The drenched twenty-something quietly slipped in through the side door of the seedy tavern. Afterall, best not to make scene on entrance if the wrong people were present. Besides, he just wanted a drink, not a fight.
The young man moved to the bar, throwing off his cloak hood to reveal dampened, unkept blonde hair that tumbled over his brow. He let out a heavy sigh as the barkeep slid him a tall mug of watered down grog, the only drink the errant man could afford.
"'Oy there, Dalon. Ye be drinkin' grog now, eh? What, yer coffers be dried up ahready?!" A boisterous voice bellowed from a huge lighthouse of a man, complete with missing teeth and a rancid odor. Dalon couldn't help but shudder as the man's breath crept into his nostrils, violating every ideal of hygiene he'd ever held. This Luskans were certainly a different sort than those in his home in Arabel. Hell, why did he leave Arabel?
He'd had a decent home and the perfect opportunity to enter the city guard, after his father, a competent archer. There he had money, friends, security...
...which was exactly why he had left.
Dalon sighed in relief as the lighthouse's voice pressed no further; he was getting tired of that lout pestering him, bullying him. When Dalon had come to Luskan, he'd had money. Buying friends at the tavern and skilled cutpurses had changed that in record time, and now he sat at the bar with a light pouch and heavy spirits, stewing over pale grog that he was certain held more water than it did rum.
And the door flew open.
"About time we got us a bar!" a diminuitive hin hopped through the portal, placing his fists on his hips and glancing about as though this was his ancestral home. He was followed by a tatooed human who said nothing, and finally a young, attractive half-elven lass who seemed quite happy to be some place new...at least until she caught the scent of it.
The clamorous din of the patrons seemed to pay no heed to the recent arrivals, save for the lighthouse who rubbed his meaty paws together like an old miser preparing to count coin. The new three moved to a corner table from which the hin promptly got up, spying a human lass he thought to be a "sure bet."
"So...when's the last time you had it short and sweet?" the hin placed his hand on a table leg, crossing his ankles as he leaned hard against it. He served up a cocky, toothy grin as his eyebrows bobbed comically above his goggles.
The lighthouse saw his opportunity, stepping over and sliding the table further from the halfling. As the table slid away, the halfling didn't shift, but instead stood in the exact same position he had been; hand extended, leaning to one side, ankles crossed. A few seconds passed before the hin stood up tall and craned his neck to regard his huge bully's face.
"Ya know, I was kinda usin' that." The hin folded his arms over his chest, pursing his lips a bit as he regarded the huge lout.
"Yer flirtin wit me girl, boyo."
The hin recoiled and batted the air in front of his face. "Oh, gods, you smell AWFUL!"
The lighthouse sneered, showing off his absence of many teeth. "Why don' you git, halfman?"
The halfling abruptly stood up tall (or as tall as he could), furrowing his brow in a deep, menacing frown. "You did -not- just call me 'halfman'..."
And the halfling's human companion intervened. His stark black hair hung to the sides of his head, and stubble covered his cheeks and shadowed his neck. "You should not bully my friend." He spoke calmly and concisely; there was no compromise in his tone.
Another slightly less large but just as bad smelling lout joined the former, who promptly folded his arms over his barrel chest in a smug grin. Meanwhile, a third had moved to the half-elven lass, offering lewd gestures and prurient glances, much to her dismay as she continually scooted away from him and choked against his stench.
Dalon watched all this, and a wide, conniving grin took over his lips. He slid off his bar stool and took it in hand, grabbing another. He crept up behind the two louts, setting them down just behind them and saying not a word as he motioned for the bartender to slide his grog down close to the louts. As he stepped across the bar to the half-elf's table, he took a passed out patron's bottle in hand, turning it over in his grasp so he held it by the neck. Frarry momentarily reprieved from sneering at the lighthouse, curiously watching the young, blonde human pass.
As the third lout ogled her, Vara fixed her eyes on a young, blonde man making his way through the crowded tavern toward her table. He wore an easy, confident grin and nonchalantly switched his grip on a large, empty bottle in his right hand. He picked his way through the crowds with a smooth, practiced step, and judging by his build, he was at least moderately strong. He spun the bottle on the ball of his hand as he approached; the ogler was oblivious to his approach.
Dalon smiled a warm, coy grin and nodded toward the half-elven woman. "Good eve, miss. I'll only be a moment." A swift motion sent the bottle crashing over the brute's head, in turn sprawling him on the floor. The din of the tavern all but covered up the sound, and Dalon leaned close, whispering in to the half-elf's ear, "Would you mind waiting by the door? You're going to have to leave, in a moment."
Dalon picked his way through the tavern back to where the human and hin were exchanging words with the two huge louts...more accurately, the hin was exchanging words with the two louts; the human stood stoically, though the rage in his eyes was growing with each passing second. The young, blonde man from Arabel slid behind the huge two louts.
"And -another- thing! We hin may be short, but not where it counts, if you get what I mean, a'right, ugly?!" The halfling barred his arm across his human friend's knees. "You're sooo lucky I'm holding this guy back. It's nothin for him ta kill a man, don't think he's afraid to end it at any moment!"
The two louts turned their monstrous necks to regard each other and chuckle...well, they started to, but a pair of arms shot up and wrapped about each their necks.
Dalon jerked back, tumbling the men back over the barstools and sending them sprawling on the floor. Dalon grabbed his mug of grog and dumped it over the lighthouse.
"What, drinking grog, now?" Dalon smirked and stepped forward, placing a hand on each the hin's and human's shoulders. "I'm Dalon, well met."
And he promptly bolted for the door as the tavern erupted into a brawl.
The Flight of the Arrow
The Flight of the Arrow
"Judging by his penguin, he wields considerable power..."
Legends strut...everywhere.
Legends strut...everywhere.
The pair shoved the gates open, stepping off the dirt path and on to smooth, cobbled stone.
"Ah," Dalon sighed, "Waterdeep."
Lightning flashed, and a slow drizzle quickly turned in a torrential downpour.
"Bloody hell." Dalon's shoulders slumped, and he and his massive companion began their walk into the heart of the city, their moods doused by the sudden, unrelenting rain.
"Hm. Rain is common in this land."
Dalon looked up to his large friend, chuckling a bit as the rain cascaded down the red tattoo that adorned his forehead.
"Bear, your wisdom knows no bounds."
The huge Uthgardt nodded. "My people have a long history with the land and her weather."
Dalon rubbed the back of his neck and raised an eyebrow. He stared at Bear in disbelief for a few moments, turning his eyes back to the road just in time to avoid further flattening the still form of an unnaturally large rat. He hopped around the festering vermin, glancing back with a disgusted visage.
"Well...that was hardly splendorous..."
The massive Uthgardt allowed himself a slight grin. "In my land, we eat what we kill. These city folk are wasteful."
Dalon paused, taking a few moments to decide whether or not his companion was serious or making a joke. He gave up and shrugged, jogging after the longstriding Bear.
"Gods willing, Shade will be here, soon..."
"Ah," Dalon sighed, "Waterdeep."
Lightning flashed, and a slow drizzle quickly turned in a torrential downpour.
"Bloody hell." Dalon's shoulders slumped, and he and his massive companion began their walk into the heart of the city, their moods doused by the sudden, unrelenting rain.
"Hm. Rain is common in this land."
Dalon looked up to his large friend, chuckling a bit as the rain cascaded down the red tattoo that adorned his forehead.
"Bear, your wisdom knows no bounds."
The huge Uthgardt nodded. "My people have a long history with the land and her weather."
Dalon rubbed the back of his neck and raised an eyebrow. He stared at Bear in disbelief for a few moments, turning his eyes back to the road just in time to avoid further flattening the still form of an unnaturally large rat. He hopped around the festering vermin, glancing back with a disgusted visage.
"Well...that was hardly splendorous..."
The massive Uthgardt allowed himself a slight grin. "In my land, we eat what we kill. These city folk are wasteful."
Dalon paused, taking a few moments to decide whether or not his companion was serious or making a joke. He gave up and shrugged, jogging after the longstriding Bear.
"Gods willing, Shade will be here, soon..."
"Judging by his penguin, he wields considerable power..."
Legends strut...everywhere.
Legends strut...everywhere.
The pair shoved the gates open, stepping off the dirt path and on to smooth, cobbled stone.
"Ugh," Dalon groaned, "Waterdeep."
The sun struggled to pierce the clouds, shrouding the city in a dull, melancholy glow that accompanied a soft drizzle that was barely enough to slicken the streets.
"Still bloody raining..." Dalon sighed, and Shade nodded in his grim fashion.
"Vell, you should have brought a parasol, yeah?" Vara strode after the two, smiling coyly as the rain pattered against the fabric dome that she held overhead.
They walked on, Dalon constantly pushing his wet locks from his eyes and Vara reminding him why he had to do so.
"You should be making zhe best of it, yeah? Ve vill not be going back vhere ve came from."
"..."
"Dalon."
"..."
"Dalon."
"..."
"It vas your idea to leave Nevervinter in zhe first place, so stop pouting!"
"We're not far from the Safehaven," is all he had in reply. Shade chuckled.
Much had changed since he'd last stepped foot in Waterdeep. They'd fought a cult of Cyricists, exposed a Banite militia, and played cards with a troll, all for the sake of the people. Well, the mass number of Cyricist converts in Neverwinter hadn't been too enthused with their leadership being...impeached...and the Tyrran city was struggling to regain its feet following the removal of its Banite militia captain and his like-minded honor guard. They were honored and knighted for their efforts, and with the immediate and most dangerous threats to the city vanquished, the newly titled Knights of Neverwinter could move on to other areas of the realms, lending their aid where it was needed.
Waterdeep seemed like a logical place to start. It was centralized in that part of the Realms, and had troubles enough of its own, if Dalon remembered correctly. Plagues of rats, thieves abundant, an inactive watch...yes, it was a good place to start.
They stepped into the Safehaven, slightly soggy but feeling stale, and gathered around the fire. They were short three; Frarry had fallen during the urban war against the Cyricists, and Gael hadn't been seen in over a month. Calcinar had returned home to care for his ailing father and promised he would rejoin them, but that was an indefinate number of tendays away.
Dalon sighed heavily as he stared into the fire, and FyeVara and Shade echoed his sentiments.
"You know," Dalon exhaled, "we taught that bloody troll a lesson."
"Ugh," Dalon groaned, "Waterdeep."
The sun struggled to pierce the clouds, shrouding the city in a dull, melancholy glow that accompanied a soft drizzle that was barely enough to slicken the streets.
"Still bloody raining..." Dalon sighed, and Shade nodded in his grim fashion.
"Vell, you should have brought a parasol, yeah?" Vara strode after the two, smiling coyly as the rain pattered against the fabric dome that she held overhead.
They walked on, Dalon constantly pushing his wet locks from his eyes and Vara reminding him why he had to do so.
"You should be making zhe best of it, yeah? Ve vill not be going back vhere ve came from."
"..."
"Dalon."
"..."
"Dalon."
"..."
"It vas your idea to leave Nevervinter in zhe first place, so stop pouting!"
"We're not far from the Safehaven," is all he had in reply. Shade chuckled.
Much had changed since he'd last stepped foot in Waterdeep. They'd fought a cult of Cyricists, exposed a Banite militia, and played cards with a troll, all for the sake of the people. Well, the mass number of Cyricist converts in Neverwinter hadn't been too enthused with their leadership being...impeached...and the Tyrran city was struggling to regain its feet following the removal of its Banite militia captain and his like-minded honor guard. They were honored and knighted for their efforts, and with the immediate and most dangerous threats to the city vanquished, the newly titled Knights of Neverwinter could move on to other areas of the realms, lending their aid where it was needed.
Waterdeep seemed like a logical place to start. It was centralized in that part of the Realms, and had troubles enough of its own, if Dalon remembered correctly. Plagues of rats, thieves abundant, an inactive watch...yes, it was a good place to start.
They stepped into the Safehaven, slightly soggy but feeling stale, and gathered around the fire. They were short three; Frarry had fallen during the urban war against the Cyricists, and Gael hadn't been seen in over a month. Calcinar had returned home to care for his ailing father and promised he would rejoin them, but that was an indefinate number of tendays away.
Dalon sighed heavily as he stared into the fire, and FyeVara and Shade echoed his sentiments.
"You know," Dalon exhaled, "we taught that bloody troll a lesson."
"Judging by his penguin, he wields considerable power..."
Legends strut...everywhere.
Legends strut...everywhere.