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Post by Silvia Raizer on Jun 27, 2020 16:48:19 GMT
"A pity, but I am sure you are most diligent in your duties," she said. "But I do so hate to think of you fine warriors being obliged to smash my head in."
She gazed out across the ramparts for a moment then turned back and asked "Might I know the name of your commander? I may need to pay him a visit at some point."
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Post by The Forgotten God on Jun 27, 2020 16:51:36 GMT
The man chuckled. “I’d never smash your head in,” he vowed. “For you I could let you devour me rather than risk harming you,” he winked. His partner made a fake gagging sound.
“Our commander’s Maria Comnena. She’s a paladin that’s works...” he pointed to a tower a few hundred meters away, “usually up there but she does like to move around a lot.”
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Post by Nigel Thornheart on Jun 27, 2020 16:53:14 GMT
The din of an exuberant crowd and a distinct boisterous laughter somewhere in town grew from a distant rumble to a deafening roar, like the ominous booming thunder of a rapidly approaching storm. As the joyfully foreboding force came closer, the shrill shriek of a young woman could be heard, followed by a thud as she fainted, as if struck dead by some irresistible unassailable force of nature. There was a moment of silence, a brief calm before the storm, long enough that the patrons of the Bastard's Walk may have thought for a moment whatever exuberant natural disaster was approaching had passed them by. Then the door was kicked in, nearly flying off its hinges, and there stood a living legend in all his glory, stepping from the cover of his books, like a god from Olympus descending to visit the mortals.
"Never fear! Nigel Thornheart is here!" he announced in a booming boisterous tone, perfectly waxed mustached quivering from his proclamation, armor resplendent and polished to near blinding sheen. "Barkeep I will take your hottest ale and your coldest wench," he declared, caring not for any interrupted conversations. "Wait...reverse that," he corrected, the puzzled expression and furrowed brow only momentarily dampening his self aggrandizing exuberance. "I don't want to make that mistake again. Aha!" At the bark of laughter at his own jest, he clapped a random patron on the back so hard he nearly knocked him off his stool.
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Post by Ceutinde on Jun 27, 2020 17:05:27 GMT
Justine has the feeling that when Ceutinde the Vision said the woods, she did not mean the Same kind of wilderness existence eked out by two escapees from the asylum. Still, she grinned as she took another sip from the glass. It really was good wine, wasn’t it? “We do odd jobs, mostly. Go where the wind takes us and all that. Spend a week in a town here and there. It’s the traveling life for me!” She didn’t mention all the things the pair of them were haunted by, nor the surety she felt that one day they would not run quick enough. "Lovely. I do wish I had more time for travel. Bastion has its charms, but a city is a city. One wants to escape the stench from time to time. Alas, work keeps me too busy to leave as often as I would like. Where is this partner of yours?" When the door banged open, she glanced toward it. Gods be damned. One benefit of leaving the city was not having to deal with him. But that was an unkind thought. Thornheart did more than his fair share to help the House, through both his public and pubic support. It would be rude not to at least acknowledge that. She raised her glass in his direction and gave him a smile. "Dear Nigel. What are the odds?" |
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Post by Silvia Raizer on Jun 27, 2020 17:07:32 GMT
The man chuckled. “I’d never smash your head in,” he vowed. “For you I could let you devour me rather than risk harming you,” he winked. His partner made a fake gagging sound. “Our commander’s Maria Comnena. She’s a paladin that’s works...” he pointed to a tower a few hundred meters away, “usually up there but she does like to move around a lot.” "Thank you. I will remember that. Perhaps she will let me cross blades with her. I'm no paladin, of course, but I've some small skill with a sword. I'll wager she has some fine tales to tell, as well." |
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Post by The Forgotten God on Jun 27, 2020 18:47:07 GMT
The soldiers laughed. “Best have more than a small skill. We call her the Bloody Surgeon behind her back. Ask her about the Boar from Hell,” he suggested with a funny look. “It’ll be a fine song.”
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Post by Nigel Thornheart on Jun 27, 2020 18:49:52 GMT
"Ceutinde! Barkeep, belay that order, for I have found all the companionship a man needs!" Nigel bellowed, always remembering a pretty face...at least until he had seen the rest of a woman. He pushed his way through the crowded tavern no doubt packed with adoring fans to where she was sitting at the bar. "With the most beautiful elf on the continent present, a betting man would say the odds of Nigel Thornheart not being far behind are almost a certainty." He flashed a dazzling white smile.
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Post by Ceutinde on Jun 27, 2020 18:59:20 GMT
"Quite." Ceutinde rolled her eyes, and held out a hand for him. "And what brings you to this part of the world, sir? Oh - but I'm being rude." She waved her glass toward the woman sitting next to her. "Meet my dear friend Justine. We were just catching up. Personal matters, you know. Juliet, this is Nigel Thornheart, about whom you no doubt have heard all manner of falsehoods that he himself wrote."
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Post by The Forgotten God on Jun 27, 2020 18:59:28 GMT
To the casual observer, the fact that the crowd did seem somewhat star struck as the roguish soldier entered may have been surprising. A casual observer wouldn’t have fully grasped how a legacy of womanizing, bloviating, and violence against non-Imperial humans and nonhumans would resonate in the right environment. For once, truly, Nigel Thornheart was the star of his show in fact as well as in fantasy.
Beers are offered by the gallon mug full and two women seek to bring him up the stairs even as he approaches the elven healer.
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Post by Damien Chevalier on Jun 27, 2020 19:00:04 GMT
Roger arched an eyebrow as the gentleman thief told his story. “God damn,” he mumbled as Damien finished. “So you still being chased by two golems bent on revenge?” He asked. Timm stared at the table and the dice wordlessly. A woman approached the table and took a seat. “May I play, gentlemen?” She asked. Her coin purse was almost distractedly full of silver. Damien looked at Roger and shook his head, "Thank Lady Luck's lusty left tit not anymore. I was able to turn them against each other eventually. That is when I learned Thunder was stronger then Lightning. Oddly if you had asked me before the fight, I would have bet the other way." He gave a shrug and refilled his now empty glass. He turned his attention to the woman and gave her a warm smile. "Of course my friend. Join us. It is always a pleasure to make a new acquaintance. These are my friends Roger and Mouthy Timm." He moved his hand to his own chest, "And I am of course Comte-in-Exile Damien Chevalier." He scooped up his dice in his hand, and then put them slowly into the bone cup. Then handed it to her. "Would you like to take the next toss?" |
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Post by Nigel Thornheart on Jun 27, 2020 19:22:11 GMT
"A book tour promoting the 25th anniversary collection of my memoirs. Doing the publicity rounds, kissing hands, shaking babies, all in a days work." He displayed the sliver of false modesty he could muster as he leaned down to kiss Ceutinde's offered hand and she introduced her friend. "I fear with two stunning beauties present my armorer is going to have his hands full getting the dent out of my codpiece. Aha!" This time when he clapped a random patron on the back in time with his bark of laughter, the man actually was actually launched out of his barstool.
"Ceutinde you wound me," he looked aghast at her assertion that his memoirs were works of fiction, placing a hand over his heard. "Do not tell me you give weight to the opinions of all those dusty academics and experts who have never seen a day of adventure in their lives." He said academics and experts with mocking emphasis and noted each with air quotes.
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Post by The Forgotten God on Jun 27, 2020 19:26:54 GMT
Roger arched an eyebrow as the gentleman thief told his story. “God damn,” he mumbled as Damien finished. “So you still being chased by two golems bent on revenge?” He asked. Timm stared at the table and the dice wordlessly. A woman approached the table and took a seat. “May I play, gentlemen?” She asked. Her coin purse was almost distractedly full of silver. Damien looked at Roger and shook his head, "Thank Lady Luck's lusty left tit not anymore. I was able to turn them against each other eventually. That is when I learned Thunder was stronger then Lightning. Oddly if you had asked me before the fight, I would have bet the other way." He gave a shrug and refilled his now empty glass. He turned his attention to the woman and gave her a warm smile. "Of course my friend. Join us. It is always a pleasure to make a new acquaintance. These are my friends Roger and Mouthy Timm." He moved his hand to his own chest, "And I am of course Comte-in-Exile Damien Chevalier." He scooped up his dice in his hand, and then put them slowly into the bone cup. Then handed it to her. "Would you like to take the next toss?" The woman took the cup with her thumb and pointer finger then spun it in a loop and gripped the middle. “I’m Reyna,” she said coolly. “Pleasure meeting you fine gentleman. An exiled nobleman, how...” she rolled the dice and landed a double six, “charming. What a story that must be.” She waits for the men to pony up the gold. |
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Post by Damien Chevalier on Jun 27, 2020 19:44:52 GMT
Damien flourished a coin across his knuckles before rolling it across the table to the woman. Coins cam as easily as they went to the King of Thieves. He scooped up the dice, and returned them to the bone cup. He gave them a shake and then passed the cup to Roger. "It is quite a story, but hardly charming. It involves political intrigue at the highest order. I am exiled to Bastion, and if I were to ever leave the Emperor insisted he would strangle me with his own belt." He gave her a wink, "So Reyna what is your story? Are you from this fair city or a traveler like myself?"
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Post by Justine-Juliette de Vair on Jun 27, 2020 19:58:42 GMT
“I’m not entirely certain where he...” She paused as the loud room got even louder as one Nigel Thornheart strode into the common room. Justine’s eyes widened to the size of saucers. She could only blink in surprise as he joined them at the counter, apparently well acquainted with her new companion. Of course he was, she was sure he knew every beautiful woman in the land.
And he was so young still...though the book that had kept her company in her cell was surely written twenty years ago or more. And of course she had heard more from her erstwhile companion who seemed to be running awfully late.
“Mr Thornheart...wow,” she said, color creeping into her cheeks. “Your book got me through a particularly difficult time in my life. I wish I had something for you to sign. I used to imagine...” It was irrelevant what she used to imagine. And embarsssing. “How incredible the two of you know eachother.”
She shut up and went back to drinking.
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Post by The Forgotten God on Jun 27, 2020 20:07:48 GMT
Damien flourished a coin across his knuckles before rolling it across the table to the woman. Coins cam as easily as they went to the King of Thieves. He scooped up the dice, and returned them to the bone cup. He gave them a shake and then passed the cup to Roger. "It is quite a story, but hardly charming. It involves political intrigue at the highest order. I am exiled to Bastion, and if I were to ever leave the Emperor insisted he would strangle me with his own belt." He gave her a wink, "So Reyna what is your story? Are you from this fair city or a traveler like myself?" “I’m a traveler,” she said, “from the colonies, actually. I decided,” she watched Roger roll, “to come see what the fuss is all about. The monsters and all. So far I’ve been fair disappointed. My first husband was scarier than the things I’ve seen so far.” |
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