[IC] What Lies Below

[c3p-0h]

Kat pushed the door open and strolled in just in time to hear Ernst's boasting and crude comments to the tavern keep and she rolled her eyes. Not that she minded crude, but honestly, how was she to put up with this lot in the coming weeks?

"Is your sister as much of a catch as you are?" she asked as she dropped herself into one of the remaining chairs. "If so, you might have to pay him for it." Plopping her bag on the table – it was heavier than it'd been that morning, but the number of silver coins in Kat's pocket remained the same – she sat at an angle, resting her arm on the back of the chair. Kat turned to the mysterious cloaked man. His name was Vidic, apparently.

She was silent as she looked him up and down. No, this one wasn't a priest. His eyes were too dead, and the way he carried himself was too fluid to be anything but predatory. Eyes never leaving Vidic's, Kat said, "If this one's a priest, then I'm right-handed." She tilted her head to the side, continuing, "No, if anyone's soul needs saving, it's your's, isn't it?"

[SillyGoy]

Ernst raised an eyebrow at the annoying figure from last night who just entered the tavern. She was the girl who arrogantly refused a free room, seemed to scoff at the notion of getting to know her brethren-in-arms, and now insulted his sister. Now, if her first impression was better on Ernst’s, he would have taken the jab in jest, but his nerves were being grated by the continued hostility and seeming imperiousness this girl kept acting on even when she lacked an arm! Thusly, there was a brief but bright flash of red in Ernst’s vision, and an equally quick micro-expression of a snarl that curled his lip, but in the end, he snorted and grinned.

“She’s a better catch than the black, maimed fool you are,” the archer smirked, but then quickly changed the topic. “By the way, we haven’t gotten your name, miss…?”

Ach, what an unpleasant person! Now the cutlets and pottage don’t taste as good. How dare this bitch ruin such a great breakfast when it was only beginning?!

[c3p-0h]

Kat froze at his words. Her face tilted to him the slightest bit so she could see him out of the corner of her eye and she sat in deadly silence.

"Not such a fool if I managed to walk away from this," she said with a nod to her bare shoulder, voice low. "Want to see what living without an arm's like? A rugged gentleman archer like you, I'm sure it'd be nothing. I bet you won't even pass out from the pain." Her voice was precise and heavy with promises of things to come if he dared open his mouth again.

Gods above, she couldn't wait for the idiot sitting beside her to meet Hel. She hoped he soiled himself. Or better yet, that Hel ate him.

She scoffed, and pushed herself up from the table, grabbing her bag again. "Have fun stuffing your face."

[SillyGoy]

Ernst arched up his eyebrows, then furrowed them, then rose one up, blinking in mild confusion, but then settled in anger. “Hey, hey, where are you going? You’re not gonna eat breakfast with us? You’re gonna tell us to ‘have fun’ like last night, even refusing a free room? Perkele and Odin,” he cursed to underline his words, “I like a fierce girl but your arrogance is something else! Too much of it, I say.”

He waved a hand in a dismissive gesture. “Go out and eat somewhere else, then. I know your types, think you’re better than anyone else. The cutlets and people here are too good for you, I think. Too bad you’ve already spoiled mine. Just as good friends make feasts out of simple meals, bad people turn such feasts into three-day-old nightsoil.”

[c3p-0h]

Kat stopped at his words, and eventually settled on turning around to face him again, her face a flat stare. Swinging her bag over her shoulder to free her hand, she lifted up a finger. "One, whatever reasons I had to refuse the room are my own, two, it's not that difficult to think myself above someone like you, and three, are you really questioning my decision to not break bread with someone who just called me a 'black, maimed fool'?" Kat shook her head, frustration leaking out of her.

"For someone who seems to prioritize courtesy, you're pretty shit at it yourself."

[SillyGoy]

As he listened to what Kat had to say, Ernst barely parted his mouth, his incisors touching his lower lip and his head rearing back just a bit to give him a little double-chin in an especially mocking facial expression directed towards the arrogant little shit who thinks herself more important than the rest of them! This strange black-skinned woman looks like a pilgrim down on her luck but acts like she was born in a court! What, was she born to an impoverished noble or was she just intrinsically a bitch? Either way, he decided to be the better person and give her another chance to repair their relations.

"Well, you are black and maimed and the 'fool' part was just a joke,” he said matter-of-factly, easing his face to something more normal. “What the hell are you on about? You look like a scattered monk but act like you were born in the Emperor’s Purple Room; can’t even take a little bit of banter.”

He raised his hands and unclenched his fingers wide to reveal his palms in a placating gesture of disarmament.

“But hey, if I offended, then my apologies, because I only said those mean things in turn, because you offended me after making such a shite first impression since last night; but hey, since we’re going to be watching each others’ backs out there, how about I buy you a drink?”

He grabbed a vacant mug and poured some beer into it, raising it in offering. “It’s on my tab. We don’t have to hate each other, you know.”

[c3p-0h]

Kat debated her options as she looked down at the proffered drink. On the one hand, screw him. On the other, she was gonna have to deal with him one way or another, and praying he got killed fairly early into the expedition wasn't the most reliable way to get things done. Rolling her eyes, she tossed her bag back onto the table and dropped into the seat she'd recently vacated, kicking her feet up onto an adjacent chair. She took the mug from his hand and took a long swig.

Gods, beer was disgusting, but at least it made the world less annoying.

Placing the mug back onto the table, she gave beggar boy a long look. "Kat," she finally said. "And if I look like a black, maimed monk, it's more interesting than whatever you're supposed to be," she commented, the corner of her mouth twitching up into a smirk. She still hated his guts, but she could play nice if need be. "At least I have stories to tell that don't revolve around how difficult last season's harvest was or the wolf that managed to get into the chickens."

[SillyGoy]

"Hey," Ernst smiled, liking the turn of events as he was actually expecting her to turn tail and leave the building. "You'll find that the woodsman and the farmer are two of the most interesting kinds of people you'll ever meet with lots of exciting stories to tell; sadly, this one, named Ernst," he finally dropped his name, "doesn't have many to share, and what he does have, you can ask any other: born and raised in a village far away from here, come to this region to escape the famines and the poverty like the rest of ‘em -- but you, on the other hand, Kat,” the word rolled pretty well off his tongue, though the name was rather strange to him, “you look like a very interesting person. Silver hair, black skin -- your parents must be two hella curious people. Where are you from? You've got a mystical look about you.”

As he cut away another pork piece and ate it he said, “By the way, I ain’t buying you breakfast. Much as I like to be a, say, gentleman,” he was actually confused as to what Kat was jabbing him with the word earlier as he looked and acted like none of the sort, “budget concerns trump over that. Forgive me, eh?”

[c3p-0h]

"I don't forgive anything," Kat said with an eyebrow raised. Lifting her mug again to take another swig, she continued, "And I don't do backstory. Adds to the mystique, don't ya think?" She placed her mug back on the table and drew lazy circles around the rim with her finger. "But for you lot I guess I'll make a special concession: I was born, presumably to two parents, lost my arm, and ended up here." Her eyes flicked back up to Ernst and she smirked. Reaching into her bag, Kat pulled out an apple she'd… acquired, and took a bite. "Not much else to me."

Her smile grew as she thought about Hel still lurking in the forest. "You pick out a nice, calm horse like I said?"

[SillyGoy]

"Come again?"

[c3p-0h]

Kat's hand paused as she lifted the mug for another sip. "A horse," she repeated, as if talking to a child. "Unless you're planning to walk all the way to the spine, you're gonna need a horse, and trust me when I say you're gonna want the most docile one you can find."

[SillyGoy]

The spoon attacked the pottage and further diminished it. Ernst, uncaring for the soup’s plight, merely replied, “I was planning to go to the stables after this breakfast, actually. You’ve been there; what’s the price for a good horse?”

His eyes travelled down to her bulging bag. “And what are the shops that offer cheap but good items?”

[c3p-0h]

"What makes you think I've been there?" Kat asked in an offhanded manner. "I've never been one for horses. Got a ride of my own." Hel would've whipped her upside the head if he'd heard her refer to him as a 'ride'. Kat's gaze followed Ernst's down to her bag and she gave a small smirk. She doubted he'd appreciate learning how she'd come to her supplies. "Nothing's cheap and nothing's good here. There's an avenue on the north side of town that's not awful, but on the whole you'd find better luck just scavenging the forest." Gods knew that's what she'd be doing later on. If the supplies in her bag turned out to be as unhelpful as they seemed, she'd probably just sell them in the next town they stopped at.

[SillyGoy]

After Kat’s first statement, Ernst made a strange face and reared his head back to allow for another brief but rather mocking double-chin expression half-shielded by a simultaneous partaking of a piece of fish. His eyes weren’t trained on the girl, but he was having a quite a rough time focusing on his meal, with every spoonful of pottage serving as a distraction from the mirth he was trying so hard to bottle up.

But after Kat had said all that she had to say, Ernst let out a considerable length of laughter and shook his head. “‘What makes you think I’ve been there?’”, he echoed between hiccups. “Gods, you are such a bitch. Just the way you said it -- wow! I’m seeing flashes of red, insulto kaayo ka! Ah, Basileos on the Throne,” he settled down, looking into her eyes with a sort of serene expression painting his face. “You don’t have many friends with this kind of attitude, do you? You’re a fierce woman, and… uncharacteristically so.” The long word managed to escape his mouth without a stutter. “Let me just guess here: are you a mage?”

[c3p-0h]

Kat gave Ernst a flat stare and remained quiet throughout his 'episode'. "Not even close," she replied once he'd calmed down enough. Heaven and earth, this one was annoying. "And I'm willing to bet you're short on friends too, what with your lovely demeanor."

[SillyGoy]

“Actually, yes, I am short of lovely people to drink with every night, but that’s because most of them died from famine, some died due to banditry, and the rest of them are either scattered around the Empire looking for work like I am or stubbornly refuse to give up our dead village, starving to death; and the only other living member of my family and clan, as far as I know, has fallen back to prostitution to sustain herself,” he said, cheerfully enough, picking from the river fish on his plate and reducing it into bones. The salt was just right; the tavern keep was consistently a good cook! “But if not a mage, Kat, then what’s your role here in the party? I don’t mean to, say, offend, but what can you do with just one arm?”

[c3p-0h]

"All I'm hearing is everyone you know would rather starve or whore themselves out than spend time with you. Can't say I blame them, if this is what that's like." Always one for tact, Kat was sure to tread lightly when speaking of such delicate matters. She reached for her apple again and brought it to her mouth for another bite. "And I can do enough. One learns to adapt." One also learns to call on their massive hell-beast whenever convenient, but with this line of conversation, she didn't think it would be the best idea to introduce Hel at the moment. She could tell by Ernst's face that he'd likely already written her off due to her lack of an arm. If she brought up that she had a snow leopard at her beck and call, the idea that she was useless except for Hel would only be solidified. No, she'd let the two meet later on, when the notion that she was weak wasn't at the forefront of Ernst's mind.

"And what about you, mister expert marksman?" she asked, shifting the attention away from herself. "Y'know there's more to archery than brute strength, right?" She scoffed and shook her head. Maybe that was why this one annoyed her so – archers annoyed her, especially amateurs. "You need speed and accuracy, or your arrow ain't gonna do shit, and something tells me finesse isn't your strong point."

[SillyGoy]

“Oh my Gods, you are testing my patience!” Ernst half-growled half-laughed. “Ohohoho,” he held his heaving chest. “How is it even possible for you to be such a bitch, heavens above?! You make me want to wring your neck, just nnnnrrgh!!”, he choked the air physically with his hands to emphasize, before bringing them down to take one of the last spoonfuls of pottage from his bowl. “And please, don’t talk about something like archery if you don’t know shit about it, because let me tell you that brute force is a big part of the art, as the good training sergeants have drilled me into knowing and having. I can do speed well enough, but you really need to have a proper body to be able to draw good stones on the bow, or your arrow will either not have enough force to fell your target or probably flop on the ground uselessly. Granted, accuracy is a big deal, but I’ve hunted deer long enough from distances near and far to get a good knack at it. Trust me when I said earlier than I can pin a man down from a hundred yards, but you probably won’t.”

He took his tankard and took a long swig from it, clearing his mouth and throat of the residue of food and replacing it with the sour taste of good beer. “Speed doesn’t matter much in archery unless the enemy is close and you’re being shot at yourself.”

[c3p-0h]

"Ah thanks for reminding me," Kat said, barely even trying to conceal her smirk, "patience. Another important thing in archery." She took another bit of her apple. "This, right here?" she said, making a vague gesture in Ernst's direction, "Not gonna do you any good." If she was being honest with herself, Kat was actually enjoying riling Ernst up – almost enough for her to let that comment about her not making any shots slide.

"And you think speed's not a big deal? Let's say we actually make it to the dragon. He's barreling down on our great dwarven leader, ready to swallow him hole, and you have to stop it. I don't care how strong you are, you're not piercing dragon scales with an arrow, so you have to go for the eye." Raising her hand, she made an O with her pointer finger and thumb. "You have to hit a target this big in a matter of seconds, or someone ends up dead. You have to not only get a near perfect shot, but do it under pressure and you don't have time to line up and correct your aim. Tell me speed's not important."

[SillyGoy]

“Yes, speed’s not important,” Ernst smiled, chewing on the last bits of pork. “Because if we get to that dragon and Tregon over here was about to be swallowed whole, then we fucked up something beforehand. Far as I know from what our captain’s said, there’s only one special way to kill a black dragon and none of us has it. So if something like that were to happen, then, well, shit, that’s tough luck. An arrow is a flying fist,” Ernst educated. “It hits with the fury of a god, not with a little cut. The more vital the body part and the more force on the arrow, the better the chance of felling.”

With an empty plate and a vacant bowl, and with a filled stomach, Ernst was finally done with his breakfast. Stuffed, but a little unhappy at having to entertain the little bitch who has done nothing but fling insult after insult his way, even when he was trying really hard to be nice despite it. Really and although he did not show it, he had already regretted his decision to give her a free drink.

“You know,” he said, rubbing his belly and coming to a final decision: “I don’t like you. I’m heading off to get supplies,” he stood up, “and to cool off a bit.”

Making his way to the counter and dropping off a handful of copper coins to the appreciative tavern keeper, Ernst then proceeded upstairs to don his gambeson and weaponry. As there was no point to it, seeing as the party was heading off at noon-time and it was still early in the morning, he opted not to wear his sallet helm and mail shirt. He descended down the stairs looking like a militiaman: bow on his back, quiver with bodkins and his arming sword at the side, and super-thick, protective pads of layered fabric patterned into diamonds covering him from his neck all the way to his knees.

Silently, he swung open the tavern door and exited into the village outside, muttering, “What a bitch. Hope she dies horribly,” before setting off for the local blacksmith and farmer’s market.