mention of food, reminded him of the state of his belly, and he nodded his consent. "A cool, tall'un would be nice with the food!" Squinting at his companion he reluctantly added: "Make that two, then."
As Lir responded to the distress call from beyond the crowd, Holler shrugged and tried to direct the barkeep's attention back to his order of ale. Brann returned to the bar with the one eyed woman. Despite the smell of nervousness that cloaked him the dark half elf didn't pique the tall Orc's interest. Something more blonde was on his mind. His earlier resolve had dissolved as soon as the sharp scent of ale had started to court his green nostrils.
Holler Sleipnir followed the exchange between Denning and the two annoying knife jugglers. After his earlier brush with strategic thinking, he surmised that relieving the bartender of those lice in his pelt, might speed up service considerably. So, more to achieve his own goals - albeit suddenly free goals - the bulky Orc nodded at the man with a toothy grin. With a groan, he rose. Looking at Denning he said: "You can call me Holler. You know, regality amongst each other and all. I'll give you a paw with those two. After all what are friends for, eh?"
Without further ado, he lumbered over to where the two were loitering about. Halting withing arm's reach of the duo, he bowed and growled: "Gentilemen, master send me. Says has good business for you." After a fat wink, he went on: "Lots of golds." His right hand he waved about at eye level of the two bilge hounds. "Pile this tall!" Quickly he turned about, as if heading for the door. "You come? Boss outside. Talk where ears have not walls, eh?" Again he grinned his toothy smile, inherently threatening as only an Orc can smile.
As Lir responded to the distress call from beyond the crowd, Holler shrugged and tried to direct the barkeep's attention back to his order of ale. Brann returned to the bar with the one eyed woman. Despite the smell of nervousness that cloaked him the dark half elf didn't pique the tall Orc's interest. Something more blonde was on his mind. His earlier resolve had dissolved as soon as the sharp scent of ale had started to court his green nostrils.
Holler Sleipnir followed the exchange between Denning and the two annoying knife jugglers. After his earlier brush with strategic thinking, he surmised that relieving the bartender of those lice in his pelt, might speed up service considerably. So, more to achieve his own goals - albeit suddenly free goals - the bulky Orc nodded at the man with a toothy grin. With a groan, he rose. Looking at Denning he said: "You can call me Holler. You know, regality amongst each other and all. I'll give you a paw with those two. After all what are friends for, eh?"
Without further ado, he lumbered over to where the two were loitering about. Halting withing arm's reach of the duo, he bowed and growled: "Gentilemen, master send me. Says has good business for you." After a fat wink, he went on: "Lots of golds." His right hand he waved about at eye level of the two bilge hounds. "Pile this tall!" Quickly he turned about, as if heading for the door. "You come? Boss outside. Talk where ears have not walls, eh?" Again he grinned his toothy smile, inherently threatening as only an Orc can smile.
A bitch giving pups? Brann had never watched one of those miraculous events, but with the tone his fated healer used to describe it he was not encouraged. He gathered that meant it was going to hurt - a lot.
Over at the bar, his onyx eyes widened as Lir drew a knife. When he realized it was just to cut away his sleeve he relaxed slightly, but he was beginning to realize that medicine was an ugly business. For the second time in as many burns he felt the shadow of Ithrainne hanging nearby, and a soft shudder slipped down his spine. Even when Holler moved off to deal with the knife throwing toughs, Brann still felt uneasy.
Alcohol sounded good just then for any number of reasons, and Brann readily agreed to the woman's suggestion. "You are a lady indeed. I'd be happy to share a shot with you," he smiled, using Lir's beauty, if not her sunny disposition, to distract himself from the impending pain.
"But it wouldn't be polite without introducing myself first," he continued with the self-deception and keeping his eyes off his arm. "My name is Brann, and I'm new in town. How about yourself?"
Over at the bar, his onyx eyes widened as Lir drew a knife. When he realized it was just to cut away his sleeve he relaxed slightly, but he was beginning to realize that medicine was an ugly business. For the second time in as many burns he felt the shadow of Ithrainne hanging nearby, and a soft shudder slipped down his spine. Even when Holler moved off to deal with the knife throwing toughs, Brann still felt uneasy.
Alcohol sounded good just then for any number of reasons, and Brann readily agreed to the woman's suggestion. "You are a lady indeed. I'd be happy to share a shot with you," he smiled, using Lir's beauty, if not her sunny disposition, to distract himself from the impending pain.
"But it wouldn't be polite without introducing myself first," he continued with the self-deception and keeping his eyes off his arm. "My name is Brann, and I'm new in town. How about yourself?"
At Lir's request for alcohol, Denning frowned, then reached under the bar, withdrawing an unlabelled bottle of clear liquid and placing it roughly onto the bar next to Brann as if serving a simple drink. When the top was removed, the heavy scent of the beverage within was evidence enough that it contained a ridiculous percentage of alcohol, although a touch of spice could also be detected. "Dragon's Tears," he said by way of explanation. "Don't use more'n ya need, if you can avoid it."
The cut on Brann's arm was indeed deep, down to the bone at one point, although no muscles or tendons appeared to have been severed by the throw. It was still bleeding readily, and several drops had seeped past the handkerchief to splash onto the floor of the pub where they mingled with various older, drier stains.
Both of the knife-throwers stiffened at Holler's approach, but relaxed somewhat once they heard what he had to say. The shorter man, whose breath reeked of ale, even sneered up at the imposing figure, absently wiping the blood off the knife that had caused the damage against his breeches. "If ye have sumthin' ta tell us, ye can tell us here," he growled in response. "These're the deafest four walls in the city. An' if ye have gold fer us, ye can give it us here, where we can spend it."
"Striler," the taller man said in a cautious, warning tone, placing a restraining hand on his companion's arm, but Striler shook it off and continued.
"An' what sorta master sends a damn orc to deliver his messages, anyhow?"
The cut on Brann's arm was indeed deep, down to the bone at one point, although no muscles or tendons appeared to have been severed by the throw. It was still bleeding readily, and several drops had seeped past the handkerchief to splash onto the floor of the pub where they mingled with various older, drier stains.
Both of the knife-throwers stiffened at Holler's approach, but relaxed somewhat once they heard what he had to say. The shorter man, whose breath reeked of ale, even sneered up at the imposing figure, absently wiping the blood off the knife that had caused the damage against his breeches. "If ye have sumthin' ta tell us, ye can tell us here," he growled in response. "These're the deafest four walls in the city. An' if ye have gold fer us, ye can give it us here, where we can spend it."
"Striler," the taller man said in a cautious, warning tone, placing a restraining hand on his companion's arm, but Striler shook it off and continued.
"An' what sorta master sends a damn orc to deliver his messages, anyhow?"
[size=84][i]"She told me I had too much to dream last night..."[/i] - [i]Apprentice of the Universe[/i], Pure Reason Revolution
Avatar by [url=http://pixieface.deviantart.com]Liz Green[/url][/size]
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Lir Calysta Markby
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- Posts: 226
- Joined: Sun May 07, 2006 1:32 am
A violet eye watched as Holler went off to cause some trouble. She knew the orc could handle it and concentrated on the task at hand. The healer studied the man that smiled at her and looked slightly confused. "Well seeing that I am wearing clothes that is causing my insides to melt, I must be a new comer as well. Name's Lir."
When Denning placed the bottle on the bar, she looked at Brann once again, "Take a pull or two." Lir stated gruffily as she offered the drink to Brann in order to numb his senses. What she was about to do next will probably cause him to pass out. "You aren't going to like me very much. The cut's deep. It'll need to be cleaned out and...well I suggest you brace yourself."
She looked wondered if the barkeep heard her request on some boiling water and it seemed she didn't have a way to start a fire. This impromptu surgical table was not cutting it. "Barkeep...can I have some boiling water...and is it possible to set this knife to glow red from a fire perhaps from where that broth is being kept hot?" She tried to ask a bit nicer knowing she was already pushing the limits. "Please?" As she jingled a couple of coins that she actually had in a small makeshift pouch which wasn't sewn into any of her clothes.
When Denning placed the bottle on the bar, she looked at Brann once again, "Take a pull or two." Lir stated gruffily as she offered the drink to Brann in order to numb his senses. What she was about to do next will probably cause him to pass out. "You aren't going to like me very much. The cut's deep. It'll need to be cleaned out and...well I suggest you brace yourself."
She looked wondered if the barkeep heard her request on some boiling water and it seemed she didn't have a way to start a fire. This impromptu surgical table was not cutting it. "Barkeep...can I have some boiling water...and is it possible to set this knife to glow red from a fire perhaps from where that broth is being kept hot?" She tried to ask a bit nicer knowing she was already pushing the limits. "Please?" As she jingled a couple of coins that she actually had in a small makeshift pouch which wasn't sewn into any of her clothes.
Beautiful avatar by [url=http://nairohe.deviantart.com/]Nairohe![/url] ^_^
The dark-haired achadhiel couldn't mask a flinch as Lir probed the wound, his attempt to distract himself from the pain rudely interrupted by the plain fact that his arm really hurt! Sliding his good hand across the top of the bar to keep it steady, he collected the small glass of liquor in his nimble fingers and closed his eyes before downing the drink in one swift gulp.
With tears shimmering at the corner of his onyx eyes, Brann swallowed hard against the spicy burn that trailed down his gullet and nodded to Lir for a second glass. He had that one firmly in hand when Lir started taking about boiling water again, and then heating a knife, and suddenly the glass seemed very, very important.
"Glowing red?" he asked a little weakly, his face ashen beneath his light tan. "Surely...surely you can just sew this up? There's no need for such, such lengths, is there?"
Before Lir could answer, Brann swallowed the second glass of Dragon's Tears and then wiped at the corners of his eyes. The pit of his stomach felt like it was glowing itself, but he found little courage sprang from the sensation. Meeting the gruff healer's pretty eyes, he searched with small hope for any sign she was overstating the need.
With tears shimmering at the corner of his onyx eyes, Brann swallowed hard against the spicy burn that trailed down his gullet and nodded to Lir for a second glass. He had that one firmly in hand when Lir started taking about boiling water again, and then heating a knife, and suddenly the glass seemed very, very important.
"Glowing red?" he asked a little weakly, his face ashen beneath his light tan. "Surely...surely you can just sew this up? There's no need for such, such lengths, is there?"
Before Lir could answer, Brann swallowed the second glass of Dragon's Tears and then wiped at the corners of his eyes. The pit of his stomach felt like it was glowing itself, but he found little courage sprang from the sensation. Meeting the gruff healer's pretty eyes, he searched with small hope for any sign she was overstating the need.
[OOC: Hi folks! Hope you don't mind if I crash the party as well]
The half-giant Sweeney had been taking a tradetide stroll near the harbor, watching the energetic bustle of commerce in action and wondering if it might be best if he climbed aboard one of those great ships and kept running from his past. He'd arrived in Sabata a few days earlier as part of an Eastern Sands caravan, and had been in town long enough to start worrying about finding work and his prospects for the future.
While wandering the harbor district, caught sight of the unusual couple of Lir and Holler. Even in the stunning diversity of the port city, the pairing of a one-eyed woman and an orc was enough to cause a double-take. But what really caught Sweeney's attention was the fact that he felt sure he had seen both of them back on Pan's Isle. Despite the bad memories that conjured up, the coincidence piqued Sweeney's curiosity enough that he followed after the pair and saw them duck into a particularly seedy looking dive bar whose stench stood out even among the carnival of unpleasant odors that made up the harbor's atmosphere. This caused him several flickers of hesitation. After his excesses following the war, Sweeney had been sober for almost a month now. If the trials of the desert crossing accomplished nothing else, they'd burned the desire for alcohol out of his system, but he wasn't sure he wanted to test his resolve just yet. Still, he was both bored and curious. Taking one last gulp of reasonably clear air, Sweeney stopped and stepped into the tavern.
Once his eyes had adjusted to the dim light, he found the strange scene of a bloodied Brann sprawled across the bar, tended by the one-eyed healer, while the orc was conducting some kind of negotiations with a couple of rough-looking characters across the room. I sure know how to pick taverns, don't I? joked the half-giant to himself. Then he quickly approached the bar. "What happenin' here?" he asked the barkeep before following up with an offer of assistance: "Ya need a hand?"
The half-giant Sweeney had been taking a tradetide stroll near the harbor, watching the energetic bustle of commerce in action and wondering if it might be best if he climbed aboard one of those great ships and kept running from his past. He'd arrived in Sabata a few days earlier as part of an Eastern Sands caravan, and had been in town long enough to start worrying about finding work and his prospects for the future.
While wandering the harbor district, caught sight of the unusual couple of Lir and Holler. Even in the stunning diversity of the port city, the pairing of a one-eyed woman and an orc was enough to cause a double-take. But what really caught Sweeney's attention was the fact that he felt sure he had seen both of them back on Pan's Isle. Despite the bad memories that conjured up, the coincidence piqued Sweeney's curiosity enough that he followed after the pair and saw them duck into a particularly seedy looking dive bar whose stench stood out even among the carnival of unpleasant odors that made up the harbor's atmosphere. This caused him several flickers of hesitation. After his excesses following the war, Sweeney had been sober for almost a month now. If the trials of the desert crossing accomplished nothing else, they'd burned the desire for alcohol out of his system, but he wasn't sure he wanted to test his resolve just yet. Still, he was both bored and curious. Taking one last gulp of reasonably clear air, Sweeney stopped and stepped into the tavern.
Once his eyes had adjusted to the dim light, he found the strange scene of a bloodied Brann sprawled across the bar, tended by the one-eyed healer, while the orc was conducting some kind of negotiations with a couple of rough-looking characters across the room. I sure know how to pick taverns, don't I? joked the half-giant to himself. Then he quickly approached the bar. "What happenin' here?" he asked the barkeep before following up with an offer of assistance: "Ya need a hand?"
'Apeneck Sweeney spreads his knees / Letting his arms hang down to laugh
The zebra stripes along his jaw / Swelling to maculate giraffe.'
--T.S. Eliot
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The zebra stripes along his jaw / Swelling to maculate giraffe.'
--T.S. Eliot
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Holler Sleipnir's attention was solely on the two rogues at the table. It'd better be as well, as one of'em still handled bare metal. The towering Orc felt that whenever he let his guard down, he might be next in line to receive the dagger's unwelcome attentions.
His ruse didn't have the most desirable effect of convincing the bile-holes to follow him outside, but it now placed him within striking distance. Still, he was at a disadvantage as Striler had his knife at the ready; Holler had not. It didn't worry him too much, as only the pointy end would likely be able to hurt him badly. Orc skin, after all, was known for it's toughness.
Actually the muddy green sailor was savouring the man's responses. His first attempt to settle the problem calmly didn't sit well with his character. His time as an officer had opened his mind for tactical decisions, and although they seemed sensible at times, he didn't enjoy them. Breaking limbs and caving in skulls was much easier and more satisfying - it didn't require his brain to function either.
So, with a relieved sigh, Holler grinned down at the duo. "Master 'as gold. Me only messe...messeng... Me only talk, invite." Shuffling a bit closer to the table a strong green hand gripped the back of one of the empty chairs. "Mind me sit? Can tell more. Master said..." The last sentence went unfinished as the bulky Orc swung the chair over and around the table chin high. The arc started just before Striler's stubbly chin and swept along hard towards his companion's. Lightning quick reactions - preferably not dulled by booze - would probably save them. Sleipnir - with a diluted battle awareness sharpening his senses - tunnel visioned on his opponents, ready for anything.
His ruse didn't have the most desirable effect of convincing the bile-holes to follow him outside, but it now placed him within striking distance. Still, he was at a disadvantage as Striler had his knife at the ready; Holler had not. It didn't worry him too much, as only the pointy end would likely be able to hurt him badly. Orc skin, after all, was known for it's toughness.
Actually the muddy green sailor was savouring the man's responses. His first attempt to settle the problem calmly didn't sit well with his character. His time as an officer had opened his mind for tactical decisions, and although they seemed sensible at times, he didn't enjoy them. Breaking limbs and caving in skulls was much easier and more satisfying - it didn't require his brain to function either.
So, with a relieved sigh, Holler grinned down at the duo. "Master 'as gold. Me only messe...messeng... Me only talk, invite." Shuffling a bit closer to the table a strong green hand gripped the back of one of the empty chairs. "Mind me sit? Can tell more. Master said..." The last sentence went unfinished as the bulky Orc swung the chair over and around the table chin high. The arc started just before Striler's stubbly chin and swept along hard towards his companion's. Lightning quick reactions - preferably not dulled by booze - would probably save them. Sleipnir - with a diluted battle awareness sharpening his senses - tunnel visioned on his opponents, ready for anything.
Last edited by Guest on Mon Apr 09, 2007 8:06 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Lir Calysta Markby
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- Joined: Sun May 07, 2006 1:32 am
Lir looked at Brann as her eye brow rose. "It is needed to stop the bleeding." She replied back. "The sewing comes after." The healer took the rest of the alcohol for herself. "Rocksteady now sir." Her voice went for calming. "It'll be over as quickly as it started." She had a feeling the best thing for anyone that would receive a glowing knife against a bleeding wound would be to pass out.
Then she heard a rather large voice asking if a hand was needed and she looked up to see a half giant. The ship healer grinned and called out. "Yes, if you believe to be strong enough. I'll need you to keep Brann here steady. With the alcohol and what I'm about to do, I think he may lose his footing."
Then she heard a rather large voice asking if a hand was needed and she looked up to see a half giant. The ship healer grinned and called out. "Yes, if you believe to be strong enough. I'll need you to keep Brann here steady. With the alcohol and what I'm about to do, I think he may lose his footing."
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Sweeney smiled back at Lir when the one-eyed healer accepted his offer to help. Sizing up the patient, a slim achadhiel who might weigh a third as much as the half-giant, he smiled more broadly. "Yeah, I think I can keep'im still." With that he placed a couple of calloused paws and a not-incosiderable portion of his weight on Brann to pin him against the bar. "You don't move, OK?" he advised the patient, as if the half-elf had any choice in the matter.
'Apeneck Sweeney spreads his knees / Letting his arms hang down to laugh
The zebra stripes along his jaw / Swelling to maculate giraffe.'
--T.S. Eliot
Avatar by Obey Giant
The zebra stripes along his jaw / Swelling to maculate giraffe.'
--T.S. Eliot
Avatar by Obey Giant
"Hey now, what's this?" asked Brann in an angry and slightly panicky voice, as the bulk of Sweeney settled around him. The slight achadhiel was a creature of rooftops, of air, of freedom, and being so effectively constrained generated a fear unlike any other in him.
The shadow of Ithrainne indeed! She had sent this behemoth to hold Brann to his punishment, called to the bar to pay for his failings in the Citadel. Capricious, that was Her in a nutshell. He could almost hear her tinkling laughter over the din and the half-giant's powerful voice.
Brann's onyx orbs swivelled from Lir to Sweeney and back, desperation leaking into his gaze and voice. "No really, get off! I'm sure it will all stop on it's own. Just bandage me up and I'll be on my way." As the achadhiel struggled ineffectively against Sweeney's strength, he kept watching for the telltale orange glow to appear in the corner of his eye...
The shadow of Ithrainne indeed! She had sent this behemoth to hold Brann to his punishment, called to the bar to pay for his failings in the Citadel. Capricious, that was Her in a nutshell. He could almost hear her tinkling laughter over the din and the half-giant's powerful voice.
Brann's onyx orbs swivelled from Lir to Sweeney and back, desperation leaking into his gaze and voice. "No really, get off! I'm sure it will all stop on it's own. Just bandage me up and I'll be on my way." As the achadhiel struggled ineffectively against Sweeney's strength, he kept watching for the telltale orange glow to appear in the corner of his eye...
It was really Sweeney's intention to hold Brann still so the healer could do her work. He was no physician, but he'd seen enough accidents in the circus to know that an injured patient was often a hazard to both himself and others. "You don't move and let the lady do her work," he advised firmly.
However, it was about this moment that Sweeney heard the crashing of furniture behind him as Holler launched his attack on the two knife-throwers. The former pugilist's own combat insticts took over, and he released his grip on the bleeding achadhiel and spun on one foot to face the source of the commotion, fists already clenched and muscles tensed for a fight.
However, it was about this moment that Sweeney heard the crashing of furniture behind him as Holler launched his attack on the two knife-throwers. The former pugilist's own combat insticts took over, and he released his grip on the bleeding achadhiel and spun on one foot to face the source of the commotion, fists already clenched and muscles tensed for a fight.
Last edited by Sweeney on Mon Apr 09, 2007 3:37 am, edited 1 time in total.
'Apeneck Sweeney spreads his knees / Letting his arms hang down to laugh
The zebra stripes along his jaw / Swelling to maculate giraffe.'
--T.S. Eliot
Avatar by Obey Giant
The zebra stripes along his jaw / Swelling to maculate giraffe.'
--T.S. Eliot
Avatar by Obey Giant
Denning's frown deepened as Lir made further requests. This was already shaping up to be a very bad tradetide, but he didn't want to annoy anyone who was friends with an orc and a half-giant. The chink of coin decided it. "Ira!" he called to the nearest waitress. "Leave them dogs and get me some boilin' water." He passed the knife to her, too. "An' heat this till it glows." The waitress looked at the implement nervously, but hurried through into the back room to comply.
Sweeney's intervention in the brawl with the knife-throwers proved unnecessary, as it was over almost before it started. All conversation was stilled as the chair noisily made savage contact with Striler's face. The short man was caught completely unprepared, the force of the blow knocking him off his feet, a clinking sound signifying the fall of his dagger and something else metallic dropping from a hidden pocket. His unconscious body was flung backwards and collided with his companion. This was possibly all that saved the taller man from being hit by the swing of the chair, as he tumbled down to the left, the chair leg missing his forehead by a fingerwidth. In an unsteady crouch against the side wall of the bar, just out of Holler's arm's reach, he spread his palms in surrender, panting hard. "Shit!" he gasped, trying to edge away towards the exit. "Didn't want trouble... honest, big guy... please, jus' let me go 'n I won't be back. Striler here just don't know when ta stop."
The waitress, Ira, emerged at that moment with the heated knife, the handle held delicately in a stained dishcloth, and a jug of steaming water, placing both items on the bar surface next to Brann.
Sweeney's intervention in the brawl with the knife-throwers proved unnecessary, as it was over almost before it started. All conversation was stilled as the chair noisily made savage contact with Striler's face. The short man was caught completely unprepared, the force of the blow knocking him off his feet, a clinking sound signifying the fall of his dagger and something else metallic dropping from a hidden pocket. His unconscious body was flung backwards and collided with his companion. This was possibly all that saved the taller man from being hit by the swing of the chair, as he tumbled down to the left, the chair leg missing his forehead by a fingerwidth. In an unsteady crouch against the side wall of the bar, just out of Holler's arm's reach, he spread his palms in surrender, panting hard. "Shit!" he gasped, trying to edge away towards the exit. "Didn't want trouble... honest, big guy... please, jus' let me go 'n I won't be back. Striler here just don't know when ta stop."
The waitress, Ira, emerged at that moment with the heated knife, the handle held delicately in a stained dishcloth, and a jug of steaming water, placing both items on the bar surface next to Brann.
[size=84][i]"She told me I had too much to dream last night..."[/i] - [i]Apprentice of the Universe[/i], Pure Reason Revolution
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With a sigh of disappointment Holler placed the chair back where he'd found it. Darn' these soft humans. Can't even get them to give me a decent fight! As the taller of the two slowly edged towards the light of the door, the Orc glared at him. Reaching down he rather effortless lifted the crumbled, little heap formerly know as Striler up. Without much trembling in his arm, he thrust the ragged doll in front of his friend's nose. "Take him with you, will ya? Can't have him loitering around here all day, can we now?" A low chuckle escaped his dark lips.
Without giving the retreating man and his felled friend any more of his attention, Holler bend down to retrieve the drunk's knife. Slowly he curled his hand around the dagger's hilt. From the corner of his eye a glint winked at him. For only a flicker he was torn between his wish to return to his ale - his FREE ale - and bending down even further to retrieve whatever it was that flirted with him. With a grunt and a sigh the Orc went on his knees to find out what caused the sparkle.
Without giving the retreating man and his felled friend any more of his attention, Holler bend down to retrieve the drunk's knife. Slowly he curled his hand around the dagger's hilt. From the corner of his eye a glint winked at him. For only a flicker he was torn between his wish to return to his ale - his FREE ale - and bending down even further to retrieve whatever it was that flirted with him. With a grunt and a sigh the Orc went on his knees to find out what caused the sparkle.