Even Newer(er) Tavern Thread: The Hanged Man

[WEContact]

The eladrin nearly started at the half-elf's appearance at his table. He unknitted his fingers from on his chest, realizing that he had managed to shoot right past 'quietly unobtrusive' to 'overtly unobtrusive'. Nalkyr grimaced, offering her a shrug.

"Apologies." he said, doing his best not to lisp. "Got distwa-"

Nalkyr paused. He hated R's.

"Got distwact- hmmf. Got distracted." he managed. The young eladrin motioned to the chair next to him. "Pwease take a seat. Don't mean to be unsociable."

Nalkyr drew back his hood, the awkward mangling accent having marked his disfugrement well enough. He twitched a smile at the half-elf, emphasizing the side of his mouth that worked well enough.

"Nalkyr Vai." he said, tapping a finger to his chest. Nalkyr glanced past her at the bar. "I should tell them, huh."

Later. He wasn't in the mood to drink. This was more a business trip than it was a matter of leisure, anyway. The eladrin returned his eyes and attention to the half-elf, raising both eyebrows in question.

"Who do I have the pweasure- the pweasure of-" Nalkyr grunted, sublimating his frustration. "What's y'name?"

"My name is Caim d'Letheon," she answers, still unsmiling. She slides over to the elf's booth. Her gaze flicks from Nalkyr's eyes to the scar, then back. "Is that a story that you share, or that you keep to yourself?"

 

[Pliantreality]

Both Nalkyr's eyebrows shot up and he pressed his lips together in a thin line. She was... straightforward. The eladrin reminded himself that there was nothing truly wrong with that, and he'd invited the curiosity by pulling back his hood. All the same, Nalkyr felt the warm thrum of embarrassment creep up the back of his neck.

"I share when asked." Nalkyr said, fighting the urge to pull his hood back up. "But I'm afwaid you'll be disappointed. S'not weally intewesting."

Nalkyr drew a forearm across his mouth. The scar tissue puckered up his lip, and the speech impediment was consequent to not being able to fully close that side of his mouth. The other consequence was that, at times like these when he was talking overmuch, Nalkyr ran the risk of accidentally drooling.

"Was young. Vewy young. Thought I could handle a life of adventuwing." Nalkyr said slowly, distilling his tale. There was more to it than that. His father's reputation, the death of his mother. But at its core, Nalkyr's attempt to run away had been just that- he wanted to be an adventurer. "Wan- Wan- hmmf. Left home with my father's blades. Bandit cut my face and stole the blades."

Nalkyr rolled another shrug, then wiped at his mouth again.

"There awe plenty of ways to learn humility. That was mine." Nalkyr twitchied his lips in a momentary smile. "Wish my lesson didn't make it so hawd to dwink soup, though."

 

[Son of Meepo]

"Not to worry Nalkyr," chimes in the grinning lad named Wat. "The ladies love scars if you know what I mean."

Wat sips a bit of his brew and wipes his mouth.

"But you'll want to think of a better story than that if you aim to impress them."

 

[WEContact]

Caim whirls; she hadn't noticed the priest's approach. A temperavir, like herself. Ah, yes, she did hear him try to introduce himself over the commotion a short while ago. "Wat, wasn't it? I assume you've got a better story of your own; you realize that you're obligated to share it, now." Caim finds the young clergyman's cheer grating, but she has the decency and self-control to keep any trace of her irritation out of her tone. On the other hand, no one would accuse her of being warm.

 

[Son of Meepo]

Wat shrugs. "I don't really have much of a story to tell. That's why I'm here. I figure I can find something more interesting than temple life... and if I'm lucky, maybe I'll find the greatest treasure in all the land..."

Lost in thought for a moment, Wat idly thumbs the side of his mug. He looks back at the lady warrior who asked him the question, a small smile creeps across Wat's face. He'd not really seen to many woman like Caim, at least not where he lived. She was certainly... different.

"Can I order you another drink?"

 

[pathfinderq1]

The young human woman with the eyes of a lioness continued to watch the chaos that passed for normality in the main room of the Hanged Man tavern. Most of the places she had been lately were much quieter, and it was going to take her a while to be able to keep track of all the different activities and conversations in such a busy place.

OOC: Still here, and still building/editing character sheet. Lenyara, level 3 human Scout; Pack outcast refluffed as Pride outcast/werelioness.

 

[JoeNotCharles]

Wat shrugs. "I don't really have much of a story to tell. That's why I'm here. I figure I can find something more interesting than temple life... and if I'm lucky, maybe I'll find the greatest treasure in all the land..."

Someone behind Wat clears their throat, harshly. It is the severe-looking cleric with close-cropped blonde hair. But when he speaks, his voice is polite, almost friendly. "Pardon me, I overheard what you said," he says. "My name is Tarkus, a warrior in service to Juna. May I ask what you found so onerous about temple service? Many people find great honour and fulfillment in serving the gods."

 

[Son of Meepo]

"Oh, it's not that it's onerous at all. In fact, it had all the comforts one could ever want. It's just..."

Wat is unsure how to continue and struggles for words for a moment.

"My father is high priest of the temple, and let's just say he his expectations of my priestly duties are a little too much to bear."

 

[Pliantreality]

"Not to worry Nalkyr, the ladies love scars if you know what I mean."

Wat sips a bit of his brew and wipes his mouth.

"But you'll want to think of a better story than that if you aim to impress them."

The disfigured eladrin fought a losing battle against the bright red flush that crept up his neck and across his face. His hand groped for a mug of ale that wasn't there. Wordlessly, Nalkyr rose, moving to the bar. It felt like a facile thing to be embarrassed about- he'd had the scar and story for years. All the same, they were both still a sore spot on his pride.

"My name is Nalkyr Vai." he murmered quietly, letting the bartender see his face before he tugged his hood back in place. "Ale, stwong. If you pwease."

The eladrin winced. R's. He hated R's. Nalkyr drifted his gaze back to the table momentarily.

"Wat, wasn't it? I assume you've got a better story of your own; you realize that you're obligated to share it, now."

Nalkyr had nothing to add as he resumed his seat, sulking within the confines of his hood. Of course the story wasn't good, he brooded, since he'd never bothered trying to spice it up. There was something sacrosanct about the banal misfortune of the whole event.

The young eladrin took a breath and a long sip of his drink, pushing past his wounded pride. It really wasn't a good tale, all things considered, and the man hadn't really been seeking to get him riled up. At least Nalkyr didn't think that had been his intention.

Someone behind Wat clears their throat, harshly. It is the severe-looking cleric with close-cropped blonde hair. But when he speaks, his voice is polite, almost friendly. "Pardon me, I overheard what you said," he says. "My name is Tarkus, a warrior in service to Juna. May I ask what you found so onerous about temple service? Many people find great honour and fulfillment in serving the gods."

A sudden burst of claustraphobia set in as yet another person found their way to Nalkyr's table. But then, it was a tavern. And he was here ostensibly to fall in with other adventurers. Part of Nalkyr was bemoaning how little he'd listened to his father's admonishments of the adventuring life. The other parts remembered the visceral thrill of his last encounter on the open road- the dance of steel and will.

 

[WEContact]

Wat shrugs. "I don't really have much of a story to tell. That's why I'm here. I figure I can find something more interesting than temple life... and if I'm lucky, maybe I'll find the greatest treasure in all the land..."

Lost in thought for a moment, Wat idly thumbs the side of his mug. He looks back at the lady warrior who asked him the question, a small smile creeps across Wat's face. He'd not really seen to many woman like Caim, at least not where he lived. She was certainly... different.

"Can I order you another drink?"

For a moment Caim doesn't do anything but gape- she's caught entirely off guard. Then, however, she breaks into a smile for the first time since entering the tavern and howls with the sort of laughter that sounds like it's at someone's expense. She laughs until she tears up, and, struggling to speak clearly, hails a barmaid. "Exc- excuse me, michk-miss, haha. Another bourbon, please." She turns back to Wat, smirking. "Oh, I didn't answer your question! How rude of me! No, you may not, young man."