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<blockquote data-quote="Lazybones" data-source="post: 7401101" data-attributes="member: 143"><p>Chapter 150</p><p></p><p>The tavern was a real dive, but Kosk had been in worse places. The impressions upon his senses were familiar enough, from the soft clink of bottles and cups to the stink of the bar and its patrons. The place was less than half full, but it was still early.</p><p></p><p>“Another?”</p><p></p><p>Kosk lifted his eyes to see the bartender standing in front of him. He nodded. The big human didn’t bother getting a new cup, just poured a splash of amber liquid into his empty one.</p><p></p><p>The bar hadn’t been built for dwarves, and his chin barely cleared it. It made it awkward to reach up and grab the cup, but he wasn’t drunk enough yet for it to be an issue. But before he could swallow the fiery liquor there was another interruption.</p><p></p><p>“Are you Kosk Stonefist?”</p><p></p><p>Kosk slowly lowered the cup back to the surface of the bar before he turned toward the man who’d asked the question.</p><p></p><p>He didn’t look like he fit in this place, or that he was even old enough to drink, for that matter. But the manner of his clothes, the way he looked, and even the way he spoke was instantly familiar. The long robe with its ample sleeves was similar to the garb that Kosk had worn until recently. The burned fragments of that garment were probably rotting in a heap back in the Silverpeak Valley, he thought.</p><p></p><p>The young monk was trying not to look around at his surroundings while he waited for Kosk to respond. Probably his first time in a place like this, the dwarf thought. “What do you want?” he asked.</p><p></p><p>“I am to give you this,” the monk said, producing a small, tightly-wound scroll from the sleeve of his robe. When Kosk failed to take it, he placed it on the bar, selecting a spot that was not damp with sweat and spilled liquor. There was more of the former than the latter; drink cost money. “Abbot Anaeus would like to you to call upon him at the Monastery of the Quiet Path. It’s not far from the city, there are instructions within.” He nodded toward the scroll.</p><p></p><p>“Quiet Path,” Kosk said with a snort of amusement.</p><p></p><p>The monk didn’t respond, he just stood there looking uncomfortable. Finally, Kosk said, “You’ve delivered your message and done your duty, boy.”</p><p></p><p>The monk offered a curt bow and turned to leave. But as he stepped away from the bar he nearly collided with a big hulk of a man who’d been making his way there. From the unsteady way he walked the brute had been drinking longer than Kosk had, but he reacted quickly to the inconvenience even as the monk slid smoothly out of his way.</p><p></p><p>“Watch where you goin’, boy!” he growled.</p><p></p><p>“Excuse me, sir,” the monk said, offering a nod that wasn’t deep enough to offer any real courtesy.</p><p></p><p>Either the drunk sensed some of the insult in the young man’s conduct, or he was just looking for a fight. “I’ll teach you some manners,” he said, lunging at the monk with a bare-armed sweep.</p><p></p><p>The monk barely moved, just shifted slightly to the side, but it caused the wild swing to miss him entirely. “I will be leaving now, sir,” he said, stepping to the other side to avoid his off-balanced stagger.</p><p></p><p>But the brute wasn’t as drunk as he seemed, or his anger had allowed him to burn through it, for he quickly recovered and came at the monk again, trying to block his escape and pin him against the bar. For a moment it looked as though he had his quarry trapped, and his lips twisted into a feral grin as he delivered an overhanded strike that might have knocked loose a few teeth if it had connected. But again the monk shifted, dropping into a smooth tuck that took him out of the path of the attack moments before the big man’s fist slammed into the bar with enough force to knock over several of the cups and bottles resting on its surface. The bartender spat out a curse as he darted to catch a mostly-full bottle before it could roll of the edge of the bar and shatter on the floor. A few steps closer to the fight, Kosk watched as his cup fell over onto its side, spilling its contents.</p><p></p><p>“Bloody hell,” the dwarf said.</p><p></p><p>“I’ll get you!” the drunk roared. The hand he’d slammed into the bar was twisted at an unnatural angle, but he hardly seemed to notice it in his rage. The monk had achieved the center of the room and had fallen into a more obviously defensive stance, his eyes flicking toward the exit as if gauging his chances of reaching it before the brute could launch another assault.</p><p></p><p>His caution seemed well founded as the big drunkard spun and launched himself again, but he barely managed two steps before Kosk hopped down off his barstool and met him from the side. The drunk sensed his approach and launched a reflexive attack with his good hand, but the blow never landed. In a blur of motion the dwarf caught his arm and used his momentum to flip him end-over-end, a rotation that ended with him slamming hard onto the floor. The drunk clearly felt <em>that</em> impact, but even so he still tried to get up. Or at least he tried until Kosk stepped forward and delivered an open-palm strike to his face that snapped his head back into the floor. That time he stayed there, blood seeping through the sides of his shattered nose.</p><p></p><p>Kosk smacked his hands together and looked up to see the monk staring at him with a stunned look on his face. “My path isn’t a quiet one,” he said.</p><p></p><p>The monk’s expression changed briefly before he snapped his head down in another bow. The look had been there for only a moment, but it was enough to cut through both the drunken haze Kosk had been working on and the edges of his anger that the encounter had stirred. The dwarf watched as the young man turned and left the tavern. When he turned back to the bar he mostly just felt empty.</p><p></p><p>“I think you’ve done enough drinking here,” the bartender said.</p><p></p><p>“Yeah,” Kosk said as he tossed a few coins up on the bar. He reached up and grabbed the scroll that the monk had left for him, then followed him out.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Lazybones, post: 7401101, member: 143"] Chapter 150 The tavern was a real dive, but Kosk had been in worse places. The impressions upon his senses were familiar enough, from the soft clink of bottles and cups to the stink of the bar and its patrons. The place was less than half full, but it was still early. “Another?” Kosk lifted his eyes to see the bartender standing in front of him. He nodded. The big human didn’t bother getting a new cup, just poured a splash of amber liquid into his empty one. The bar hadn’t been built for dwarves, and his chin barely cleared it. It made it awkward to reach up and grab the cup, but he wasn’t drunk enough yet for it to be an issue. But before he could swallow the fiery liquor there was another interruption. “Are you Kosk Stonefist?” Kosk slowly lowered the cup back to the surface of the bar before he turned toward the man who’d asked the question. He didn’t look like he fit in this place, or that he was even old enough to drink, for that matter. But the manner of his clothes, the way he looked, and even the way he spoke was instantly familiar. The long robe with its ample sleeves was similar to the garb that Kosk had worn until recently. The burned fragments of that garment were probably rotting in a heap back in the Silverpeak Valley, he thought. The young monk was trying not to look around at his surroundings while he waited for Kosk to respond. Probably his first time in a place like this, the dwarf thought. “What do you want?” he asked. “I am to give you this,” the monk said, producing a small, tightly-wound scroll from the sleeve of his robe. When Kosk failed to take it, he placed it on the bar, selecting a spot that was not damp with sweat and spilled liquor. There was more of the former than the latter; drink cost money. “Abbot Anaeus would like to you to call upon him at the Monastery of the Quiet Path. It’s not far from the city, there are instructions within.” He nodded toward the scroll. “Quiet Path,” Kosk said with a snort of amusement. The monk didn’t respond, he just stood there looking uncomfortable. Finally, Kosk said, “You’ve delivered your message and done your duty, boy.” The monk offered a curt bow and turned to leave. But as he stepped away from the bar he nearly collided with a big hulk of a man who’d been making his way there. From the unsteady way he walked the brute had been drinking longer than Kosk had, but he reacted quickly to the inconvenience even as the monk slid smoothly out of his way. “Watch where you goin’, boy!” he growled. “Excuse me, sir,” the monk said, offering a nod that wasn’t deep enough to offer any real courtesy. Either the drunk sensed some of the insult in the young man’s conduct, or he was just looking for a fight. “I’ll teach you some manners,” he said, lunging at the monk with a bare-armed sweep. The monk barely moved, just shifted slightly to the side, but it caused the wild swing to miss him entirely. “I will be leaving now, sir,” he said, stepping to the other side to avoid his off-balanced stagger. But the brute wasn’t as drunk as he seemed, or his anger had allowed him to burn through it, for he quickly recovered and came at the monk again, trying to block his escape and pin him against the bar. For a moment it looked as though he had his quarry trapped, and his lips twisted into a feral grin as he delivered an overhanded strike that might have knocked loose a few teeth if it had connected. But again the monk shifted, dropping into a smooth tuck that took him out of the path of the attack moments before the big man’s fist slammed into the bar with enough force to knock over several of the cups and bottles resting on its surface. The bartender spat out a curse as he darted to catch a mostly-full bottle before it could roll of the edge of the bar and shatter on the floor. A few steps closer to the fight, Kosk watched as his cup fell over onto its side, spilling its contents. “Bloody hell,” the dwarf said. “I’ll get you!” the drunk roared. The hand he’d slammed into the bar was twisted at an unnatural angle, but he hardly seemed to notice it in his rage. The monk had achieved the center of the room and had fallen into a more obviously defensive stance, his eyes flicking toward the exit as if gauging his chances of reaching it before the brute could launch another assault. His caution seemed well founded as the big drunkard spun and launched himself again, but he barely managed two steps before Kosk hopped down off his barstool and met him from the side. The drunk sensed his approach and launched a reflexive attack with his good hand, but the blow never landed. In a blur of motion the dwarf caught his arm and used his momentum to flip him end-over-end, a rotation that ended with him slamming hard onto the floor. The drunk clearly felt [i]that[/i] impact, but even so he still tried to get up. Or at least he tried until Kosk stepped forward and delivered an open-palm strike to his face that snapped his head back into the floor. That time he stayed there, blood seeping through the sides of his shattered nose. Kosk smacked his hands together and looked up to see the monk staring at him with a stunned look on his face. “My path isn’t a quiet one,” he said. The monk’s expression changed briefly before he snapped his head down in another bow. The look had been there for only a moment, but it was enough to cut through both the drunken haze Kosk had been working on and the edges of his anger that the encounter had stirred. The dwarf watched as the young man turned and left the tavern. When he turned back to the bar he mostly just felt empty. “I think you’ve done enough drinking here,” the bartender said. “Yeah,” Kosk said as he tossed a few coins up on the bar. He reached up and grabbed the scroll that the monk had left for him, then followed him out. [/QUOTE]
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