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Post by Nigel Thornheart on Jun 28, 2020 0:27:27 GMT
"Well I offer a full inspection at you leisure," the hand on her back pulled her forward, close enough for a conspiratorial whisper, as if sharing a closely guarded secret of his trade. "Though for the uninitiated, the goal of combat is typically to be the one least wounded at its end."
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Post by Justine-Juliette de Vair on Jun 28, 2020 0:39:22 GMT
Justine eyed Nigel again. For some reason, in spite of herself, she felt almost compelled to join him...for more than just the lure of free food. Adolescent dreams were hard to give up. “I think I’ll have to decline the offer, Mr. Thornheart. I’m sure my partner will be along shortly.” She glanced pointedly toward the door, once again scanning the room. Demetrius was not the biggest fan of Nigel Thornheart. Even that was an understatement.
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Post by The Forgotten God on Jun 28, 2020 0:43:23 GMT
The bartender refills the Elf’s cup but clearly has no interest in starting a conflict with Nigel Thornheart about, even if some of his deeds were fiction.
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Post by Nigel Thornheart on Jun 28, 2020 0:49:36 GMT
"Your partner can catch up with you later," Nigel assured her. "If there is one thing I have learned from a lifetime of adventure and you should have learned from reading my book, it is that companions are temporary, but a night with Nigel Thornheart is eternal. If you play your cards right, you might even end up with a chapter in the next book."
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Post by Ceutinde on Jun 28, 2020 0:50:14 GMT
Once Nigel started pulling her, she grabbed the fresh glass of wine and threw it in his face. "Justine, would you care to powder your nose?" She asked, "I've got wine all over my hands."
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Post by Damien Chevalier on Jun 28, 2020 0:53:06 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.” Damien nodded his head up and down at her words. The Comte scooped up the dice and tossed them about his hand as he considered her words. "All the real monsters live in the capital. Playing their little games of advantage against one another, with knives in the dark to settle their arguments." He dropped the dive into the cup and continued, "So if want to risk your life on a daily basis, and only live for the feel of adventure, go join the Emperor's court." He shook the cup wildly beside his ear again, listening intently before spilling the dice onto the table between them. |
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Post by Nigel Thornheart on Jun 28, 2020 0:59:56 GMT
Whatever wax Nigel used to keep his mustache styled, it seemed impervious to the rivulets of wine running down his face, remaining perfectly curled. For a moment it looked as if the famed adventurer might draw his blade and cut down the elven woman for her audacity, but after a pause he merely burst out into boisterous laughter and replied in a booming voice more for the benefit of the crowd of onlookers than the widow.
"Elven women are a strange lot, aren't they? You make them soaking wet and they return the favor! Aha!"
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Post by Justine-Juliette de Vair on Jun 28, 2020 1:06:38 GMT
Justine blinked for a moment, and then burst into laughter. She liked the elven woman more and more. “I’m terribly sorry about the wine, Mr Thornheart,” she said, offering him a lace-edged handkerchief with initials that were not her own.
“Yes, lets.” She abandoned her stool to follow Ceutinde wherever she was headed.
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Post by Ceutinde on Jun 28, 2020 1:37:46 GMT
Ceutinde led Justine back toward the privy. "I'm loath to turn you away from a childhood hero, but he is...not the best you can do. All bluster." Once they arrived, she took a seat and began to relieve herself. "Not to say he's never done anything, but there's certainly some exaggeration present."
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Post by Nigel Thornheart on Jun 28, 2020 2:10:50 GMT
"You know lads, that reminds me of a girl I once knew," Nigel hopped up on the bar as the two women departed, perseverance undeterred, ego undamaged, and spirit undampened (though his clothes certainly weren't). He took a mug of ale in hand and raised it. "Strike up the band and join in if you know it." He then burst into a merry drinking song.
She wore she wore she wore a yellow ribbon
She wore it in the springtime, in the merry month of May
And if you ask her why the fuck she wears it
She wears it for her reclaimer who is far, far away.
Far away Far away
Too far to fuck
She wore it for her reclaimer who's far far away
She took it she took it she took it up the arsehole
she took it up the arsehole in the merry month of may
and if you asked why the fuck she took it
She took it for her reclaimer who's far far away
Far away Far away
Too far to fuck
She took it for her reclaimer who's far far away
Her sister her sister her sister had a gangbang
Her sister had a gangbang in the merry month of May
and if you asked why the fuck she did it
she did it for the reclaimers who were far far away
Far away Far away
Too far to fuck
She did it for the reclaimers who are far far away
She pushed she pushed she pushed a perambulator
she pushes a perambulator in the merry month of May
and if you asked why the fuck she pushed it
she pushed it for her reclaimer who's far far away
Far away Far away
Too far to fuck
She pushed it for her reclaimer who's far far away
Her mother her mother her mother gave them blowjobs
her mother gave them blowjobs in the merry month of May
and if you asked why the fuck she gave them
she gave them for the reclaimers who were far far away
Far away Far away
Too far to fuck
She gave them for the reclaimers who are far far away
Her father her father her father keeps an arequebus
her father keeps a arquebus in the merry month of May
and if you asked him why the fuck he keeps it
he keeps it for all reclaimers who are far far away
Far away Far away
Too far to fuck
He keeps it for all reclaimers who are far far away
Around his grave she laid the pretty flowers
She laid them in the spring time, in the early month of May
And if you asked her why the fuck she laid them
She’d say she laid them for her reclaimer who's far, far away
Far away Far away
Too far to fuck
She laid them for her reclaimer who's far, far away
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Post by The Forgotten God on Jun 28, 2020 2:30:29 GMT
In a somewhat horrifying commentary on the state of humanity, the vast majority of the tavern knew the lyrics even if they had different verses.
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Post by Geoffrey Ravenhurst on Jun 28, 2020 2:35:12 GMT
Thirty seconds after entering the Bastard’s Walk, Herneiros thinks he might have discovered why the gods had forsaken humanity so readily.
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Post by The Forgotten God on Jun 28, 2020 3:12:07 GMT
“In the dice game of life politicians are the fucking rake,” the woman agreed as she watched him scoop up the dice. “You’re quite notorious even in Breaktide,” she commented. “I was quite hoping to see some monsters of a less banal nature soon. Is it true you choose what number each dice lands on before you even roll them?”
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Post by Justine-Juliette de Vair on Jun 28, 2020 3:39:41 GMT
Ceutinde led Justine back toward the privy. "I'm loath to turn you away from a childhood hero, but he is...not the best you can do. All bluster." Once they arrived, she took a seat and began to relieve herself. "Not to say he's never done anything, but there's certainly some exaggeration present." Justine leaned against the wall and flipped through the huge tome she’d received. The inscription read “ Adventure is out there! Sincerely, Sir Nigel Thornheart” and there was a postscript reading “PS: If you want to reenact the illustrations on pages 44 or 172, you know where to find me. Huzzah!” She flipped to those illustrations and quickly closed it. Those would be perused at a later date. In private. Probably alone. “He’s a very confusing person. I’m not sure whether to fawn over him or punch him in the face. I think I know which side you err on.” She waited for her new acquaintance to emerge. “Isn’t he meant to be nearly sixty now? He didn’t look a day older than the illustrations from thirty years ago.” |
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Post by Damien Chevalier on Jun 28, 2020 3:59:04 GMT
“In the dice game of life politicians are the fucking rake,” the woman agreed as she watched him scoop up the dice. “You’re quite notorious even in Breaktide,” she commented. “I was quite hoping to see some monsters of a less banal nature soon. Is it true you choose what number each dice lands on before you even roll them?” Damien made a sour face as he cringed. “Rake. That is such a disgusting word. There is nothing I abhor more then someone who makes coin for no work at all.” He smiled at Reyna and gave a small helpless shrug. “Of course I could. I once rolled five ones with a priest’s dice one hundred and seventy rolls in a row.” He flashed a warm smile at Roger, “I would not do that now of course. It would be rude to my good friend here.” |
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