[Pig's Foot Tavern] The Day Before (Rail)

[Andalusia]

Sunberth - Pig's Foot Tavern
21st of Spring, 512 AV

Evening was rolling in, with the roads lit with a gray, monotonous hue. This was the first time that Andalusia had ever ventured out of her tent in the wilderness without Howlite, Dante, or both. With her cloak providing her with the security that she needed to find the courage to come out at this time of the day, she made her way towards the Pig's Foot Tavern. The roads were bustling with lesser people now, and those who remained strolling, running and walking were all focused on the road ahead of them. She kept her hood on, thankful for the shadow that casted over her forhead and eyes. Some of her dark curls peeped out of the hood, and her pink lips were schooled to a blank expression. She looked aloof and mysterious, but also subject to fall prey into the hands of malicious-minded people. A jingling coin purse, the sound of arrows bumping against one another in a quiver strapped around her waist, and the occasional gleam of a assassin's dagger peered past her cloak. But other than that, the only things that could clearly be seen were her black leather boots and the very front of her clothes.

She took caution as she entered the tavern, the doors open and the inhabitants bustling with life. It was a this time that the number of people were extremely few, and the shady people began to enter. She scanned the room carefully, eyeing the large group of men by the entrance. Despite their bouts of boisterous laughter and outspoken exclaims on their 'romantic' escapades, they looked harmless and only out for a night out with friends. Their tankards were never empty, and their stories were never bland. She liked their spirit, but not their company. She shifted her eyes towards other tables. One had a smaller, more quiet group of men, who seemed to wallow in sadness and remorse. They stared into the distance and took small sips from clay mugs that seemed to hold a much stronger kind of alcohol. With their eyes bloodshot and seemingly soaked, she knew they were too depressed and deep in their own thoughts and emotions to ever do any harm. These were bruised men that were chained to their feelings. She admired their ability to allow themselves to feel these things, but hated seeing them like that. They occured around the tavern often, but were never an endearing sight. And then there were the friendly pairs of men, the groups of lovers on double, sometimes triple dates, and then the folks who kept to themselves by the very edges of the room, closest to the bar and to the staircase and doors. These were the shady people, who sat solo or in twos, usually with disgustingly terrible looks on their faces. Thankfully enough, the two tables at the far left were governed seperately by two lone travelers, who usually spend just one night at the tavern before setting out once more. She knew so by the way they dressed and acted; twice as adorned, twice as different, twice as defensive. They too, however, were harmless.

And then, there was that one table to the right of the bar, unfortunately just beside it. The sight of this man caused Andalusia's stomach to somersault two at a time. She had hoped that there would be no troublesome people tonight, and by the looks of the tavern in the beginning, it seemed so. She made the mistake of making eye contact with the man, who from her place in the middle of the tavern, smelled of intoxicating smoke and putrid acid. She quickly shifted her gaze away from the man, who was middle-aged and clad in tattered, worn clothing that in the past was surely a decent set of apparel. Time truly has its way of ruining things gradually. His yellow, bloodshot eyes never left her when they locked onto her eyes beforehand, and that's what made her break into a sweat. Gathering her courage not to shiver or reveal her anxiety, she casually took a seat at the barstool at the very center, her hands appearing out of her cloak to bring down her hood. A beautiful head of dark curls showered down her back and shoulders, framing her pale face and accentuating her strikingly green eyes. The golden light of the torches caused the golden speckles in her irises to glisten and glow like stars, and she licked her lips as she ushered a barmaid over. She loved the way her cloak would fall and cascade around her and the stool like a waterfall, protecting her from thieves due to the fact that if they would ever try to pilfer whatever she had underneath, she would feel the cape moving. The barmaid was not one of the young ones that tended to the front during the day; instead, it was a middle-aged woman with stress lines along the sides of her mouth and underneath her eyes. "What do you want," she said gruffly, but in a low voice. She welcomed Andalusia with a tight, grumpy frown. She was stocky, the revealing uniform of the barmaids were ill-fitting on her. Andalusia frowned back, almost asking for her usual, when she remembered that this woman hardly knew her, compared to the younger barmaids of her age who've served her often enough to know what she liked. "Just some a-ale," she managed, mentally slapping herself for stumbling with her words. She shifted her eyes towards the man sitting alone, and found that he was still staring at her. He had a small, crooked smile on his face now, and it was unmistakably sinister. She quickly turned back to the irritated barmaid as she carelessly plunked a filled tankard in front of her. "Enjoy," she muttered in a sarcastic tone. Andalusia glared at her and took a sip of the nasty drink. She liked the feeling, not the taste. With a heavy sigh, she hoped that the suspicious man would just leave already, but by the way he sat so comfortably in his chair, his back against the wall and his head rested upon his hand, she knew that he was going to wait until she was about to leave.

[Rail]

Rail had been sitting in the tavern for hours enjoying the static energy of the place. The boisterous stories of the drunks the slightest shiver of danger and the warmth of the mead. All of it gave him a sense of happiness to see. He was waiting for something, what it was not even he knew. But with a grin he was certain that it would be something...... entertaining. For a time he rested in the the darkest corner of the room his back protected by the wall, observing each person that entered the tavern. It was just the usual drunks and thugs that normally inhabited the early hours of the evening until a new face strolled in. Wrapped in a cloak all features obscured whoever it was moved with a certain grace. Most of the other tavern goers were far too engrossed in their own affairs to so much as acknowledge their entrance. As her eyes, and it was most certainly a her, skimmed over the other patrons in the tavern Rail got his first good look at her. A dark halo of jet back hair surrounding a beautiful milky white face with eyes that sparkled in the torchlight. For a moment Rail's breath escaped him and he could think of nothing but the majesty of her, slightly threatening gaze. The spell was broken as she looked away and Rail let out a slow sigh, turning to see what the other patrons were doing most were continuing as they had all night drinking away their problems and anxieties enjoying the gayety of their friends or lurking in the shadows waiting for an unsuspecting passerby, but one was openly staring at the new arrival. With some certainty Rail decided that this may have been the trouble he was seeking all day and leaned back in his chair to wait for the action to start.

[Andalusia]

Nervously tilting her tankard around, her eyes focused upon the dark liquid that swirled inside of it, her fingers threatening to give away her anxieties as they began to tremble. Looking up to gaze at the torch flickering just in front of her, she hoped that the man would stop looking at her. "Should've kept your hood on," she grumbled silently, but knew that if she had kept it up, it may make things worse; it may even convince him to approach her and see what was underneath. But, looking at the way he was ogling her twice as much with her face out in the open, it seemed she'd made it worse. "Go away, old man," she closed her eyes and chanted, taking another long sip of ale.

"Hey there sweetheart," the disgusting stench of alcohol and smoke hit her nostrils like a bomb. A large, damp nose was buried into her hair, and a pair of rough, dirt-caked hands had snaked their way down one of her arms and over her shoulder. "What're you doing here at this time a'night?" the man, unmistakably the one who was sitting not too far away a while away, began to struggle with turning her head to face him. "Get o-off," she murmured in a low, trembling voice, shaking with more anger than fear. "I won't hurt you, I can take you somewhere safer if that's what you want," he whispered into her ear, his nose still wandering around the side of her head, smelling her hair as he locked his hands around her shoulder and arm as she struggled. "I s-said, get off," she growled, her free hand reaching over for her assassin's dagger. The man quickly grabbed at her other wrist, keeping it together underneath a deathly grip. "Oh come on now," he started to laugh, seemingly opting to carry her off of the stool. "Stop it!" she hissed, attempting to shake him off as he began to grope her.

[Rail]

Rail had seen enough. He was not exactly the nicest of people but a drunken rape was not something he would stand for. A dangerous growl escaped him as he stood up from his table and made his way to the bar with great deliberation. With a start he saw the bartenders hand under the bar, most likely scrabbling for a crossbow or cudgel. Apparently he knew what Rail was planning because he made a slight nod towards the door, Rail acknowledged his request with a slight nod of his own and stalked up to the drunk plastering a fake smile on his face," LUKE!!! Is that you buddy?!? Its been ages!" He roared grabbing the bastards shoulders and spinning him around," When was the last time I saw you? Huh? Musta been a year by now maybe two." With an amiable laugh he dragged the man towards the front door turning his head slightly to give the young woman at the bar a small wink. As the drunk finally managed to start spluttering about how he had no idea what was going on, Rail tightened his grip on the man," Of coarse you know me Luke we been friends for years!" With that they were out the tavern door and Rail spun the man around leaning into his ugly face," I dont like it when people mistreat women like that." He growled out lifting the man off his feet with one hand and smashed him against the wall hard enough to rattle the door. When he dropped the man to let him slump down against the wall he heard the creak of the door hinges. The woman was peeking out curiously.

[Andalusia]

"I'll be gentle," he snickered, his hands wandering towards his torso as his lips neared hers, attempting to plant a sloppy, alcohol-ridden kiss on her. Andalusia growled, balling her fists as she jerked her body away from the man, hoping to get him off without any commotion. But he was too strong for her, his iron grip unfaltering even as she squirmed with all her might. "P-Please," she begged silently, her muscles beginning to burn and heat up from the exertion, only to find them suddenly liberated from the drunkard's heavy weight.

"Luke! Is that you, buddy? It's been ages!" she heard an enthusiastic, masculine voice yell out. She whipped her head around to watch as another man twirled the oblivious drunkard towards the door, unable to process his environment from the amount of alcohol he had taken. She turned around on her stool, her wide, glistening emerald eyes wide with amazement and shock. She jumped quite a bit as the man who'd helped her turned his head around to give her a wink. She reached over to massage the pink marks on her wrist and shoulder, where the drunken man had grabbed her, finding ease at the fact that she was finally free of his stench and harassment. She continued to look at the man, finding him clad in nothing but a dark collar from the waist up, and below, a pair of black slacks. He laughed boisterously as the pair of them sashayed outside of the tavern doors, only to move to the side. "Of course you know me, Luke! We've been friends for years!" the man bellowed, yet the drunkard only spewed out barely inaudible nonsense in response. She heard the drunkard slink towards the wall outside, and immediately felt the need to get up and observe, her curiosity getting the better of her. Gently, she rose from her stool, taking a few steps forward towards the exit.

---

"I'm just having some fun mate, I--" the weary man spoke quickly, immediately alerted and fear-stricken by the proximity between his face and the other man's. Nonetheless, he found himself off his feet, his shirt collar being lifted up by the bare-chested man. "No, p-please mate, I--" he managed to plead out, but before he could even finish his sentence, his back was immediately smashed against the tavern's exterior wall. The man immediately dropped the drunkard, letting the sullen man slink onto the ground. He then turned towards the open doors, only to find Andalusia there, peering over to observe. Finding this to be an opportunity to strike back, the drunkard rose to his knees and grabbed at the man's legs, hoping to pull him down to the ground to punch him.

OOCFeel free to control the drunkard as well! I hope it's alright that I'm controlling him as he interacts with you too.

[Rail]

Just as Rail began to give the woman a warm smile the drunks clammy hands locked on his legs and with surprising force he was tugged off his feet. As he fell he let out a vicious growl, the street rushing to meet him, this retch would not get the better of him he would not allow it. With a vicious twist he spun around midair and landed lightly, his arms behind his back holding him up. The twist had wrenched one of his legs from the mans grip and with a wild eyed smile he let loose a sharp kick to his face sending him sprawling into the dirt. As Rail gracefully slunk back to his feet he told the drunk in an amiable voice," My friend, getting back up the first time was a very bad mistake, I wouldn't try it again." In response the drunk sat up, shaking his head back and forth like a wet dog in an attempt to clear the fog he suddenly found clogging his vision. Once he could see fairly straight again the man stood up slowly sliding a knife from his boot as he went," Ya think ya scare me you petchin whore-son? Ive been in this city me whole life, I've eaten worse 'n you for lunch." The fools blatant refusal made Rail smile," You might not be afraid of me now, but you will be." As the mans eyes widened in indignation Rails smile only widened showing his wickedly sharp teeth.

Note for Anda :

Dont know if I should continue or not >.< writers block.

[Andalusia]

"My hands aren't trapped now."

Andalusia held her bow firmly with her left hand, the tip of the arrow perched upon it pointing directly at the man's chest. Her right hand had the arrow's tail stretched between her middle finger and her forefinger, just about ready to release. She held her right hand by her cheek, her left eye focused on the drunkard as he stared at her in shock, unable to register her threat, unable to move fluidly.

He was staggering, his mind flooded with false pride and confidence, brought about by his overindulgence in alcohol. Andalusia's muscles began to burn as she continued to keep her muscles flexed, her legs aching to move away from the fixed stance she was in. "Make one wrong move, and this goes right into your heart," she hissed through gritted teeth, her eyes glaring angrily at the man. Finally, he had realized her offensive act, and gave her a devilish smirk. "I can dodge that, sweet'art, I ain't af-afraid'uh no little girl," he cackled, his head moving backwards along with the rhythm of his boisterous laughter. Andalusia fumed, almost letting herself shoot the disgusting, insulting human being, but stopped herself. "Get out of this without bloodshed," she told herself silently. She quickly shifted her eyes towards the man, who had helped her a while ago, but was no placed in danger because of her. The man smiled at the drunkard, which only led her to place her trust in him that with his help, they could both shut the stranger up for good.

"You might not be afraid of me now, but you will be," the threat seemed to say something deeper and darker, more than what he was capable of, but also what he had planned on doing. The familiar feeling of fear and anxiety washed over Andalusia, a prickly warmth that was brought about by the implications of the man's words and the way he bared his unusually sharp teeth. And through this, she left herself off-guard and distracted, her mind focusing on the bare-chested man and his next course of action.

OOCYou could have him attack me, if you wish!