Lord_Paladin
03-09-2005, 10:54 AM
There was a somber mood cast over the candle lit tavern, but then winter often had such effects of the moods of a people. There was something about the oppressive skies and chilling winds that seemed to bring the introvert out in everyone…
“Another round on me! For everyone!” The repugnant fellow at the far table said, amidst happy cheers from the drunken followers he had amassed.
Well… everyone that wasn’t drunk.
Galin bent his neck against the cold wind that rushed in through the main door of the inn common room as it was opened. The newcomer took a moment to shake the fresh snow form his cowl and boots before closing the door behind them. A moment later he dropped himself at the table with his two brothers.
“What did you find?” Dayn asked, his voice level.
“Nothing new, but it seems the stories were true. Or home is no more.” Alric, the youngest, said as he motioned for one of the serving girls to bring him something warm to drink.
“Couldn’t you have found a table closer to the fireplace? It’s as cold as home out there!” Alric was already smirking even as the words left his mouth.
“Then why are you complaining, little brother? You were always the one who ran outside before his snow clothes were all on.” Galin held back his laughter by taking another swig of his spiced wine.
Dayn watched the faces of his older and younger brother; though they put on a brave face they were just as worn as he was. The fires of their home still plagued all of them in their sleep, but it seems that had… outrun… the news of what happened. He still could not believe what had happened to them over the last three nights. It was a whirlwind of emotion, and hazy, half remembered events. Fire, shouting, swords, and blood; it was as if some horrible bard’s tale had come to life, and all they could remember was the music of the moments.
“What should we do now, Galin?” Alric looked to the eldest of them for guidance, but Galin didn’t know any better now then they did yesterday.
“I don’t know, little brother. Father always talked about his cousin who married some lord out here, but since she took on the lord’s name… I don’t know how to find her, or even if she would help us…”
“Well, we must come up with something quick. Our coin is running low, and if the storm keeps us as it has been, there will be little work for us to find.” Dayn said over the rim of his goblet. He watched Galin and Alric share a glance between them before staring into the bottoms of their mugs. They had all been changed by what happened.
Dayn took the lull in their conversation to run through their situation once more. During the chaos of the attack their father, injured and bleeding in their room, shouting for them to rise and flee, roused them from their slumber. To the sounds of battle they had managed to grab their swords, and Alric his bag before they stormed out of their door with barely enough time for clothes. At the moment, all they had were their worn, and very plain working clothes, which thankfully meant they had enough to protect them from the snows of winter. What is also meant was that no one would take them for the lordlings they were. On top of that, it wasn’t like they could go to a bank and draw money on their torched castle in an entirely separate kingdom. For some reason, Galin had kept the presence of mind at the time to load up their saddlebags with some rations and a few other necessities that were kept in the stables before they rode for their lives. Twelve of their father’s best guards died getting them to the temple safely.
The way they were sitting at their table, Galin and Alric had their backs to the door, and Dayn sat opposite them with his back to the innkeeper. They were halfway through the common room, so anyone coming through the door would have had to come a good ways to go between the door and reaching them. It was a measure of Dayn’s distraction that a man, with an obviously possessed look on his face, and a hand resting on a short sword, could have made it within two arms length of them before he noticed. To be honest, it must have been pure luck that he even noticed. Were it not for the pop of a log in the fireplace, Dayn wouldn’t have noticed the orange glow of the fire on bared steel. It was Galin, however, that reacted first, noticing the look of surprise on Dayn’s usually thoughtful face. Putting an arm to Alric, Galin pushed them both out of the way and off the bench as a sword blade came crashing down between them. Dayn reached for his sword before he realized that both his and Galin’s blades were upstairs in their room. Cursing himself a fool, he stood up on his bench and threw himself at their attacker before he could right his balance. At the sudden commotion of the common room, its occupants immediately stood up, which meant Dayn and the assailant went crashing through bench of the table behind them. Stunned for a moment by the crash, Dayn rolled off, or rather was pushed off, of the man with the sword as he tried to stand once more. Slightly dazed by the unexpected movement of the room, he took a moment to look for his pray, which gave Alric the precious time he needed to stand and draw his sword.
“Why—why are you after us?!” Alric yelled at the man, holding his sword in a nervous two hands. Neither of them had had any –real- combat experience. They had only sparred with each other and the guards, never when their life was really in danger, and they had never taken a life before. The assassin whirled about, facing Alric and bringing his sword about in an attempt to cut the youngest in half. Raising his blade to block the blow, Alric staggered backwards from the force of the blow and his own nerves. Shaking his head and coming to his feet, Dayn got ready to try and punch the man as hard as they could when suddenly Galin appeared, a chair raised over his head and grunting as he brought it down of the back of the man’s head. With a loud crunch and a thud the small battle was over, their opponent lying unconscious on the ground.
It was a dazed moment before the brothers were all standing again, admiring their handiwork.
“All in all, for our first fight, we didn’t do half bad!” Alric chimed in, trying to break the silence. He was instead met by a level look from both Dayn, and Galin. It was then that they realized everyone was looking at them funny. Dayn’s eyes met Galin, and he nodded, the three of them wordlessly headed up to their rooms to talk more of this in private.
“Uh… put it on our tab?” Alric said with an anxious look to the innkeeper, whose wide eyes was still surveying the damage from his stool by the fire.
To be continued…
“Another round on me! For everyone!” The repugnant fellow at the far table said, amidst happy cheers from the drunken followers he had amassed.
Well… everyone that wasn’t drunk.
Galin bent his neck against the cold wind that rushed in through the main door of the inn common room as it was opened. The newcomer took a moment to shake the fresh snow form his cowl and boots before closing the door behind them. A moment later he dropped himself at the table with his two brothers.
“What did you find?” Dayn asked, his voice level.
“Nothing new, but it seems the stories were true. Or home is no more.” Alric, the youngest, said as he motioned for one of the serving girls to bring him something warm to drink.
“Couldn’t you have found a table closer to the fireplace? It’s as cold as home out there!” Alric was already smirking even as the words left his mouth.
“Then why are you complaining, little brother? You were always the one who ran outside before his snow clothes were all on.” Galin held back his laughter by taking another swig of his spiced wine.
Dayn watched the faces of his older and younger brother; though they put on a brave face they were just as worn as he was. The fires of their home still plagued all of them in their sleep, but it seems that had… outrun… the news of what happened. He still could not believe what had happened to them over the last three nights. It was a whirlwind of emotion, and hazy, half remembered events. Fire, shouting, swords, and blood; it was as if some horrible bard’s tale had come to life, and all they could remember was the music of the moments.
“What should we do now, Galin?” Alric looked to the eldest of them for guidance, but Galin didn’t know any better now then they did yesterday.
“I don’t know, little brother. Father always talked about his cousin who married some lord out here, but since she took on the lord’s name… I don’t know how to find her, or even if she would help us…”
“Well, we must come up with something quick. Our coin is running low, and if the storm keeps us as it has been, there will be little work for us to find.” Dayn said over the rim of his goblet. He watched Galin and Alric share a glance between them before staring into the bottoms of their mugs. They had all been changed by what happened.
Dayn took the lull in their conversation to run through their situation once more. During the chaos of the attack their father, injured and bleeding in their room, shouting for them to rise and flee, roused them from their slumber. To the sounds of battle they had managed to grab their swords, and Alric his bag before they stormed out of their door with barely enough time for clothes. At the moment, all they had were their worn, and very plain working clothes, which thankfully meant they had enough to protect them from the snows of winter. What is also meant was that no one would take them for the lordlings they were. On top of that, it wasn’t like they could go to a bank and draw money on their torched castle in an entirely separate kingdom. For some reason, Galin had kept the presence of mind at the time to load up their saddlebags with some rations and a few other necessities that were kept in the stables before they rode for their lives. Twelve of their father’s best guards died getting them to the temple safely.
The way they were sitting at their table, Galin and Alric had their backs to the door, and Dayn sat opposite them with his back to the innkeeper. They were halfway through the common room, so anyone coming through the door would have had to come a good ways to go between the door and reaching them. It was a measure of Dayn’s distraction that a man, with an obviously possessed look on his face, and a hand resting on a short sword, could have made it within two arms length of them before he noticed. To be honest, it must have been pure luck that he even noticed. Were it not for the pop of a log in the fireplace, Dayn wouldn’t have noticed the orange glow of the fire on bared steel. It was Galin, however, that reacted first, noticing the look of surprise on Dayn’s usually thoughtful face. Putting an arm to Alric, Galin pushed them both out of the way and off the bench as a sword blade came crashing down between them. Dayn reached for his sword before he realized that both his and Galin’s blades were upstairs in their room. Cursing himself a fool, he stood up on his bench and threw himself at their attacker before he could right his balance. At the sudden commotion of the common room, its occupants immediately stood up, which meant Dayn and the assailant went crashing through bench of the table behind them. Stunned for a moment by the crash, Dayn rolled off, or rather was pushed off, of the man with the sword as he tried to stand once more. Slightly dazed by the unexpected movement of the room, he took a moment to look for his pray, which gave Alric the precious time he needed to stand and draw his sword.
“Why—why are you after us?!” Alric yelled at the man, holding his sword in a nervous two hands. Neither of them had had any –real- combat experience. They had only sparred with each other and the guards, never when their life was really in danger, and they had never taken a life before. The assassin whirled about, facing Alric and bringing his sword about in an attempt to cut the youngest in half. Raising his blade to block the blow, Alric staggered backwards from the force of the blow and his own nerves. Shaking his head and coming to his feet, Dayn got ready to try and punch the man as hard as they could when suddenly Galin appeared, a chair raised over his head and grunting as he brought it down of the back of the man’s head. With a loud crunch and a thud the small battle was over, their opponent lying unconscious on the ground.
It was a dazed moment before the brothers were all standing again, admiring their handiwork.
“All in all, for our first fight, we didn’t do half bad!” Alric chimed in, trying to break the silence. He was instead met by a level look from both Dayn, and Galin. It was then that they realized everyone was looking at them funny. Dayn’s eyes met Galin, and he nodded, the three of them wordlessly headed up to their rooms to talk more of this in private.
“Uh… put it on our tab?” Alric said with an anxious look to the innkeeper, whose wide eyes was still surveying the damage from his stool by the fire.
To be continued…