Placeholder I-*hiccup* Let's Rival (Aventis)

[Gyndarios Quickhand]

Timestamp: 91st of Winter

Gyndarios had always found the last day of the year to be the very best of every year. The celebration of the terrible cataclysm that had once threatened all of Mizahar was an oddly joyous event. People of all races and creeds came together to celebrate the survival of their world. It didn't matter if you were Isur or Human or Konti or any other kind of person. The whole world had survived such a terrible event and every years end was the very proof of that. His mother had always loved the holiday too.

For many of his younger years she would sit Gyndarios on her lap in front of the fire just before the Watchtowers would change and she would tell Gyndarios of the survival of the Isur. She would tell him of the great volcano that shattered Izurith City. She would tell how King Sultros had lead the feuding Clans to the old Kitrean Mountains where the great City of Sultros now stands.

Of course Gyndarios had very seldom been involved in the celebrations that followed on the first day of the new year. That was the Day of the King. The day of King Sultros death and a day to remember every honoured King. It was a day of ritual and prayer. A celebration that had grown terser with each passing year. For it was custom to create something in honour of King Sultros and Gyndarios' shoddy craftsmanship became more and more unacceptable as the years went on. Eventually this, and other reasons, had created a rift between he and his mother. A rift that had only recently been bridged.

It was for this reason that Gyndarios had ordered mug after mug from the barkeep of the Rearing Stallion. It was not his joy for the celebration of the Valterrian or, for that matter, even a celebration of the impending New Year. The stubborn, young man missed his mother, worried about his offering this Day of the King and still hadn't found his father. The city was simply too big to just go around knocking on doors and he'd checked all the Inns and even had a peak at Matilda's guest list without her consent. Nothing.

He signalled the gruff, old bartender to give him another mug. The old man put his one hand down on the bar and gave him a deep, searching look. “I'm thinking you've had enough.” He replied gruffly.

Gyndarios head rolled upward and he set his eyes on the bartender. “I feel fine *hiccup*.” He replied his head rattling with the hiccup. “No, I mean fine.” He said rolling his head to the side “Good.., I am. Ye-*hiccup* good.”

“I don't think so.” The old man's attitude was no nonsense. “Now you can order a meal, sober up a bit and I'll consider another mug after that or you can leave in a nice and quiet fashion. It's up to you, Mister.”

“I-*hiccup*, I'm fi-” He started but the old man shifted and quite suddenly a dangerous look flickered in his eyes. Blood of Izurdin or not Gyndarios was intimidated enough to stand from his stool. “I'll just... I'll just go ho-*hiccup*, home then.” He took his coat underarm and strafed out of the tavern his upper body swaying side to side with his stumbling legs. “Shoke, no joke. Ha, shokes on him.” he said as he stumbled into the cold, night air. “I's just *hiccup* I'm shust 'nother tavern. Ha, humans stupid.”

OOCI could do more but I just got my dinner and I thought this was as natural a break as I was gonna get before my dinner got cold. If you need more to go on just PM me. If this is fine I look forward to your reply.

[Aventis]

It was the new year now, and Aventis had an overwhelmingly strong sense of apathy for it.

He had never done much for the new year celebrations, aside simply acknowledging that it was, in fact, a new year. It wasn’t that he ever thought anything bad of the celebrations, or that he had ever misunderstood it, the fact was that Aventis had never had the opportunity to celebrate and, now with his Knighthood responsibilities, it didn’t seem as if he had the time.

When he was little, or even at an older age, he seldom left the orphanage, and when he did it was to work. He didn’t know anybody who could invite him, nor did he particularly feel like going to a social event stag. It simply wasn’t appealing. On days that he had work or errands to run, he ran them. On days that he had nothing to do, he would sleep in a secluded area of The Welcome Home. These were his days. Any other child may have complained, or had something better to do in the first place, but never Aventis. This is why he was not phased as an adult.

The air was still somewhat crisp, but not crisp enough to have bitten him so roughly as it had numerous days ago. It was lighter, more comfortable. The squire pulled his cloak around him close as he calmly and surely walked down a somewhat longer stretch of road, which, a little ways down, housed The Rearing Stallion.

Aventis had always been weary on this portion of his route. Drunks had often frequented this area, and more often than not Aventis wasn’t the only squire on route, but tonight was an exception.

Sylir have mercy.

Aventis