[The Kelp Bar] Going Native (Hrair & Hadrian)

[Hadrian]

Hadrian stared wide-eyed at the thug after watching Hrair embarrass himself horribly.

"Sir," he protested weakly. "I'm just a starving student. Look, I haven't an ounce of fat on me!"

He hoped one of the other patrons who knew him would help him out of this because Hrair certainly didn't seem able to do anything other than roll around in his own vomit like human swine.

"And I just met him a few minutes ago when he vomited on me!" he whined.

[Hrair Ansoub]

The thug reached out with one hand and picked Hadrian up with one hand.

"Now you listen to me you little weasel," whispered the thug menacingly. "You students come here with cash to burn and do nothing but drink in a mans pub all day...how about I crush your friends throat and slit yours." He pushed the knife hard against Hadrian's throat.

Hrair gasped under the weight of the thugs shoe.

[Hadrian]

"Would you mind crushing his first?" he asked, a lame attempt at humor. Of course, the moment he was free, he was going to high-tail it the hells out of there. Hrair seemed a pleasant enough fellow when he wasn't vomiting on a person or inciting violence, but it took much more than that to get Hadrian Aelius to stick his neck out. Not that he wanted Hrair to get hurt or, worse, killed, but seriously. It was probably Lhex's karma for him for being a belligerent and especially uncoordinated drunkard.

[Hrair Ansoub]

Hrair choked under the weight of the thugs shoe. He twisted this way and that but could not lift the weight of the shoe. He began to pass out.

"Money" Hrair wheezed "I have money" the thug lifted his foot slightly.

"Oh yeah" he sneered. "Where?"

"My boat...on my boat" spluttered Hrair, desperately trying to draw breath.

"Oh yeah how much?" said thug, raising an eyebrow.

"I can give you 250 gold if you let me and my friend go" reasoned Hrair.

The thug seemed to think for a second. "Ok" he said "you get me the gold and i'll let your friend go"

"Sure" said Hrair.

The thug eased off on Hrair's throat and Hrair struggled to his feet.

"Of course there is one thing you should know about my friend" said Hrair struggling to his feet, trying to avoid Hadrian's gaze.

"What's that" said the thug.

"He's making you off balance" said Hrair and pushed the thug as hard as he could.

[Hadrian]

Momentarily pissed when he realized Hrair was going to outmaneuver him and get away, leaving Hadrian with the full weight of the thug's wrath, it was forgotten once he bum rushed the bastard, who sent Hadrian flailing. He managed to keep his balance, though, and -- in a fit of tipsy heroics -- he picked up his chair, raised it in an epic arc, and brought it down on the thug's head.

"FIGHT," he screamed, then grabbed his papers, grabbed Hrair, and tried to pull the idiot out of the impending chaos.

[Hrair Ansoub]

There was total pandemonium in the Tavern.

The thug stumbled trying to grab hold of a bar stool and pull himself up, but succeeding only in grabbing a bar stool and pulling the occupant down, onto his own head. The occupant of the bar hit the floor, his arms flailing as he did so. His flailing arms knocked his tankard of ale across the bar and into the face of a stevedore who was also slightly worse for wear. Hearing the shout of "FIGHT" and feeling the pain of a tankard being driven into his temple the stevedore immediately presumed the gentleman to his left who was completely minding his own business had thrown the tankard in anger. Slightly miffed at this proceeded to punch the gentleman squarely in the face. The gentleman's servant immediately tried to defend his master by kicking out at the stevedore which succeeded only in angering the ganger who was busy leering at the barmaid and boasting about how tough he was. Not wanting to disappoint the barmaid the ganger hit the servant full force in the throat and immediately the men under his control lept to his aid and began kicking and punching the servant. The poor servant reached for whatever he could and grabbed onto the landlord's arm who had reached out to try and keep the servant upright. The servant perceiving the landlord's arm as a threat bit into the hand causing the landlord to squeal. The landlord instinctively hit out with the tankard in his other hand. He missed the servant and hit the ganger squarely on the head. The ganger turned round, and thinking the gentleman who was minding his own business had hit him with a tankard, he proceeded to hit the gentleman repeatedly around the head.

Hrair watched the chaos unfold stunned for a second, and realising he was being pulled towards the door by Hadrian he decided it may be a good time to leave. He hastily grabbed a nearly full tankard, and a piece of paper Hadrian had dropped in his haste and they made for the street.

"Crikey" exclaimed Hrair as the pair indulged in a quickstep down the street, "this town is full of drunken idiots, with no sense of self preservation."

The pair ran along the quayside, before stopping around the corner from the tavern. Hrair unfolded the piece of paper that Hadrian had dropped, and stared at the rune and seemingly random numbers on the piece of paper. He handed the paper back to Hadrian.

Hrair scratched his head, and remained silent for a second.

"It's a funny thing you know Hadrian," said Hrair. "I've seen this symbol once before... It was marked on the chest one of the men from the blue sailed ship - where does it come from and what does it mean?"

[Hadrian]

Hadrian said nothing about the irony of Hrair's observation regarding the town's inhabitants. But it was funny, so he laughed, and they had survived the ruckus, which he would claim was on account of his "magic" if Hrair ever asked. Surely he could get the inebriate to believe that he had casted a sweet volley of Banthus's Magic Chaos Missiles or something like that. Sailors were usually fairly superstitious.

But when he handed back the page of his notes and claimed he had seen that glyph, well...

"I don't think you really want to know, Hrair. It's not a happy ideogram."

[Hrair Ansoub]

Hrair looked at Samael and cocked his head.

"I don't want to know, I need to know" he said.

[Hadrian]

Hadrian shrugged, tucking the page back in with the others, then slinging the thin ream into his pocket.

"Suit yourself. It's an epithet of the Tainted," he said, quietly. Even though the docks seemed deserted, it wasn't a name lightly spoken. "So unless you're keen on taking on the chosen of the Corrupter, I would forget about blue sails, glyphs, and revenge. Chances are your family is dead. If the gods are kind."

Maybe it was harsh, but it seemed logical to Hadrian. There was no sense in Hrair getting himself killed -- because he would -- chasing dangerous cultists. He couldn't even survive a night of drinking without help, after all.

"Sorry," he added. It wasn't that he was cold-hearted, but realistic.

[Hrair Ansoub]

Hrair listened to Hadrian's explanation.

"So what you are saying is I should just give up because this man is dangerous." Hrair seemed to sober in an instant.

"I know he is dangerous, for I have seen him in action, I was just too late. I have to find her, I have to at least try. If she is dead then I need to know...Hadrian please, tell me all you know" pleaded Hrair. "I want to find her whatever the cost, have you got a sister? have you ever been close to someone then lost them? when I was young we were totally isolated from all this, no one but ourselves, then that was taken away from me. She was taken away from me, three years I've looked everywhere, three years in vain, but you must, I implore you, tell me all you know of this mark, I must find him...I must know...please I implore you tell me all you know of this mark"