[Rearing Stallion] No Rest For The Wicked (Open)

[Devandre]

Howdy this is an open topic which is going to be time moderated by sun cycles such as Morning, Afternoon, Evening, Night. There will be at least three more posts done by myself if no others join. You also do not have to interact with me if there are others around that you'd rather talk to hehe. I am just here to initiate a thread and serve you meals/drinks. A price list can be found here: Click Enjoy

Time stamp: Summer 25 510 AV Morning Sun Cycle The short, middle aged man snorted standing outside of the Rearing Stallion. It was early morning still and only a few folk walked pass. Some beggars started early and were on the small groups in a heart beat. Devandre has had a rough year since Winter, but he refused to snoop to begging for coin. This was the reason why the man was now pushing open the door to the Rearing Stallion. The heavy, door swung open with a creak. He walked in as he took off his hood. He had a hard look in his eye as they readusted to the slightly brighter room lit by flame. The usual suspects could be seen busy as they chatted and did their opening chores. The Aargon family were gracious to allow Devandre to work for them and their tavern. They however had no idea about his background and hopefully never would find out about his background. He noticed the young man named Seth Aargon and greeted him. Seth nodded toward the man, “Hey glad to see you made it here on time. I am looking forward to spending the day with dad.” Devandre was aware of Kevith Aargon's affiliation with the Sylirian Knights but didn't really mind. All he was here for was to make a little extra coin. At that same moment Kevith walked into the room, a cloth in hand as he wiped them dry of water. “Devandre, nice of you to show up.” The brawny man walked over to his son and pat him on the shoulder. “He is going to be a splendid knight wouldn't you agree?” Kevith said toward Devandre who only nodded. A few hours of preparation later, the Rearing Stallion was now open for business. Devandre wondered onto how busy the day will be. Hopefully it will be busy or it will be a long day....

[Ash'eny]

The past few days have been cloudy. His head had been covered in fog and Ash'eny could sweat it was beginning to infect his vision. His recent encounters have been bothering him considerably. He found his moral obligations, as well as pride and his rebellious nature, all fighting for the main stage in his life, but instead, moved about like a mindless body. It had been nearly a full week since he was last begging for money, and that was unnatural. He had not yet attempted the act thieving, nothing close. He was actually locked in a state of sulking, a near-misery, and the hell of it was that he couldn't understand why he was miserable at all. He felt as though he had no reason for it, but he couldn't think. Did he actually have a reason? Could he just not remember something? He felt, feeling more than thinking as he did for the past five days, that he needed a cleansing, mentally, spiritually. Alcohol, that was the best thing he could think of. The man stepped into the tavern, a place he tended to visit quite often, yet always seemed like a new face. Today was rare though. He was not in the appearance of a beggar, no worn torn cloak or unbearable stench of the homeless lingering around his body, he was in his normal closing and his cloak was black, not worn, but most of all, his hood was not covering his head. No, instead his head was completely exposed, revealing dark brown, short hair, small curls, and his brown eyes that almost reflected the lost feeling he was falling victim to. Without hesitation, he stalked quickly to an empty barstool. It was early, too early to drink. "I need a gallon of beer." Ash'eny looked up at Devandre, a faint soft but force smile slowly appeared as he tried to appear more like he was celebrating instead of wandering helplessly.

[Altia]

Altia was lost. She had been wandering throughout the city for several hours and still had no destination in mind. 'If only I were a human, then I could stop at a tavern or something and just sit for a spell...' She scowled, she had no patience for self pity! There had to be something for her to do! Altia was beginning to wonder if coming to Syliras wasn't the wrong decision, the city seemed to be more of a communal home rather than a place of sight-seeing and culture. She ground her teeth together, the effect was ruined since her teeth didn't make noise, just squished together. She stopped for a moment in the middle of a road and reformed them before having a stroke of brilliance. 'Who says I can't go to a pub? Just because I can't eat or drink any of that stuff doesn't mean I can't go in one! Besides, taverns always have people in them. I'm bound to find someone to travel with if I frequent them enough.' With that in mind, Altia entered the first tavern she saw. It had a faded red sign with a picture of a horse on it, the sign simply read 'Tavern'. She reached up on tip toe to grab the door handle and walked inside. It was still early in the morning, so not many people were around. In fact, there were only two in the main area, though there might've been more hiding in the back somewhere. Altia strode up to an empty bar stool next to a man wearing a black cloak and stood behind it for a moment, one arm crossed against her chest while the other's elbow rested on it and her chin rested in her palm. After a few moments, Altia grinned. The stool was twice her height so she sucked in one arm and used that clay to extend her other in order to reach up and grab the seat of the empty stool. She hoisted herself up and repeated the process with the counter and sat, cross-legged, put her arms back in proper order, and smiled at the two men. "Hi there!"

[Wystern]

Wys couldn't bring himself to go to work today, and he couldn't find his acrobatics teacher, so he decided to drink the day away. He walked into the front door, the barmaid recognized him almost immediately; he asked for the usual and waited at the front, talking to the Kevith and his son. Wys wondered why the man still hadn't enlisted the boy into squirehood. The family has been bragging about that for a long time, when are they going to put up. Nonetheless, Kevith was an excellent example of one of the order, and so Wys had respect for that man. Regardless, his son was a little too pampered. Or maybe that's what it was like to be a more, more carefree? Was that the word he was looking for? The kid's going to join Syliran Knights, that wasn't carefree, more like the opposite. As he walked off, Wys noticed that Kevith mentioned Knight's name to his son. "Dear Tyveth, please be nothing like that man!" Wys mused to himself, thinking what the barman told to his son, but keeping his mouth shut. He saw Kevith's skills in action, and had no desire to challenge the man.

Wystern pulled away from those thoughts as he got his ale mug, and then he noticed the beggar and his companion; and...what were the barmen were staring at? It looked like a statuette. Wystern saw his fair share of creepy stuff in the ten years in Sunberth and the ten years in Syliras, but...was that creature even alive? It seemed to talk. He always zoned in and out on those lecture days when the Knights told him how to treat different situations with different races. He knew some things about Kelvics, Akalaks are common in Syliras, but he just never saw a single creature like that.

He noticed a familiar face in the tavern, right beside the strange creature. The beggar from before, what was his name? It escaped him to ever ask for it, and ironically, he told the man to look for a job five damn times. Wys picked up the mug and approached the table where the beggar, the weird creature, and an unfamiliar short man sat.

"Good morning, Mr. Cloak and his friends." He said playfully. He noticed that the creature was more feminine in appearance. That was it, his curiosity reached its peak, and it's peak was likely higher than her three-foot outlandish self. "Miss, what are you?"

[Ash'eny]

Ash'eny slowly turned his head to glance at Altia, and without processing much, he turned back towards the barkeeper, hoping his large gallon of beer was waiting for him. It took his several seconds before he had to take an obviously 'double-take'. His gaze shifting quickly back to the small girl, statue, thing. Whatever it was, it moved, spoke, it almost looked human, except for being significantly small. He watched it for a moment, stunned almost, too much so to say anything. What could he say? He was already consumed by the grasp of melancholy, a foggy smoke clouded him, thick enough to be carved by a knife. He gave a broken, cracked grin as he slowly pulled his head away from Altia. "Hello little one." "Good morning, Mr. Cloak..." Ash'eny turned his head again, but this time in the other direction, meeting gazes with Wystern. Was it just him, or did this particular Syliran Knight seem to be following him. Surely he would make a big deal about him not getting a job yet, or at least not trying. It didn't matter, he had no excuse, needed no excuse. He hadn't been back to begging, surely he noticed that, or at least the absence of this one beggar on the streets. It didn't even occur to him that he may not be recognized, since his cloak was inside out, was black instead of the typical worn brown cloak, he was cleaned up a little, and his entire head was revealed. No, that was his problem, he exposed his head at their first 'official' meeting each other, surely he would be recognized after threatening him. "Sir Knight! I was just thinking about you." Lies. "How long has it been? Three weeks?" Five days at most, he couldn't even remember if there was a few other times since then. "You know, I owe you both an apology and several drinks. How about I treat you today. I have intention of drinking to clear my head, haven't been feeling too well to be honest. My brain hasn't been working as well as usual." Ash'eny shrugged his shoulders lightly as he patted the empty stool to his left, offering it up for Wystern to sit. Ash'eny then began to chuckle to himself. The memory of him actually threatening the Knight in this very place, it was so absurd of him. He made a fool of himself, revealed his face, broke countless laws within minutes, and exhibited even more disrespect than any creature should be targeted with. It was just all so ridiculous that he didn't even feel ashamed, it just seemed comical. "Come here friend. I wish to talk to you, not about work or knights or beggars or ideals. I just want to talk about nothing of importance, to laugh, and hope I wake up happier than I pass out." Ash'eny smiled lightly at the thought, a knight and a thief, two people at about as opposite of the lawful spectrum, the only thing that could be farther (further?) was an assassin, murderer, or openly violent people. "Barkeeper, this man is my friend, I'm covering his bill until either of us leaves. In fact, this little girl, whatever she may be, can also have anything she wants at the expense of my wallet." He giggled lightly at himself as he pointed to Altia sitting on the counter, surely she couldn't drink or eat more than, well, hardly anything really. He assumed five silver mizas worth of food and drink would be more than she could handle. Anyway, how tall was she? A foot?

[Devandre]

Devandre tended to his chores. Kenith had vanished into the back of the tavern supposedly to retrieve something that he had left behind. The door creaked open and in walked the first patron of the day, “Gday sssir,” he said from across the room in his signature lisp characteristic of the exotic Dhani. The cloaked figure sat on a barstool with a creak. The wood groaned being a woken so early in the day by the cloaked arse of a patron. Devandre's slitted eyes studied the curly locked man. Black pupils widened when he heard the order. “A gallon sssir? Tis a bit early for drink...” His eyes diverted from the young man and gathered on the large, opaque, receptacle to hold frothy beer within. Devandre continued to speak with the man as he continued his journey to the keg. He had to have a block of wood to step up on to better reach the handle, “... for me at leasst. What bringss a young lad such as yourself off the filthy streets of beggars into this wonderful tavern?” The man emphasized the word beggar with the inflection in his tone, and a sharp look that he shot toward the man. He paid attention to the keg as it poured the broth of grains, water and alcohol into the container. However, even though he had payed attention his pour wasn't the best, to much foam. The sound of the door as it opened signaled to the man that another had just wandered their way into the tavern. 'Wow, early customers. Maybe they are the guys that stay all day and tip well.' Kevith had mentioned to Devandre about a group of knights who would frequent off duty and drink their merry selves into a stupor. He stopped the nozzle at the right moment and turned to walk toward the man again. Devandre arrived back to where the man had seated himself, an obvious and strange smile plastered on the man's face. Devandre didn't dignify the man with a smile back instead sharply said, “That will be four ssilver young man. I'll keep a tab for you, also may I suggest you purchase a cup of ale before leaving, it is the best in Sylirasss.” He left the container on the counter top. His gaze was diverted toward the young, elegant lady, who sat upon the counter now. The first thing that went through his mind was, “Finally someone who isn't taller then me.” Devandre stared at the girl in a soft, what the hell I just cleaned that, kind of way before leaving into the back rooms of the tavern to do other chores uncaring of the little pycon. --------------------------------------------------------------------- *Not directed at anyone but just story Kevith and Seth stepped out and greeted the pair. “Be kind now Devandre, we have regulars who report any and all problems to me.” Devandre nodded and said, “yes sir.” “My wife is still here everything on the food menu is available after mid sun.” With that he guided Seth out the door of the tavern. He spoke to with his son about some knight or some other BS that Devandre didn't care about. A loud noise graced the mixed blood's ears, noise that turned into a voice after further processing. He turned and looked as another patron entered. Devandre looked up just in time to catch the comment made by the Knight. /end non specific story ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Devandre called to Remi in the kitchen, “Do you need any help back here mam?” Remi stopped her preparation of vegetables and looked up toward Devandre, “No I think I have everything under control for the time being.” Devandre smirked and left to go back to the front of the Tavern. Devandre snickered from behind the counter as he manifested through the door frame, even the Sym/Dhani mix knew not to interrupt Kevith while speaking to the young squire. He could feel the man's stare at him as if in an attempt to figure out him. He didn't mind and instead loved it. He basked in the attention, flicking his long red hair as if to try and seduce the knight. A few moments pass before he heard the younger man call out to him. Devandre spoke in an amused tone, “Your friend hmm? Iss the lady on the counter alssso your friend? At leasst she will not cost you an arm and a leg.” The man chuckled like nails on chalk metal before he retreated away to make sure the lamps on each table where lit but set on low. The sun's ray had begun to directly grace the tavern with warmth, a contrast to the cool summer morning.

[Altia]

The men she had engaged in conversation were either slow, having a bad day, or just didn't care. The barkeep had just looked at her without a word and gone off to the back, and the fellow in the stool glanced over at her greeting, gone back to doing whatever it was he was doing (waiting for his order, she assumed), then looked at her again and finally focused. "Hello, little one." Altia grinned, glad that, at the very least, she would have someone to talk with for a spell. Before she could say anything, another man strode up and greeted the cloaked-man. It sounded like they knew each other, considering the newcomer called the cloaked-man by a nickname. Mr. Cloak. Altia filed it away in case she needed it later. The newcomer asked Altia what she was and she craned her neck upwards in order to see his face. 'More like his nose hairs...' She grinned as she spun on her bottom to face him directly. She rested her hands in her lap and said, "Me? I'm a little girl's doll gone horribly wrong, can'tcha tell?" she cocked her head to one side, still smiling. "Name's Altia, I'm a Pycon. What about you, sirs? Names and occupations, if you will." She said, turning her head to look at Mr. Cloak so he knew she was talking to him as well. However, Mr. Cloak seemed to be having slight... issues. That or he was just a very happy person in general, judging from his carefree grins and chatter. "...In fact, this little girl, whatever she may be, can also have anything she wants..." Altia covered her mouth with one hand as she giggled. "Oh no, don't worry about me. I can't have any of that stuff. Thanks for the consideration, though." When she heard the barkeep's comment, she grinned at him. "That's probably true."

[Fayde]

After wandereing the city for a couple hours, Fayde was helplessly lost. Not physically, but mentally. More so emotionally, for one he didn't plan enough to know what to do AFTER he got to the city. He arrived shortly after dawn, giving him plenty of time to roam the city, however with this excessive amount of time being, still he found no help with what or where to go. Finally he came across a tavern, seemed quite 'built' enough, though also seemed fairly new. Before walking inside, Fayde looked quickly to his sides and then briskly walked in.

The tavern was pretty much empty, almost a sense of loftiness and an open mind gave the place a nice, enjoyable enviornment. He looked around at the minimal people sitting at the bar, not to mention the small clay women sitting with her legs crossed, a funny sight to see in a tavern, but hey, why can't she be here? His eyes then dart to the commotion with a Syliran Knight and some other cloaked man, which he knew better to stay out of. Fayde takes a seat next to the Pycon, giving her a glance and slight nod and looks back up. His stomach start to growl ravenously, for he had forgotten he hadn't eaten since the doe he found grazing a couple days ago. He beckons the bartender and asks for the largest meat meal consisting in the breakfast he could offer and slides 10 silver mizas over the counter, not even looking up.

[Devandre]

After Devandre had greeted the initial guests to the Tavern left them to chat. Remi had asked him if he could procure a sac of potatos from below. Devandre nodded and left to the cellar. The stairs were steep and had to be taken at a slow pace. One foul step forward could mean certain pain. Once he reached the bottom the stairs, he strolled quickly over to where the potatos where kept. His rough hands wrapped around the top of one of the burlap sacks and hoisted it up and over his shoulder. He began to walk his way back to the foot of the stairs. The burlap sack that hung heavy on his back reminded him of the good times when he had traversed the terrain of Mizahar with a sack of loot. However, times change and things grow a little older and old practices have to come to an end. Each step up the wooden staircase made a slight thud like a deep sounding metronome. He crested the top of the stairs and stepped out on even ground. He left the sack on the ground next to the sink with a slight grunt. “Here you are mam.” Devandre informed Remi onto where the potatos were located. She also informed Devandre that if anyone asked breakfast could be served now, she was now prepared for whatever meals that may come her way. ------------------------------------------------------------------------- Devandre moved out into the front again to check on the guests. The sun was up now and bathed the ground in morning sunlight. He could see out the window through the glare of light, the castle city of Syliras slowly began to awaken. People walked in pulsed groups as if Syliras was stretching itself before the busy day. A few other strangers had come in that Devandre had missed. They had glasses of water already so he assumed Liz had already helped them. It wasn't long before he was summoned to another guest. Devandre could sense that this person wasn't a normal human. Once he stood in front of the man his slitted eyes focused on the unusually large canines in his mouth as he spoke. The man didn't look frail, nor had skin similar to his own, which only meant this man was a kelvic. Devandre's blood boiled under the skin, his distaste was supressed as he started to reach for the silver. Even though the kelvic that had sparked his hatred of the kind was a horse, he was aloud to mate once. From what Devandre understood was that kelvics aren't born as the same animal, which meant any Kelvic could be the spawn of that miserable spy. Nonetheless, Devandre had to suck it up, he had a job to do. The prospect of spiking the kelvics food was tantalizing, but he took the coin and left six on the table, “You over paid sir...”

[Fayde]

Fayde watched the man closely. His eyes darting to meet his eyes and then to his hand, holding the extra coins. With a slight, annoyed growl, Fayde swiftly swipes the coin and puts them back in his pocket without saying a word to the man. His stomach growls once more, giving the bartender a glare that says Hurry up, or else I will feed on something else.