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@c3p-0h@enmuni

Aliseth

Tavern



Aliseth was striding towards the exit of the tavern. A slight sway to his rigid careful steps. His path following that of a large barbarian who conveniently cleared the way. Aliseth had seemingly misjudged this Elio. Where he thought he saw concern, worry and a need to know of his friends fate, those indicators quickly dissolved into nothingness as he instead sat and talked to that monstrous looking blighted. She was more monster than human and had the nerve to hold herself with a sense of aristocracy. He recalled the way it had spoken down to him, taunted him. Aliseth had seen street rats beaten to near death for less. He knew he could have, should have, and probably would have punished her if it wasn't for Zeph. And where was Zeph anyway? Yet another of this creatures victims?

Before he reached the door, the bards made an announcement and began entertaining the tavern. Aliseth's thoughts were too dark, heart to cold, feelings too numb, to embrace or enjoy it. Sadly, there was a time not too long ago where he would revel in such things, a time not in uniform, when princesses weren't missing and a hunt wasn't out for a murderous blightborn. He watched a nearby table dissolve into drunken merriment as they were caught up in the tune on the air.

Aliseth let out a sigh and carried on to the door, never looking back. Before leaving, his hand balled into a fist as he clearly yet softly articulated a sentence no normal hearing could pick out amongst all the noise. Despite its discreet softness it was filled with venom. "Nesna, the slightest slip up or hint of trouble and your head will end up a trophy my wall. I promise you that."
With that said, Aliseth threw open the tavern door, the rush of icy wind that hit him a welcomed awakening to his senses as he walked out into the soft snowfall.

The echoes of a bell toil in his ears and the remains of a dispersing crowd linger, chatting with heavy concern. He straightened his back, lift his chin, and for most part deliberately went out his way to be found by questioning eyes, sure to inform any curious, worried citizens that a blight-born was eating people.
@c3p-0h

Aliseth

Tavern


Aliseth crumpled back onto his seat, the momentary shock turning into a flash of anger as realisation set in. It took a bit slower than usual due to the alcohol but it was definitely there, along with the faint hint of a promise 'You will be sorry for that'.
The anger however never manifested, instead transforming into a cold amusement as he gaze at Elio with a subtle smile. Intrigued eyes studied the masons face as silence stretched out. He took it to the cusps of Elio's tolerance before making a show of looking about and leaning forward to cautiously whisper.

"I.. I can't say any more. But maybe... Yes. I can help you find out for yourself. Go to the temple. Tell them I sent you to help identify the body. If you are quick, that should do it."

He nod solemnly as he let out a sad sigh, acting as if he had just done Elio some great big favour. "Wait, could you identify him based on his body alone?" he add in earnestly. "Oh never mind. You must get there quickly if you want to know." The sense of urgency real on his whispered words.

Again, he went to stand, watching the placement of his stool this time.

@Theyra

Valgo

Tavern



Once again the barbarian was slow to reply, his sharp eyes remained trained on Desmond but his focus was seemingly elsewhere. There was a slight shake to his head as if he was disagreeing with something unsaid.
"Aye." He suddenly reply on a deep breath. A presence in his eyes once again.
"Some 'blight born'-." he mimicked the way Desmond said it as he looked down at the plate. "well they can eat food just like you 'en' I."

Looking over his shoulder his gaze flittered across some of the obviously blighted patrons. "It won't... it won't." He look back to Desmond with a puzzle look on his face, fingers twirling in the air as he flicks through words in his mind.
"Keep them going and alive." he eventually blurt out, opting to use a sentence in place of a word he didn't know.

"Not all need food either." He says knowingly, dropping his knotted muscular arms on the table as he gets comfortable and ready to school his new business acquaintance.
"Sure some eat blood or flesh. Others, they'll drink your 'veska' soul. And...." He raises an eyebrow and gives a little grin. "You find a hungry hakdeesha, well, then you a lucky man." He chuckles softly to himself before pushing off the table and coming to stand to the sound of his chair grinding across the floor.

With a soft genuine grin he looks down and says.
"Good to meet you. I will see you again soon. Yes?"

Balenof’s scowl deepened as his gaze locked onto Gabs, her words hanging in the air like a gauntlet thrown. The room seemed to hold its collective breath, the tension palpable.

"Fair ladies?" he barked with a derisive snort. "I see one with a sword drawn and another with a mouth sharper than any blade. If you're looking for courtesy, lass, perhaps don't start by swinging steel in my tavern!"

He jabbed a finger toward Galen, his voice rising. "And you, golden boy, flappin’ your lips like you’re untouchable, stirring these louts up with your prissy insults. You think your words won't get you hurt? A man can only take so much before he forgets who’s who in a brawl."

His attention snapped back to Gabs, his tone harsh but not without a hint of begrudging respect. "As for thugs, these fools don't speak for me or this tavern. But if you're looking for trouble, you're bound to find it with words like those. Now, sheath that blade and settle this with fists, or I’ll settle it myself—and trust me, you won’t like my way."

The towering man in the background crossed his arms, a faint grin playing at his lips as the crowd shifted uncomfortably. Balenof’s presence alone seemed to temper some of the chaos, but the threat of violence still lingered in the air.
Aliseth

Eye of the beholder



Aliseth wasn't sure how he was supposed to respond to this unruly man. His taunting words light and filled with a familiarity that Aliseth couldn't reciprocate. He felt those Amber eyes on him, and the scrutiny in them. The thought of explaining why he couldn't remember him was even more tiring than the strangers antics. Besides, he wasn't quite sure who he should be trusting with that information just yet, but it definitely didn't feel like it should be this sly character before him.

He reach a gloved hand out to squeeze Elio's shoulder, as if he could physically halt the man's thoughts, while with his other hand he tip back his mug and finish off his drink in a few large gulps. He took his time, let out a little gasp, ran his sleeve across his mouth and then finally turned and locked eyes with the mason, even offering him a soft little smile.

He gave a firm little squeeze before thoughts finally formed into words upon his lips. "Just what are you running from... what are you so afraid to face?"
His hand slid from the masons shoulder and came to cup his cheek.
"We all have to grow up eventually. Even handsome devils like you. Grow up while you still have the chance."
With that he pat the man firmly on the face, something between a nurturing tap and a firm slap. Instantly turning away back to the barkeep, Aliseth leant over the counter so he could speak softly to Sya, but not so softly that Elio and Nesna couldn't here him.

"A guard was murdered earlier, I'm sure word will find your ear soon enough though. We have reason to suspect a blood-sucking, psychic, blight-born. I trust in these dark times we can put what ever grievances we have aside and think about what's best for the town. If you here anything, anything at all, bring that information directly to me or deliver it in writing to box two two eight at the messenger post."

He then sat back and straighten his armor. "Thank you for the drink." He gave a nod to Sya and then Elios before standing.

@c3p-0h@PrinceAlexus
@Theyra

Valgo

Tavern



"It's a DEAL!" he almost roars excitedly, bringing his big meaty hand in to seal it. But just before clasping his iron grip upon Desmond, he first looks down at his open palm and spits in it, creating a slimy little pool of saliva in the grooves of his tough leathery skin. "Don't you worry, I'll to right by you trator if you get me my things." The words like a promise, spoken seriously as he tightly grip Desmond's hand.

Sitting back once again he glanced around, noting many with obvious blightborn features. His thoughts ran away as his eyes set absently upon the bat and the snake. It almost seemed ha had forgotten about Desmond but just before he could say anything he turned back to him.
"How about you Desmond Wafen the Trater, are you -" his voice goes softer, and his eyes grow focused.
"Tal'kasha khol'vra dohan?" ...
"Or as your people say it, Bighted? I don't have the words, you use so many... Rat? Walker? Shell? Leech?" He sounds and looks a little bit genuinely confused. He scratches at his thick beard as he rolls his lips a bit.
"Too many strange words for those on Gifted soul path of warrior." he decides. His gaze going curiously back to the interaction at the bar.
@PrinceAlexus@c3p-0h@enmuni

Aliseth

Between a rock and a hard place



""
A low tired groan escaped from between the guards dry lips. He didn't even turn to acknowledge the Lunarian mason beside him. Impatient fingers drumming across the bar as he spoke. With pursed lips he remain silent, choosing not to engage in that verbal sparring match. Instead his eyes were focused on the serpentine cyclops behind the bar, unable to keep his inquisitive gaze from examining her peculiar form. He had heard of the tavern owner but never had he met her before, not that he could remember anyway. He had seen people transformed by the blight, but never to this extent, and yet somehow, she moved around so casually, freely, carefree.

Letting out a soft sigh he reply with a kind smile. "One drink will not see me drunk." He assured her with a little nod, "And you have my word I'll all too gladly arrest this man at first hints of a fight." There was a faint hint of joviality to his voice, even as his eyes finally veer away from Sya and land on Elios, carrying with them the weight of a promising threat.

Aliseth understood clearly what the blightborn meant when she said the commander didn't like her. It was likely an understatement. Surely the bias man had subtly done all he could to harass and even rob her of this dwelling. It was likely the same reason none of the guards had explored the avenue Aliseth was about to.

Drink in hand, he took a measured sip of the dark ale and was just about to call for the inn keepers attention when another caught it first. 'Her....' The sudden displeasure evident on his face and in the roll of his eyes. The blightborn's mere voice inciting a heavy grimace. With a quick glance Aliseth scanned the tavern expecting to see someone else, but not finding them he turned his back to the four-eyed, winged blightborn and unintentionally gave the smug stone mason his entire attention.

"Sorry, you were saying?" Aliseth hadn't enough groans or sighs for this situation and raised the drink to his lips once again. There was no measurement to his next gulping sip.

Reading!

Interested.

Thinking an elf character, anywhere in particular they would come from?
Alastrina immediately rushed for the one with the chair, taking firm hold with both hands and trying to leverage it away from him.


The man fought furiously to maintain his hold, seemingly like his life depended on it, but that all changed as he slowly registered the sword being drawn. His grip suddenly opening as he release the stool and took a few steps back.

Gabs ducked under the younger man's swing and butted her head towards his chin as she drew her short sword.

"Really," she grinned, "You're going to take on people wearing armor and weapons? And tuck your thumbs inside your fists? Idiots."

What idiot started this mess?


Stumbling backwards rubbing his chin, the wiry young man did not step forwards again. Eyes locked on the sword. All around the room more disapproving eyes slowly fell onto Gabs. He was about to reply when a viscous shout thundered through the tavern.

The ruckus did not end immediately but it sure slowly died down. A few people scampering out, others groaning and nursing their injuries.

"Who dares draw steel in my tavern!?"
It did not come from the large towering man quickly approaching them but instead another further back. Balenof. Fury was etched across the tavern owners face as he eyed the group. All other quarrels forgotten.
Aliseth

Town Centre -> crime scene -> tavern



""
Having ate the bloody meat, Aliseth was left alone to his tumultuous thoughts full of recent failings, hardships and regret. In his mind they swell and compound, a chaotic storm lacking an outlet, only growing all the more darker the longer he dwell upon them. The mental always having an impact over the physical, Aliseth grew restless as his fight or flight responses were active. That extra energy surging through his veins lift him from his seated position. He scan the crowd, cheerful people celebrating all around. It only made him all the more angry. Perhaps it was a jealousy or simply disdain.
"Fools" He mutter under his breath as needlessly a hand fell to his side and tightly grip the holt of his sword.

At some point, a bottle of strong ale had found its way to his free hand, and quite often and quickly, it found its way to his lips. It was only after he started walking that he realised his destination. The temple. Why, he was not sure. To what end, he did not know. But sitting idle was not something he could continue doing. If he could not get answers from men then maybe he should try the gods. He would have to pass the location of the incident. Not wanting to get drawn in to what ever was happening there he approach cautiously and without a torch. Noting the scene had since been cleared a quick investigation told him more had arrived and they had left in the direction of the temple.

Despite since being disturbed, the scene was still a sight to behold. Aliseth walk amongst the towering shards of ice, stepping over the blood stained snow. He investigated the icy prison from which the blightborn had escaped. He stepped back through the battle that had transpired. All the while he took a swig for every memory he had. His recollections of the event soon came to an end just as too did the ale in his bottle. With nothing left to drink or ponder, and finding no relief here, Aliseth made the track back towards the tavern. A sluggish sway starting to take a hold of his movements.

-

Arriving at the eye of the beholder he threw the doors open as he stood in the entrance. The cold winds of outside bellowing in past him, firelight dancing across his proud armor and highlighting the recent scars made across it. His eyes were tired and weary yet his chin still remain high with authority. His jaw was clenched tight as he scan the room, looking for, waiting for, someone to challenge him. Of course he was breaking the rules but right now he did t give a fuck.

"Ale." He called to no one in particular as he approached the bar and took a seat in an empty space.
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