Open [Pig's Foot Tavern] A Rare Drink

[Vaylen Stroud]

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Fall 18, 514 AV

The third week of autumn was coming to its end, and despite his demeanor to always remain on edge, Vaylen knew his body needed something: rest. His muscles were sore from battles since the beginning of the season, and even his mind ached from the concussion it had experienced. All in all, it was just time for him to lay back and enjoy some time off. Of course, he loved putting people in their graves, but there was something so pleasing about slouching in a chair and drinking so much you forgot to remember.

Vaylen Stroud entered the Pig’s Foot Tavern, much of his combat gear still strapped to his configuration. He wasn’t looking for a fight, but it was Sunberth after all, and sometimes you just couldn’t avoid it. There were nights where people felt riled up, and there were evenings were people could shrug off an insult. It was all about timing and the mood of the people of the city, but usually the reactions were of the former and not the latter.

Making his way between dozens of tables seating a multitude of patrons, Vaylen found himself at home. While he lived a solitary life of killing most of the time, the mercenary sometimes enjoyed watching a few tavern brawls and hearing a few spicy rumors. Laughter and the clanking of tankards erupted from nearly every table, but Vaylen did not join any of the strangers. After a few ticks of peering around the establishment, he found himself in the back corner, a small candle lighting the opaque location aglow.

With his hood drawn over to cover his brows, Vaylen found himself removing the Mask of the Wraith from his countenance. He placed the item within one of the many pockets of his fur-lined cloak and let his gray eyes scan the inn. He liked having his back to a wall, for while tonight was supposed to be about leisure, there were still thieves that skulked about during the night, especially in the packed domain of the Pig’s Foot Tavern.

It didn’t take long before a wench approached the lonesome mercenary. “What’ll we have ye fer?” She asked, her dockside accent thick.

“Just a simple mug of ale,” Vaylen replied, not looking up to her for a tick. He slipped three copper mizas across the table toward the serving girl. He found his hand gesturing her away rather impolitely after that, but he didn’t care. A wench’s feelings were far from his concern. A few chimes passed before the wench returned with the tankard, firmly placing it on the wooden surface of the circular table. Its uneven supports wobbled a bit from the force.

Glaring eyes peered upward at the serving girl, and those narrowed orbs of hatred instantly made her face pale. Tucking her chin to her chest, she made her way back to the bar where Merv served drinks relentlessly to patrons sitting on the high stools.

And so Vaylen sat back in his chair, his hood concealing most of his identity from the denizens of the tavern. He sipped his drink slowly, wondering what occurrences the night would hold.

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[Adrien Strade]

It wasn’t rare for Adrien to feel worn out at the end of the day. Sometimes, being a thief required you to make a run for it at the last second and sure, he loves the chase but it was tiring nonetheless. But, Adrien didn’t just want to go back to his home tonight. He wanted a drink and maybe a good meal at the tavern. Besides, the tavern has always held some of the most interesting occurrences. So, the young man headed towards the Pig’s foot, hoping for a night of relaxation and a bit of fun. Who knows? He might even get something interesting out of this foray into the tavern most frequented by the people of Sunberth. He entered the tavern and was greeted with the loud cacophony of sounds that the place was known for. The place was quite packed today, it seems. This many patrons in one night may cause some brawls to break out once they’re all piss drunk. Adrien’s left hand went to the sleeve of his right arm, making sure that his knife was still where it was hidden. He wanted to be prepared if he ever got caught up in anything. At first sight, he knew that it would be easy to underestimate him. He didn’t really have any protective gear on his person and he didn’t look armed though he did have the knife in his sleeve and the dagger sheathed in his boots. His eyes scanned the room, looking for any vacant seats. There really wasn’t much and he didn’t relish the thought of sitting with the already drunk people where some of those empty seats were located. He really didn’t understand why people would give up control of a situation by being drunk. Sure, Adrien would drink ale sometimes but he never let it get to the point where he would lose control of himself. It was a recipe for a disaster. He eyed the empty chairs at the table in the corner. The place where it was in was a bit dark, lit up only by a single candle but it looked like a good vantage point where one could watch the things happening in the tavern without getting involved yourself. The only problem was that the table was already occupied by one person. ‘At least, he is not yet drunk,’ Adrien thought before grinning. ‘Well, I wouldn’t mind a companion tonight. Hopefully, he doesn’t mind either’ With that thought in mind, the young thief skipped merrily towards the table. He stopped and gave the man one of his friendliest and innocent smiles. “Hello, sir. Would you mind if I take one of the seats? Everywhere else is occupied or near those drunks.”

[Vaylen Stroud]

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Vaylen nearly lost himself in a daze as the incessant, boisterous laughs and roars of the patrons flooded his ears. He, almost instinctively, sipped at the mug in his hands, his right arm stretched out over the window sill that was right beside him.

And then a man only a year younger than he, though appearing much earlier into adolescence, strode up to the murderer’s table, flashing a smile that made Vaylen cringed. Oh how that grin alone made him want to slit the boy’s throat and watch his lifeblood pour all over the table in front of him. But alas, it was his day off. He had to let a few things slide, especially the annoying behavior of a too-nice petcher.

The young man was pale skinned with blight blue eyes, and that near-perfectly combed hair made Vaylen want to gag. Let’s just say his whole appearance just defied the logic of Sunberth and leave it at that. He was too clean, and that made Vaylen overly suspicious. The killer skipped the whole greeting part and decided to answer the young man’s questions. Vaylen lacked patience in the art of socializing. “I would very much mind if you took one of these seats, but seeing as how you cannot fathom the idea of sitting next to a drunk in a tavern, I will let you remain within my company,” Vaylen said, setting down his mug on the surface of the circular table.

He eyed the pale man dangerously. “And I do not participate in idle chatter. If important matters come to your mind, speak them. If basic, average shyke is all you have to offer in the form of conversation, leave your vocal chords silent for the night. Other than that, keep your hands to yourself and you may not find yourself losing a few fingers tonight. A pleasure to meet you.” At the end of his rather-thought-out explanation, the killer smiled wide falsely, and then let his entire countenance return to its normal grim demeanor. His gray eyes ventured out over the tavern once more, scanning the entire structure for any exciting commotions.

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[Adrien Strade]

Adrien grimaced at the implications of the man’s words. Really, it was sometimes amusing how easily he could set people off without even trying. Well, at least he now had a seat with a man that was more than just threatening. Well, this would be interesting. He gave the other a false smile as he sat down. “Why, thank you for letting me sit. How…wonderful” Adrien commented. Adrien wanted to scoff as the man threatened him. He hasn’t even made any annoying comment as far as he knew. It was a bit unfair of him to threaten and his vocal cords, really. Why did everyone seem to target his neck? He already had a scar there from an unfortunate event in the past. He didn’t need another one. The other was also clear on the rule that Adrien was not to steal anything. How rude, he wasn’t even planning anything of the sort right now. Still, his hand went once again to where his knife was hidden. If this man tried anything, well…Adrien will be ready to fight and run. The man’s whole demeanor practically screamed that it wasn’t at all pleasant for him to meet Adrien but Adrien decided to humor the man. “A pleasure to meet you, too,” Adrien said, his tone laced with just a tad bit of sarcasm. It was then that a barmaid came to their table, noticing the new patronage. She seemed a bit nervous, though and Adrien was pretty sure it was the man’s fault. “What’ll ye have now?” she asked. Adrien smiled sweetly at her, “Oh, just a common people and a mug of ale, please. Thank you.” The young man then turned to his seating companion. “You don’t mind me eating now, do you?”

[Vaylen Stroud]

.

There was only one questioned that burned into Vaylen’s mind at this point. The young man beside him was unreasonably polite in a place that was not known for such a thing. Ignoring many of Adrien’s comments, including his final sarcastic question, Vaylen stared at the blue-eyed man.

“Why are you in this city? You look to not have an unrighteous bone in your body. Certainly how you function here is a mystery to all,” Vaylen remarked, taking another sip of ale from his mug. With that final swig however, the tankard grew empty and the gray eyes of the murderer swept over to the wench as she was about to walk away. “Fetch me another ale,” he said without hesitation, not missing the profound scowl stamped across the woman’s facial features.

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[Adrien Strade]

Adrien threw his head back and laughed as the man questioned him. Oh, if only the man knew, Adrien would kill without a moment’s hesitation if he was given the choice between his survival and another person’s life. Adrien wore a mask, a façade and the eighteen year old knew most people did as well. It was amusing how sometimes people refused to see beyond the façade another wears. “Why am I here and how do I even survive, huh?” Adrien mused, letting a lazy kind of grin settle on his lips. “Well, I’m in this city because I find it fun. Don’t you think so? There’s nothing to stop anyone from doing anything. We have no laws and no one to answer to. I like that kind of freedom. Don’t you?” It was then that the barmaid had come back and deposited their orders on their tables. Adrien gave her a charming smile before saying, “Thank you, miss.” He turned to his food as she left. He took a bite and washed the food down with his ale before going back to answering the questions.“As for how I function in this city, well, I have my ways. We all do, don’t we?” Adrien traced his forefinger on the rim of his mug, humming a bit. He was thinking about the other thing the other man had said. He had said that Adrien didn’t seem to have an unrighteous bone in his body. “…And you’re wrong, you know. I wouldn’t dream of describing myself as righteous.”

[William Hart]

A hot meal. That's all William wanted this evening. Now that he was finally employed once more--steadily it seemed, and a good job at that--the man was going to indulge himself in a little treat. Summer had seen him deteriorate as he scraped by, doing what odd jobs he could find and nearly starving to death by the end of it all. How he hadn't was beyond him. The Gods only knew. Now his stomach rumbled in anticipation, and when he ducked through the heavy old door of the tavern, the smell that hit him was glorious.

Meat, tobacco, and cheap ale filled his lungs, caressed his taste buds, and beckoned him across the floor to the bar. Saliva pooled in his suddenly parched mouth, and the old owner Merv eyed him passively from behind the bar.

"What'll ye' be havin'?" he asked.

"A cheap, hot meal, and a cheap, cold drink."

Merv barked a quick laugh.

"I'll have one o'the girls bring it over to ye'."

Will nodded, offered over some mizas, and turned to face the tavern. It was filled with the usual lot. This was one of the safest places in the city. The old man was strict, and his rules were carved in stone. If you didn't follow them, you were taught a thorough lesson and kicked out. Everyone knew that, and it seemed to work. The place hadn't been burnt down, so it had that going for it.

Now he just had to decide where the petch to sit. William grimaced and looked around. A few pairs of eyes met his in the dim, smokey light, but they were uninviting. Strangers not looking to make a new friend.

Grader's NoteI'll charge my ledger at the end of the thread.

[Vaylen Stroud]

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The Wraith’s gray eyes blinked once and then apathetically moved sideward until they met with the stare of Adrien Strade. “Yes, the freedom of Sunberth that allows me to kill whomever I please without consequence is something I adore. I will agree with you on that,” Vaylen explained, smirking slightly, but it faded quickly

As the young blue-eyed man continued to speak, there was something that irritated the mercenary. Almost all his sentences ended in a question of some sort. The Wraith was not fond of inquiries, even if they were trivial and not daringly inconvenient. He decided to ignore most of his comments until his final one, for it was exactly what Vaylen had expected. “Of course, no one in this petching city is righteous. In this governmental system, you will be forced, one way or another, sooner or later, into a criminal act. I do so willingly, but others… let’s just say, some people are different than me,” the Wraith said, his eyes beginning to observe the Pig’s Foot Tavern once more.

The gray eyes of the killer settled upon the visage of a grisly, bearded man by the bar. The individual’s eyes scanned the tavern roughly, apparently trying to find a table in which to sit. Even though he disliked people in general, Vaylen knew if the man wandered over to his table, he could take some of the dialogue away from himself and maybe converse with the overly-pompous ass that was the young blue-eyed man to his side.

And so Vaylen locked a stare with William Hart, using his stern gaze to draw the man over to him.

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