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

[Wystern]

Wys got another ale mug, but politely refused the offer and paid for it himself. He wasn't even supposed to be here, let alone did he want someone to pay for his drinks. Speaking of someone, he never asked his beggar friend's name. Would he tell him? Considering he knows who Wys is, the beggar might just lie to him. "Same situations, just different faces," Wystern muttered to himself. He could just look at the man's face, focusing on the eyes seeing if he is truthful or not. Crow was very curious of the man's reaction.

"My name is Wystern, but you may call me Crow. I"m one of the Knights of Syliras. How about you?" Wys asked looking inquisitively at the beggar. Wait, why is he still calling him a beggar, didn't he get a job yet? Another matter to be brought up. The Pycon girl knew how to ask the right questions at the right time. "She's got the right instincts in this city; how interesting." Crow mused to himself.

He looked at how the newcomer was treating the barman. Crow already liked the barman, he liked anyone who shows compassion to women and kids. Now which one was the Pycon, just a woman or both? He couldn't remember a damn thing about that race; that's what he gets for sleeping during class. But who is he to be blamed, like no one before ever fell asleep during a really boring lecture. Excuses, excuses, Wys chuckled.

"Come on man, we are all here to have a good time, no need to get so antsy." Wys said looking at the newcomer.

[Ash'eny]

Ash'eny looked at the tiny Pycon and chuckled. He liked her already. "Just as well by me Little Altia, you aren't forced to spend a few coins of mine if you cannot. Means I can spare a few more towards forgetting this damn day." What exactly was it about today that had Ash'eny so down? He wanted to know so badly, but he also just wanted to let it go. It was, unbeknown to him, the very presence of Wystern. Ash'eny was always one to find friends and to genuinely love them as brothers and sisters. Wystern had somehow managed to slither his way into that very delicate little portion of Ash'eny's life, his friendship circle, but he couldn't trust the man. They had taken two drastically different paths, they were on opposite sides of the spectrum. It would be unwise for either of them to befriend each other. A thief cannot trust a knight, and a knight cannot be seen being friendly with a thief. It didn't much help that everyone, meaning Altia and Wystern alone, wanted to know who he was, what he did. Worst of all, the thought of lying made him feel ill, weak, disgusting in fact. The truth, he wanted to say it, he felt a need to. Ash'eny took the enormous gallon mug of beer and glanced at Devandre, smiling. "Thank you sir, you'll be tipped unless I should first lose consciousness." It was a pathetic shot at humor. Too much foam or not, Ash'eny took several heavy, almost painful, gulps of the drink, which wasn't particularly tasty on the tongue, but it hit the spot. "Sir Wystern, Altia, my name is Ash'eny. I was born and raised in Sunberth, came here... I'd say almost two-hundred and fifty days ago, give or take a few. I was a thief in Sunberth, fled to save my life. I came to Syliras initially to survive, but I found that my old ways were harder to break than I had originally assumed. Wystern, you'd be happy to know that I have yet taken anything from anybody, excluding the lies I fed as I posed as a beggar. I would like to claim that it was selfless, for those men out there I befriended, but I did it to try and appease my hunger for theft. I fear now, that I cannot be satisfied anymore on hand-outs of coin. I want... more..." Ash'eny abruptly stopped and lifted his mug to his face again, taking several more drinks, but were much slower this time, a little less painful. "Wystern, I hope you can forgive me for my past actions, I know what I have done, said, and lied about is particularly disgusting, and I truly do feel wretched. I want you to know and trust me that I do not intend to continue the life I tried to leave behind in Sunberth. Wystern, where can I go to apply for Knighthood, squirehood, whatever I need to do to change... to just change? I suppose... it's probably not possible for one like me, is it?" Ash'eny's next visit to his mug was longer, deeper, and he even managed to drain the thing. But it was more than he needed, he felt cleared up, but it wasn't the beer. No, it was admitting everything to the one guy that he should not have spoke a single word to. At least they may execute him while he was drunk right. It took a few moments for Ash'eny's face to get a faint coloration, his body had a small wavering tilt. Ash'eny was a lightweight drinker, that was about as obvious as anything now. Slowly Ash'eny lowered his head to the counter and lie there, panting softly as he tried to will away the effects of the alcohol as if it was a poison forced into his body by another party.

[Altia]

Altia had gotten distracted while waiting for an answer from Sir Knight and Mr. Cloak. Yet another person had wandered in, he had a graceful step and a growling tummy. She looked over at him as he placed an order paid, given change, and was left waiting. She gave him a crooked smile, "Y'know, you aren't gonna waste away if you have to wait a bit. No need to be grumpy." She turned her head to look at Sir Knight when he started to speak. "… I'm one of the Knights of Syliras…" Altia frowned, one corner of her mouth turned down and her forehead took on some indentations. 'Huh?' Altia had heard rumblings about Syliras having its own little faction that was considered their law enforcement, but she had never been given a name for it. She had never given it much thought when she had picked Syliras as her destination, Altia had just figured that she'd recognize 'em when she saw them and give them a wide berth. "Knight of Syliras? Is that the law 'round here or is it just some kind of religion? And if it is the law, shouldn't you be wearing a uniform or something? The guards at the gate did…" She shook her head, cleared the cobwebs and smiled, tucking her hands into her lap. "Sorry, I get distracted easy. It's nice to meet you, Sir Crow." Altia really had no idea what to call the man, since he seemed to have three different names. She knew that humans to great pride in their name and made a big deal about them, so she figured a combination of two out of three would work. She didn't want to offend anyone, especially this early in her Sylirian adventure. Mr. Cloak was having a bad day, or so it seemed. Apparently, he was in a tavern this early because he wanted to get drunk. How someone's day could be going downhill first thing in the morning, Altia didn't know. 'He must be an early bird.', she thought to herself. He went on to explain that his name was Ash'ney and that he was a beggar and a thief. She looked down at her lap while he talked and fiddled with the clay that made her right thumb. "... and I truly do feel wretched..." She stared at her right arm, her body relaxed as she gave the distinct impression of not being all 'there'. Her arm started to shift, twisting upwards and separating into individual tendrils. The end result was an open water lily that was a roughly the size of two mizas. She reached into her bag with her only hand and pulled out a ball with a leaf outer layer, peeled off the leaf to reveal a wad of clay. She munched on it as she offered the flower to Ash'ney, whom had his head on the table, panting. "Feel better?", she said in such a way that implied she was wondering if her little gift would brighten him up, if only a little.

[Wystern]

Wystern looked inquisitively at Ash. How interesting, his guess was right. The guy is from Sunberth, just like Wys; only a little more poor. Honor among thieves, huh? Well, once a thief, always a thief, and Wystern did steal before.

"Hm, let's see what we have here. Tell me how correct is this: your parents were probably thieves themselves, or farmers, or something similar; in Sunberth there is only poor, dirt poor; and those who live in cartels or sell slaves, profit above all others. Let's see how much your story is similar to mine, your parents got killed, but you had to learn to survive. You found someone who taught you how to steal and hide; and don't try to deny your ability for hiding, as bad as I am, I can vaguely recognize some of your skill. So, you steal for money, to buy food, to just go by living. You sometimes had to fight to fend for yourself, and that made you extremely familiar with cloak and dagger, but looking at you, I'd say more cloak than dagger. How am I doing so far?" Wys looked at Ash'eny's half surprised face with a smile. "You, Sir, are not the only one familiar with what it feels like to be Sunberthian filth. You are free to apply for squirehood, unless your skills with certain weapons are good enough to pass the test to simply be accepted into knighthood." He then looked at the bartender and asked for another mug.

Wys looked at Pycon, thinking of a correct answer for her question. She hit that one the head, it's law and religion at the same time. And she even guessed about uniform, but uniforms are for those who want to be noticed.

"We are law, and yes we have a religion. We are not a cult, we simply worship Eyris, Tyveth, and Yahal; in other words, wisdom, judgment, and purity. As for uniforms...well, I would rather not be noticed when someone would commit a crime. And please, don't call me Sir."

[Ash'eny]

Ash'eny did give Wystern a confused and surprised smile as Wystern guessed at his own story. It was similar, specifics were different, but that's not why he was shocked. Wystern almost knew Ash'eny, could tell it all by his appearance, maybe a mistake or two of his. But as Wystern was guessing, he was revealing pieces of his own tale, and that is what surprised him, Wystern was similar, only a few steps ahead in changing. Perhaps Wystern found somebody that he respected who led him to Knighthood? "Correct, almost correct Sir Wystern. My father and mother could still be alive for all I know, but I wouldn't call them by such titles, nor would I today bother in uttering their names. They are no family of mine. My father wasn't a thief, but my mother was a prostitute. I suppose that's shameful, but a recurring theme amongst many offspring conceived in Sunberth. I learned to steal and how to conceal myself, as you said, by a good friend of mine. He was a thief, but he was also the man with the biggest heart of gold I have ever met. The gang didn't like him much because instead of sharing precious money with them, he tended to give them away to the truly starving and ill, lame, blind, and all other helpless ones. He also told me that concealment was better than violence. 'Take a loaf of bread, and the man will hunt you for a full bell's time. Kill the man and his family will hunt you for the rest of your life. Kill the family, and you anger all people. Kill all the people, and you anger the gods.' I suppose it's ironic because..." Ash'eny stopped abruptly, he told enough of his story. Surely Wystern would be pleased with what he had offered up so far. Ash'eny peered up at Altia and smiled, taking the little 'gift' from her and gently brought it up to his face so he could smell it. He smiled and nodded slowly, though kept his cheek plastered to the counter top as if trying to lift it would pull the skin straight off. "Yes, it helps very much Little One, thank you." Ash'eny didn't really know how to respond to Altia, she was just so bizarre to him. A small clay figure that could literally move and talk and change shape. He wrapped the 'flower' in his palm and held it against his chest. He did feel better, between her and Wystern, he genuinely relieved. "I assume it looks poor for somebody to be drunk when they apply for Squirehood. Probably doesn't work in his favor. When I'm done here (which in his mind included the hangover that was to follow inevitably) I will do what I can to be a squire of Syliras, and maybe someday a Knight like yourself. Maybe... someday..." Ash'eny groaned as he moved his spare hand to his stomach and closed his eyes. He was going to calm down, to stop talking for a bit. Beer and Ash'eny was not a great combination.

[Altia]

Altia had no idea where Sunberth was. She assumed it was some sort of city or country or somesuch thing, but that was as far as her knowledge went. She shrugged and settled for listening to Sir Crow talk of his own life, trying to bridge a gap between him and Ash'eny, it seemed. 'This Sunberth place sounds kinda interesting… Dangerous, but what in life isn't? I wonder how they treat travelers..' Altia thought, zoning out for a time. She forced herself to focus when Sir Crow addressed her. "We are law, and yes, we have a religion." Altia just stared up at him, trying to fathom what in the world a god of purity was supposed to do. She understood Tyveth, wisdom was valued highly in her home Pyve and - she supposed - in all of Pycon culture; it was only second to experience, though the two tended to go hand in hand. She grinned, Sir Crow was a sneaky knight (which wasn't surprising, now that she knew a little of his history). If criminals didn't recognize him as a law enforcer, they'd be more likely to slip-up in front of him and thus make him more successful in his duty of keeping the city safe. "… And please, don't call me Sir." If Pycons could roll their eyes, Altia would have. Instead she shook her head and looked up at the ceiling. It looked sturdy enough, not like it would crumble down on her at any given moment. She shook her head and said, "Aquiras help me, are humans always this particular?" She sighed, "Fine, Crow." She turned her attention back to Ash'eny as he told an abridged version of his life story. 'Huh. He's had an eventful life… Must be nice.' As she polished off her ball of clay and Ash'eny accepted her gift, her arm returned to its proper size. "I like story time. Almost makes me feel like I should tell mine." She said with a crooked grin. She knew spirits made the bigger races talkative, but she had never witnessed it for herself. Now she knew about the magical properties of beer. 'Ever want information, buy 'em a few drinks. Must remember that.' Altia frowned and brought her head level with Ash'eny's and said, "Would becoming a Knight make you happy?"

[Devandre]

Daylight Stamp: Afternoon Lips curled into a wicked grin when he heard the kelvic command more then ask for his food. Devandre decided to do the most appropriate action and went slower then usual. Since the kelvic paid full price, Devandre reluctantly asked Remi for a real breakfast, which she prepared happily. Devandre brought the food back to the bar and set in front of the kelvic. “Oh wait a moment ssssnippy,” He reached into his cloak and pulled out a juicy, red apple and set it next to the plate of eggs and ham. “An apple for good health,” he smiled warmly now. With chores done he decided to stay awhile and listen into the conversations that were going on at the bar. He nodded at the man with the foamy ale when he heard him thank him for the drink. He listened in and learnt that the man's name was Ashney. He continued to learn more about the man that he had seen fleetingly around Syliras. Devandre's eyes rolled slightly, a thief from Sunberth, seems my homeland continues to live up to their reputation as being a breeding ground of anarchists. A muffled snicker escaped his mouth, which he eloquently covered as a cough when he heard that the thief now wanted a revelation, “S'cuse me.” The conversation about the Sunberth up bringing made Devandre nauseous. The sobby stories of hard times and resorting to stealing seemed to be a cop out way to do things. His eyes perked for a second as Wystern asked for another mug of Ale, “You got it.” He walked away a little uninterested in the conversation. He watched as he poured the ale making sure to do it just right. The drink hugged the glass walls filling up at a brisk pace. The pour wasn't perfect but it seemed to be getting better. He returned in time to see the little clay girl make a strange object and then hand it to Ashney. Devandre bit his tongue wanting to say something relating the pycon to a prostitute who is basically giving herself away. But he felt it wasn't in his best interest seeing as the man who is known as Ashney had taken a similar path as himself. He heard the pycon talk about story time and decided to chime in, “Why don't you tell uss your story little one? A small being such assss yourself should have a fantasstic ssstory...”He trailed off when the pycon asked the Knight if he was happy? His eyes noticed the man who was now slumping in front of the counter. He tapped his chin in thought trying to diagnose the problem. His eyes lit up when he realized what the problem was. He dipped behind the counter for a second before producing a glass of water and some bread. He said to Ashney, “Eat something it will make the beer sit better...”

[Fayde]

Fayde was given his breakfast while he sat looking ravenously at it. He slowly and enjoyably savored every bite. He needed to get out of the bar quickly to attend matters, if the bartender wouldn't have had purposely prepared the meal slowly, it would of been much better for him. He finished up his meal and got up, turning to leave. But before he took a step, he turned to the table and flipped the 5 silver mizas on the table. "For you." He says to the bartender, with a dark smile barely visible from under his hood. He then walks out, giving them a friendly wink, indicating to the that he was going to overpay or give them those 5 silver mizas anyway, and walks out the door.

[Lich il forte Silenzio]

With the last apotheric breath of a traveller, long walking the shrouded path of a highlander, a strange ragged figure stumbled forth into the tavern or what hadt seemed to be a local inn of sorts from the outside. The stark figure, carrying the fashion of duellist in his stride, took yet another somnolent step into the tavern, his hushed panting dying down to a whim as he observed the establishment surrounding him. A few tarnished tables were spread here and there, flimsy chairs with the odd foot stool tossed to one side. It had an ancient feel to it…it held an air of tradition, as indeed could have been noted from the array of cracked instruments lining the walls. Within moments of the traveller’s entry and assessment, the outline of the mysterious figure had vanished seconds later…

[Jezabelle]

It was getting on for midafternoon and for a change Jezabelle wasn't feeling the familiar ache working its way up from the soles of her feet and spreading slowly up her calves after a long, long day in the bazaar. As tonight was her night off from the Swan she'd decided that today was going to be her day, her day to just rest for a while. She'd spent most of the day so far simply relaxing in her chamber, stretching the kinks out and doing those little chores that always piled up; getting the floor swept and surfaces cleaned, making sure her costumes were in order and so on before heading out for a wander round outside. As always she'd taken her cloak, just in case she felt a chill, but for a very welcome change it was actually warm enough out here for her not to need it.

She'd picked her spot not far from the main gates and settled down, lying back and basking in the glorious sunshine, her trouser legs and sleeves rolled up to take full advantage of it. She'd never tan though, that was a given. No matter how much she tried and how much she loved being out in it she always ended up simply burning, her pale skin seeming to magically turn to a very unappealing shade of pink. She sighed at the familiar tingling that was running over skin, hinting at the possibility of her already going pink after just half a bell or so out here and knew that it was time to head back inside. Besides she'd not found the time to eat yet. Odd considering she had all the time in the world today. She shrugged and turned to head back inside, deciding to head to the Stallion since it was on her way home and they could be relied upon for a cheap meal.

Ahhh the Stallion, there was something welcoming about the anonymity it offered to all who passed through its doors, particularly for Jezabelle. As long as you came in early enough before the patrons let their drinks get the better of them it was reasonably quiet. She strolled through the doors without ceremony, her blue cloak rolled up below her arm and her sleeves and trouser legs back where they should be. Her eyes flicked round the room and found it pleasantly quiet. She made her way across the room, eyes slightly downcast and sat a little along the bar, putting a comfortable amount of distance between herself and the other customers, hoping that would be enough to discourage any conversation. She recognised one of them though, he was one of the knights who patrolled the bazaar sometimes wasn't he? Thankfully though he looked busy enough with the others, including a... little statue thing? She shrugged slightly at the sight, different strokes and all that; you don't bother them, they don't bother you. She raised a couple of fingers from the bar in a signal to the barman, the faster she was served the faster she could be out of here and on her way home.