Interesting Times (Ulric)

[Ulric]

“I’m at Traveler’s Row for the time being,” Ulric said. He drained his cup and refilled it from the jug, smacking his lips. “Not exactly my type of scene, to be honest – not with all the peculiar characters that are coming and going. I might be one of the most disreputable of the lot, but at least I don’t scream in my sleep,” Ulric grumbled as he raised his cup. “Bottoms up, me lad.” More ale down the hatch, less remaining in the jug. All was well with the world. “As I was saying,” Ulric belched, “I’m on the lookout for a caravan headed for Kalea. Or better yet, a ship. I can’t abide horses, neither coursers nor beasts of burden – but I suppose you’ve already guessed that. One of the beasts nearly crushed me as a child, you see, and another all but gnawed my ear off,” Ulric brushed back his hair to reveal the scar tissue. As far as he was concerned, horses were better off in the stew. And bears, for that matter. Ulric took another gulp of ale. As usual, he was on course to be stupid-drunk in a bell’s time – which was the exact reason he preferred to abstain. “So, you got any dreams?” He asked suddenly. Surely, Sam couldn’t intend to remain a stable hand for the rest of his life.

OOC: Willow, unless threads are marked (open) they’re usually private, like this one. Also, all larcenous activities have to be cleared through a storyteller (as in this thread). I’d advise consulting the wiki and the matchmaking forum. If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to visit chat or the help desk. Don’t worry – we’re a friendly bunch.

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

Sam guzzled down his first cup in order to stay on par with Ulric, but he would be rather careful. He was tall enough, but didn't have much meat on his bones to soak up all the drink. Ulric, unless inexplicably a lightweight, would most likely be able to drink him under the table with little problem. "Wait," he said, eyes a little watery from the quick imbibing. "You're leaving?" Well, shyke. He didn't know why that upset him. Ulric wasn't exactly a friend. Sam didn't exactly have friends, anyway. He moved around too much. In no mood to defend that slip of the tongue, he moved on to admit more than he would normally have done with regard to his dreams. Stupid ale. "Well, I have a way with horses, so they don't normally bite me. Ones that do, I bite back. Usually on the ear. They learn quickly that way." Some thought that was cruel, but with some horses, one had to be a bit harsh before one could be gentle. "I thought maybe I would breed and train horses. Probably not here in Syliras. Serena has Windmount Stables and it's the best in town. Someplace where I can be the best. Though I should probably go back..." He blinked. "I mean, I don't know. I have to go somewhere else. Perhaps to Eyktol. Learn more about the desert breeds. Or maybe go to Mura and court the Konti ladies. They're pretty..."

[Ulric]

Heh, seems like he’s fond of me, Ulric observed Sam’s watery eyes. Hopefully not too fond, though. Ulric didn’t have anything against that; he simply wasn’t interested. Fortunately, Sam’s remark about the Konti quelled his suspicions. “Mmm… Konti.” Ulric licked his lips. “Tell you what, hire me a ship and I’ll net you a clutch of the scaly temptresses. Hell, caught me a fifty-pound sturgeon once,” he smiled wistfully. “But… I suppose that’s not the proper way to go about courting.” Ulric tensed, thinking of Mhera, his betrothed, and the look in her eyes when he’d rammed the blade into her neck. He quickly took another draught of ale. “Petching women,” Ulric said bitterly. He knew his crimes weren’t justified by the betrayal, but it still tormented him. And to think, I never asked why.

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

"I'm not so fond of boats," he said. "Mostly because Horse doesn't like them, but..." He squinted as he refilled his cup. "Well, I hope you didn't treat a dead sturgeon like you would a pretty Konti lass. I mean, far be it from me to judge anyone, but... eeeugh." He grinned and gulped down more beer, falling into the pattern of young men everywhere and unconsciously (or consciously) competing where alcoholic consumption was concerned. "I smell a story," he noted pointedly, but didn't press further.

[Ulric]

“Maybe when Lake Ravok freezes over,” Ulric growled. He emptied the jug and ordered another, peering around the smoke-filled tavern. “Sometimes we do things, lad – awful things – for which there’s no hope of redemption. Oh, it might seem a good idea at first, but eventually your past catches up to you and you begin to think about it. Not just once but all the time, until your entire life is defined by that one thing. It’s both an obsession and a poison. No chance of escape, no chance of survival – not unless you embrace what you’ve become.” Ulric upended his mug again. “Better to let sleeping dogs lie, eh?” He’d come dangerously close to revealing his secret, putting any number of questions into Sam’s head during his bitter monologue. Brooding had its dangers – as did drinking. “So, ever had your fortune told by a Konti?” Ulric forced a smile. He was starting to feel the effects of the ale; a pleasing, warm sensation that distracted him from the outpouring of memories. Still, he’d become stupid soon and perhaps allow the truth to slip. If he was fortunate, Sam wouldn’t remember. If not, well, life went on.

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

Sam looked dubiously at Ulric. From what he understood, Ravok was far enough north that the lake could freeze over, perhaps only partially, but then again, they were drinking so he couldn't expect too much logic from either of them. He shrugged it off with a smile. He had his own secrets, perhaps not so dire as Ulric's, but devastating in their own way. He nodded to the question, though, taking a gulp of ale to keep his throat wet while he talked. "Recently, I did. A woman named Lillis. Very beautiful, but I don't know what happened to her. What she knew about me was eerie, and it seemed like there was no way she could pull any of that from anything I said or did... but she said my mother was coming to get me..." He shrugged. "My mother's been dead for ten years now. "Maybe they're better for other things, eh?"

[Ulric]

Ulric listened to Sam speak of his encounter with the Konti, curious as to what she might say to him. Nothing good, probably. He wasn’t sure he wanted to find out. Lifting his mug, Ulric had the misfortune of being in mid-gulp when Sam delivered his final remark. He snorted with mirth, spraying the lad – and several bystanders – with a mist of ale. “Erm, apologies,” he sniggered as the rest of the mouthful trickled down the front of his tunic. “Oh, I’m sure Konti are quite tasty,” he returned. Wait… we’re not discussing recipes here. Not that I’d consider eating one of them, but… what the hell am I thinking about? “For the bedding, I mean. Not dinner,” he amended. Ulric hadn’t had this kind of conversation for a while. He’d last indulged in the temptations of the flesh with a whore in Ravok, and although his desires hadn’t faded he was fearful of the consequences. What if it came out? He couldn’t risk that. Still, there was nothing wrong with talking – it made him feel normal, in a sense. “What’s say we find one?” Ulric leered at Sam. He peered around the Stallion to no avail, then took another draught of ale. His head was starting to spin. “Apart from the typical Konti fetish, what do you think about knights? The females, I mean. Those ladies have to be hiding something more than honor and duty under their mail, right?”

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

Sam did his best to sop up the spray with his sleeve, but his reproachful look quickly dissolved into a grin. He couldn't really deride anyone for a Konti fetish, as he himself found them rather fetching. Even the scales didn't exactly dampen his ardor. "Seems there's always ten of them when you're not looking, but when you are... And I don't imagine they're the type of woman you want to marry, because then your wife knows what you're thinking all the time and that can't be good..." He choked a bit on his ale when he thought of a good comeback about the taste of Konti, but he didn't manage to get it out before the next thought came. "Lady knights? Haven't really seen too many of them. Seems like asking for trouble, though."

[Ulric]

Ulric downed another mug of ale. He was having trouble following the words that streamed from Sam’s lips. Something about marriage and, um, other topics. Ulric smiled and nodded, but his attention was elsewhere. First the floor, and then another patron’s cleavage. Ah, such a perfect milky-white hue, Ulric leered. Eventually, his gaze returned to Sam. “Shyke – I mean, yeah. Shyke,” Ulric repeated. Drinking this much, this fast, this early was the exact sort of behavior that would see him clapped in chains. “I’ve never understood how prisons operate,” he confided to Sam. “It’s supposed to be bread and water, right. But is it just water sometimes and no bread? Or bread and no water? I suppose the latter would be more unpleasant, though I suppose you’d die either way. Unless you caught rats, that is. I’ve heard it’s a popular profession in Sunberth. But speaking of rats, what about stew? If you got bread and water and stew, do you think the guards would put rats in it? Or would they opt for vegetable goo?” Ulric drained his mug again. All this thinking was thirsty work. But wait – how did the mug keep filling itself? “How does the mug keep filling itself?” he asked Sam. “Oh, wait. It’s the barmaid what’s doing it. More ale, you!” When the woman neared, Ulric sneaked an arm around her waist. “Mmm… how are you, m’dear?” he said to her bosom. In an egregious breach of social etiquette, she broke free of his grasp – which had begun to stray well south of the border – and slammed a knee into his bollocks. “No fair, you harpy!” Ulric sagged and might have collapsed had he not wrapped his arms around Sam’s neck. His face contorted with pain for a moment – and then he giggled. “Dance with me, Sam!”

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

Sam was giving Ulric's question their due consideration, but everything began to move so quickly and in the direction of disaster, which was becoming a theme with time spent in Ulric's company. Where before there had been bears, here there were a few burly men who would probably kick them out onto their arses should they get too, too rowdy. But the captured cleavage whirled away and suddenly Ulric was whirling... Sam? Wait, what? Why were they dancing again? "Whoa!" he yelped, pulled off his center and unable to find it again. His weight went this way, while Ulric seemed intent on going that way, which was going to be a problem right about... now. His own arms, strong for all their wiry leanness, wrapped instinctively around Ulric's middle. (Ulric was in dire need of a bath, he noticed.) The larger problem were his legs, which somehow seemed mixed up with Ulric's legs, which were dancing around trying to find their proper place and direction. They toppled like a felled tree, landing with a bruising thud onto the floor. "I think," Sam began slowly, "that I should lead next time."