Archives: Lost Humanity
Chapter 5: Arrival in Dragon Scale
It was Al and Elainne’s first time to the city of Dragon Scale. The group traveled through the day to reach the city, though only managing to do so as night began to fall. People outside went about their business as the sun set, their faces happily welcoming the small party of people. A weird group had assembled around Al and Elainne, although neither minded the company at all. There was much explaining to be done, but Al would get to that when they reached the inn.
Upon reaching the inn Al moved out of the way for a half elf and a human woman, he bowed to both and gave them a slight smile. The forge could be smelt on the half-elf, and the woman smelled of a child. They smiled at the party and passed by. When coming upon Mieijha they tapped her leg softly.
“Excuse me, miss,” the half-elf spoke softly. “Have you come across a half-elven girl in your travels? She is about yay big and has a look of a smith to her.”
The human woman hushed the half-elven smith. “Pardon my husband, mistress elf. He figures that Air would seek someone of elven heritage to find her father. Air is our niece. She has yet to send word of how she is doing, and it has been two years...”
Al helped Zylanthian off the horse, then tended to helping Myel-Elina off Elainne’s horse. “Sorry to say, sir, madam, but we have not met with any half-elves upon our trip. Perhaps she passed either Myel-Elina or Mieijha in her travels, but she neither passed myself nor my squire Elainne.”
Elainne dismounted and helped Mieijha off the horse. “I’ll take the horses to the stable and deal with the excess, I’ll be back shortly,” she stated. Al nodded and watched his squire go off.
Mieijha thanked Elainne for removing her from the horse and returned her attention to the half-elf and his wife. “I’m sorry, I haven’t run into anyone matching that description. You’d have better luck asking someone like Aroal or Myel-Elina. I haven’t really had contact with anybody since leaving Raiden,” she stated softly. “Of course, had I met such an individual, I’m sure I would have remembered her. Half-elves are not that common, at least...I’ve never thought of them as so.” Shisoughc landed on the elven woman’s shoulder. She rubbed his head affectionately and smiled at the couple. “When are you due?” she asked the human woman.
Myel-Elina thanked Elainne and Al for getting off the horse. Then, she turned to the couple. “I am sorry, but I don’t remember having met that person. I haven’t been in a big town since years, and half-elves are not common, especially in the country.” She thought of what Sara had said before. Everyone has a curse some are just more of a burden than others. “But if I ever meet Air, I promise you that I’ll help her. At least I could send news to you.”
Sara was so dumb founded by the hustle of the city, she inadvertently walk straight in to the wall. “Oops! This is so neat, yet so different,” Sara said. She was like a child walking in to a candy store for the first time. She tried her best not to stare at how people interacted, but couldn’t help herself.
Next to Zylan’s horse, the imposing wolves followed dutifully into the city. Normally, wolves wouldn’t have the bravery to enter such a heavily lived-in area, but these two seemed to stay in relative comfort, assuming they stayed close to their friend. Whatever people walked around looked very uncomfortable as the misunderstood hunters looked at them with low-hanging heads. “It is not too bad here.”
Aroal waited patiently alongside her party as the riders dismounted, remaining outwardly as emotionless and imposing as ever. However, that was broken when she saw Sara walk into a wall. A small smile turned up the corner of her mouth.
The couple sighed. “Well thank you for at least taking the time out of your day to speak to us,” the half-elven male said with a soft bow. “I am Cole, a smith, and this is my wife, Catherine.” The man grinned. “If ever you need a blade sharpened or something worked on, come to me, I’d be glad to work on whatever you need for a discount price.”
Catherine smiled at Mieijha. “Must be that keen elven sense that made you notice.” She rubbed her stomach carefully. “This is the second. I’m about three months in, so another six months before this little one comes into the light.”
Al smiled at the couple. “I have no weapons that I could have worked on, but my squire, or perhaps my party, may be wanting some work done on their weapons.”
Cole examined Al’s sword. “What about your sword? Surely that could use some—”
Al’s eyes narrowed as his voice took on an icy tone. “The sword is in no need of service.” The darkness in his mind had not abated yet. “You had better off to learn that there are some things better left untouched.”
Cole nodded, not offended by the knight’s words. “Very well then. We will trouble you no further. Cath, let’s go.” He ushered his wife away hurriedly but did not explain until they were out of earshot. “The man has an aura of darkness around him. The sword, as well as he, they seem to be cursed.”
Catherine mouthed a small “Oh”, as the two walked off towards their homestead.
Al sighed and muttered to himself. “If the sword doesn’t get me killed, the after affect of the anger will.”
“Only fools and nobles are more blind than I,” Zylan said quietly to Al in reply to his thought.
Aroal watched the couple walk away, then looked at Al. He couldn’t be blamed, the sword had a hold on his emotions. “Let’s get inside,” Aroal said. After spending the whole day on foot keeping up with horses, she was more than happy to find a place to sit and have a good ale.
Myel-Elina tried not to stare at Al. It would be useless and even harmful to stigmatize the warrior’s behavior. She looked at Sara and smiled. At least there was one person whose good mood had not changed. What a pity I cannot play! Music could keep everyone in a good temper, and could help Al in his fight against the sword’s will.
“Well, don’t you think a little music would be pleasureful during our rest? I wonder whether there is already a bard in the inn? If there is none, I, sadly, cannot play with that wound, but I still can sing.” She turned to the group. “Do any of you play an instrument?”
As Aroal entered the inn, she heard Myel-Elina’s question and remembered that she had been injured in the shoulder earlier in the day. Aroal turned to the bard. “Perhaps we should go to one of the local temples,” Aroal suggested to Myel-Elina. “There’s no need for you to suffer with that wound when we can easily get it healed.”
“Thank you for your concern,” Myel-Elina answered to Aroal. “I thankfully accept your offer, if it does not bother you. But, anyway, I don’t think I could play lute before one or two days. Well, Sara, would you like to come with us? I think you’ll enjoy discovering the town...”
Aroal nodded to the bard in her silent way, then slipped the bundle of spears and her pack off her shoulders. She left her gear propped against the wall next to their companion’s table. She didn’t want to take them upstairs just yet, nor did she want to carry it around further than necessary.
Sara was waiting for someone to say they were going to take a stroll through the town. She was squirming and looking around so much you’d think she had to pee. “Oh yes!” Sara said loudly when Myel asked, then she quickly covered her mouth. “Oops, I mean I’d love to tag along; that is if it’s alright with Aroal as well,” she said with a big grin and a softer tone.
“That’s fine,” Aroal replied to Sara with an acknowledging nodded. She turned and stepped back outside, looking up and down the streets. She had passed though Dragon Scale a few times, so she could find the more notable buildings in the city. The temples were further up the main street, near the center of town. Temples were always easy to find, at least.
* * *
Mieijha smiled and went inside the inn. There was little else she could do but purchase the rooms required for the night. Approaching the innkeeper she smiled warmly. “I’d like six rooms, if you please: one for a man and his guide ‘dogs’, two for two women each, one for a single woman and another for a man.”
“I’ve got four rooms,” the innkeeper stated. “I got no rules against dogs, so they can stay, but you’re going to have to rethink your room arrangements.”
Mieijha nodded. “Alright then, we’ll take the four rooms. One for the man and his ‘dogs’, two housing two women each, and the man and his young female companion can sleep in the same room.”
The innkeeper nodded. “Frankly, miss, I don’t care how the rooms are shared. There are two beds per room, and the fee is rather inexpensive. How long are you planning on staying?”
Mieijha bit her lip. “I’m not sure. But I can pay on a day to day basis correct?”
The innkeeper snorted. “First off, let me ask you a personal question.”
“Umm, sure.” Mieijha stated.
“You’re an elf, right?” Mieijha nodded. “You related to Azala?”
“Not to my knowledge....may I ask why?” Mieijha responded.
“No reason. Well, settle up the bill when you’re going to leave. We’re in no rush to take the coppers from your purses just yet. Also, food and wine are separate from the rooms, if you eat here, you have to pay separately.” He handed over four keys and gave her a hearty smile. “Hope you have a lovely stay.”
“Let’s go inside Zylanthian, Elainne will be coming around shortly.” Al took the old man by the arm and guided him into the inn. He looked over to Mieijha while she procured the keys for the room while guiding Zylanthian to a seat. “There’s a seat behind you. You can sit there, we’ll see about getting you some food.”
Zylanthian wasn’t used to being led around by humans at all. The old man peeked open his eyes, only to be blinded by the large fire. He squinted the obsidian eyes shut. Eyes looked over uncomfortably at Wolfgang and Ludwig, but neither seemed to care. They did, however, take prominent places by the fire. Both curled up in front of it, in some sort of attempt to dry off and warm up. Fur, Zylan knew, was harder to dry than skin or clothes. “If they have tea, do get that, would you? Food is only 1/4th of my diet.”
Al chuckled. “Yeah, sure.” He left Zylan in his seat and went to the innkeeper.
“Big dogs,” the innkeeper muttered. “Yes sir, how can I help you?”
“I would like to get some tea for the older gentleman there, also some food would be preferable for my companions and I.” Al forced a small smile.
“Heh. I know that kind of smile. Jo used to make that smile when she had to clean up puke,” the innkeeper stated. “Jo was a good girl, never complained much. I take it that you’re the same.”
“Perhaps,” Al stated. He dropped the forced smile and touched Mieijha’s shoulder. He was still coated in blood, something even more unsettling to the others than seeing a pair of wolves. “The bath...?”
“Around the corner and up the stairs. Water’s heated, a maid will be in to scrub your back if you wish.” The innkeeper put on the tea and came back to the counter. “Anything else you’ll be needing?”
“No thank you, I’m quite content. And, I’d prefer to be alone, at least while I bathe. Thank you for the offer though.” He gave a formal wave and took a key from Mieijha with a wink.
Watching Al go off, Mieijha couldn’t help but feel that Al was hurting more than he showed. The elf sighed as there was little she could do. “Ahem, elf lady,” the innkeeper spoke up behind her. “Take this tea over to the older gentleman in your party. I’ll send one of my barmaids over to you to take your orders in time. We’re not swamped, but we are a little crowded.”
“I understand.” Mieijha took the tea pot and a cup over to Zylanthian’s table and poured him a cup. “There you go Zylanthian,” Mieijha said softly, taking up a seat across the table from him and placing his hand on the cup.
“Ahh, thank you, Miss,” the sage said, lifting the tea up to his nostrils. Fresh. Not his favorite kind, but it wouldn’t be bad. “Ahh... Mossian Blue. A popular flavor. Made a good choice for business at the very least. No one can hate a good cup of this, assuming its warm. Can’t drink it cold. Goes down too much like liquor.” He took a tentative sip, then a sigh of relief. Someone knew how to make tea properly around here. Then again, it wasn’t hard to make this kind. “Thank you...”
Mieijha smiled and handed the old man a key. “This key is for you and your wolves. I told the barkeep that they were your sight, though I didn’t explain much further. I’ll guide you to your room when you feel tired.” She turned away and covered her mouth issuing a small sneeze into her hands. She took out a handkerchief and wiped her nose and hands. “Apparently my nose still acts up in the presence of liquor.”
“And thank you again, kind miss!” Zylan declared, giving her a humble smile. At the sound of her nasal conflict, he gave her a polite excuse. “You know, tea cures everything. You should try it!”
Mieijha gave a weak smile. “I’m not too fond of tea. I’m more of a juice person, sorry to state.” She looked over to the two wolves and smiled. “Your companions did well today, as did you. I’m sure that Al will tell us all about his malady...well, pretty sure.” She covered her nose and mouth with the kerchief again and sneezed into it. “...I think I’ll take you up on that ‘tea will fix it’ theory.” She gave a warm smile and got herself a cup.
“Well, I hate to be a bugger and spoil the surprise, but the more Ludwig thinks about it, the more I think he knows what this malady is,” the old man chuckled, sipping his tea as one might drink fine wine. “Ludwig was always the smart one. But don’t tell Wolfgang that. He will beat the tar right out of the poor boy!”
Zylanthian gave a light whistle and both wolves hurried over and sat very obediently before the blind man. His hands found their heads and he scratched behind their ears gently. The old man held out his cup to them, but neither seemed interested in licking it clean. “No accounting for taste, I suppose. Everyone except for these two sticks in the mud likes Mossian Blue,” he said, putting his cup back on the table. “Nothing better than a good cup of tea.”
Rabbit.
“Oh hush you two!” Zylan said out loud. Of course, the wolves appeared to do nothing more than stare at him. Not even a bark between them. But Zylan could hear their minds communicating between each other. “Neither of you can understand the complexities of tea anyway!”
Simple good. Meat.
“A one track mind, as usual. I swear,” he said to Mieijha, “they just won’t give anything a chance unless it smells like venison! How can they expect to know what they are talking about, especially if they don’t like tea? Who doesn’t like tea? Perhaps, the mentally unsound or dead people, because neither one can manage to hold their cups! But no regular person hates tea and neither should they. Oddballs, they are. Truly incomprehensible people...” he muttered, waving at the two dogs that sat before him.
Mieijha giggled. “Maybe it’s just us old folks,” she said with a small smile. “We have more acquired tastes than the likes of those pups.” She looked to the stairs with a look of worry, thankful that Zylanthian couldn’t see her expression. “...I wonder how long he’s had to deal with his curse,” she expressed her thoughts out loud her gaze still fixated on the stairs.
“Best determined by how versed he is in its performance,” the old man said, leaning back. “They say that berserkers, over the years, can learn control. I see no reason why he couldn’t do the same. As it is, it seems, he hasn’t had it for the majority of his life, but I doubt its perfectly new.”
While Mieijha and Zylan quietly conversed, the door to the inn was thrown open, admitting a group of dirty, armed men. Mercenaries who had just finished a job, they were looking to celebrate their temporary wealth with ale. They loudly reminisced on a fight with a bear that intruded the camp of the merchant they guarded.
“Thrighan, ye put us to shame! That bear didn’t stand a chance against ye!” one man congratulated the largest of the party, an imposing man of dark complexion and a muscular build.
“Ha! Bears! They are nothing compared to what my people deal with on Marmo daily!” the barbarian loudly proclaimed. “I defended my clan against hordes of goblins, ogres, and monsters so terrible you would soil yourself at the sight of them. Bears are nothing compared to what I fought.”
The raucous group made their way to a table near the fireplace. “Barkeep! Bring us a round of ale!” the barbarian thundered.
Zylanthian’s face wrinkled at the talk of killing a bear. It was rarely ever necessary for an experienced forester to kill a bear. Many times, they were frightened of humans. “I amend my statement,” he said quietly to Mieijha. “Tea can cure all but ignorance.”
“He obviously killed the bear out of envy of its penis.” Mieijha spoke loudly, sucking back on her tea. “It’s that way with most men, I bet he kills ants for the same reason. Although, obviously, the fleas on him are merely to give the illusion of him being a ‘tough’ man, if not a filthy slob.” Mieijha was irked at the man’s disregard to nature, and her way of dealing with it was belittling him. There was little reason for him to start a fight unless his pride as a man was at stake, but even then, Mieijha was sure that with the help of her spirits, she could take him out if it came to that.
Zylanthian laughed aloud, placing the cup on the table. With him, both of his wolves imitated him, snapping their muzzles and making very airy howls. Zylan laughed even more hearing his two companions joining in. “You two are getting good at that!” he said, scratching each behind the ears. “Perhaps this wasn’t the wisest of ideas, but it is providing instant amusement!” Zylan said quietly to his friend.
Mieijha laughed. “What do you mean by that? I merely overheard a conversation and spoke my two cents.” She gave a placating smile. “Though I’m sure anyone who heard my unnaturally loud voice at the time would surely think I was egging him on, I was merely expressing my thought aloud.” She smirked. “And expressing one’s thoughts is never illegal nor immoral, although starting a fight in public is both.”
“Well, as long as it isn’t illegal and immoral to defend oneself, I see no cause for alarm, then!” Zylanthian declared.
Al came downstairs after drying off and placing his armor and pack in the room, changing into some fresh clothes. It felt good to wash the grime and muck off of his body. The blond knight descended into the tavern area still raking his hands through his clean hair to comb it to some effect. Since he was not looking where he was going, he had the unfortunate of bumping into Thrighan. Al gave the man a quick glare, but took a step back and bowed. “I apologize for bumping into you,” Al stated formally. He righted himself and passed by Thrighan towards Mieijha and Zylanthian.
Thrighan was indeed insulted by what the elf had said, but, despite all his bravado, he knew the sort of power elves had. He wasn’t going to mess with them, though he did shoot a glare back at Mieijha and spit into the hearth, then was sudden a man bumped into his chair.
He glared at the knight for a moment, though the man did apologize. “Yeah, watch where you’re going,” Thrighan grunted, then turned back to the table, wanting nothing to do with the others.
Al looked back to the larger man and gave a grin. He patted Mieijha on her head and took up a seat. “Well, I feel as clean as possible.” He wrinkled his nose at the tea but didn’t say anything. Tea was Zylanthian’s thing, and it wasn’t for him to judge nor comment on the awful smell.
“I’ve decided to name this accursed thing.” Al patted his sword. “I might as well give it a name. I think my mentor told me once that to truly defeat an enemy, you must first know its name. So, let’s get some suggestions going. I prefer ‘Dark Impulse’. It seems to have a certain...I don’t know, ring to it.”
“...‘Dark Impulse’?” She shuddered. Mieijha wasn’t fond of the name, but it did suit the cursed weapon. “It does certainly have an ominous sound to it.” The elf removed herself from the table. “Sorry boys, you’ll have to excuse this delicate flower. I am in need of use of the washroom to take a seriously wanted hot bath.”
“Have you ever tried dumping a delicate flower in a water basin? Its petals fall off and it becomes nothing more than a thorny stick. Similar to a cat, I suppose. My advice, don’t leave your petals in the water. What appears to be romance is actually just soggy and squishy!” Zylan grinned widely in no one’s direction as he listened to Al.
“You know... Naming things what they are is uncommon. Take this tea, for example. I’m sure the letter ‘t’ came before the drink. But they neither look, smell, nor taste anything like each other. Perhaps you should name it something more ambiguous. That way, you follow tradition and you can speak of it around people with making them huddle in corners with their children! I would call it fluffy, since it is the opposite of what it is. That and people find other people more intimidating if their view of objects are very skewed. If you feel like it should be something metaphoric, I would name it as having something to do with a storm or volcano, or some other violent force of nature. That would be a good comparison, I think. I still think ‘Fluffy’ is more effective, but the choice is really yours, I suppose. Oh... You could name it something horribly original, too. That way, if a fight comes up, those enemies have to guess the sword’s name before they could stop you or it! That is, assuming your philosophy is right.”
“Calling it Fluffy would only strengthen its anger,” Al groaned. “But you’re right, ‘Dark Impulse’ would make people fear it, although it does fit it. An anagram might work, taking the letters and switching them around to make other words.”
D-A-R-K-I-M-P-U-L-S-E...DAI KRULSEMP? No...DARSE KIMULP...No, again...DRIPLE AKMUS... Al burst out laughing at his internal dialog. USE LIMP KARD...DRAKE PIL SUM....SIMPLE DARUK... He furrowed his brows. Using the letters wasn’t a good enough thing to do...he almost needed to add more letters, or subtract them completely. “Darius...” he spoke aloud without meaning to.
“I knew a man named Darius once. I could tell you a story about him, but we could just leave it at I’m glad I only knew him once,” Zylanthian said calmly, still not looking in any particular direction. It must feel odd, he thought to himself, to talk to a blind man. They don’t even look at you! How rude!
“I once heard a tale of a strong wizard who used to hex men in order to ruin their lives,” the old man said quietly and seriously. It was no tale to him, though. “They called him the Hex Hammer or something like that, because the curses he made could crush anyone. It certainly is no hammer, but that means little in these times.” The old man rolled it around in his head. Finally, the blind man turned to face Al, his eyes still closed. “You could always call it what it is: a sword. A weapon need not be cursed to drive men to murder. It is already in its nature to do so. If one possesses a sword, he has already taken steps towards killing another and it makes the act easier to do, both physically and morally. Perhaps you already have a name for it; you just haven’t spoken it yet, possibly because you haven’t noticed it.”
* * *
Mieijha snuck off when the two men were debating about a name. A name is only one step to mastering it Al, she spoke in her mind. After the name is called, there is still the battle of wills. I’m afraid that you will forget yourself in the end, but name the spirit, try to tame it, but know this, it has already infected your soul with its malice. She snuck off to the bath and locked the door once inside. She disrobed quickly and sank into the waters. “There are harder times ahead, Mieijha,” she chided herself in common. “Do you have the strength of will to help this man out or not?”
* * *
“That may be true,” Al stated in response to Zylanthian’s last comment. “Perhaps I shall meditate on it...” He grimaced. He didn’t usually take the time to center himself after using the sword. His thoughts were far too dark and stormy for him to understand what his mind wanted to tell him.
Elainne hurried into the tavern, her feet slick with mud she was unable to stop when she came in. Sliding on her heels, the young squire slammed head first into the back of Thrighan “Oh, Falis...” she muttered. She stood and wiped her butt off from the slick she had just created. Without an apology she stormed over to Al. “Where’s Mieijha? Why are you in new clothes? Your hair is wet! Why are you looking at me like that?”
Al laughed hard. “Elainne, Elainne, calm down. I took a bath, now Mieijha is taking a bath. You’re acting up.” He patted his squire’s shoulder. “You’re such a silly, clumsy girl.”
“Try some tea, miss!” he told her. “It cures everything but, apparently, ignorance! Perhaps it will work on your clumsiness as well!” Zylan couldn’t see whether or not she was actually clumsy at all, but she did seem to come in in a huff.
Thrighan threw a glare over his shoulder at the girl, but he kept his anger in check this time too. However, he was quickly losing his cool. Turning back to his table, he grunted to his comrades, “Idiots, letting women fight. Wenches belong at the hearth.” He noticed Elainne wore armor and was armed. Despite being beaten half to death by his own teenage bride many years ago, Thrighan still didn’t think women were suited to be warriors.
Some of his companions shook their head at that. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” one of the men said. “I’ve worked with a few women, some of were better than most male warriors. Especially this elf mercenary I met once. Mia. Falis, that woman kicked ass like nothing I’ve seen before, and I swear she could drink a dwarf under the table.”
Thrighan glared at the man. “I don’t care,” he growled a reply. The man was trying to prove him wrong, and he didn’t care for it. It was an insult to his intelligence.
Elainne overheard the conversation of Thrighan and his cronies. Her frame shook with anger. Before Al could react, Elainne had snatched up the tea pot and threw it at the back of Thrighan’s head. “Women belong at the hearth, eh?” Elainne chuckled. “What would a boy know about women?” She drew her sword. “You wanna say that again, half baked barbarian man whore? I’ll show you that a woman is better at fighting than some stinky limp noodle like yourself!”
Al groaned and shook his head. This is going to escalate badly... The knight bound his sword so that he wouldn’t accidentally draw it and remained quiet. Elainne had gotten into this mess on her own, she’d have to rely on herself to get out of it.
Thrighan’s lip pulled back in a sneer when the teapot bounced off his hard skull and the girl started ranting. “Little bitch...” Thrighan growled and began to stand, but the two men nearest put their hands on his shoulders.
“Let it go, man,” the mercenary on the right said.
“She ain’t worth it. She’s just a kid,” the other merc on his left added.
Thrighan grunted and turned to the table behind him. “Keep your girl in check,” the barbarian grunted, then sat back down.
“Why would you throw an innocent tea pot?!” fretted the old sage.
“Elainne, sheathe your sword or I’ll take you over my knee and spank you.” Al growled. The squire did as she was told and took a seat. “That’s better. Now, why don’t you go and replace Zylanthian’s tea. That wasn’t a very nice thing to do, despite his comments.”
Elainne nodded and went to fetch some tea. She glared at Thrighan’s head imagining putting her sword through it, she gave a wicked little smile.
“She’s worse than this sword, I swear,” Al muttered. “If I’m not cursed with this sword, it’s my hyper vigilant squire who swears on her future grave that no woman shall touch me...”
“Idiot,” Scythed muttered to himself from his seat at the mercenary’s table. “Having fun terrorizing children, Thrighan?” he called out mockingly.
Thrighan glared at Scythed for his comments. “Feh, you people call yourselves civilized, but yet you trust women with swords,” the barbarian growled to his fellow mercenaries. “The bitches would sooner stab you in the back.”
Elainne fumed at the comment. Her small fist came down on the bar with a loud crack. Though minute in size, her little form did have some amount of power to it. “Why don’t you watch your mouth?” She spat. “I hate loudmouth men who think they know what a woman is like.”
Al stood up and cleared his throat. “Elainne, retreat for now. Thick skulls and pretty hands make terrible bedfellows.” He looked to Thrighan “But I’d warn you now, you foul mouthed barbarian, if you persist to make sexist comments I’ll be forced to forcibly remove you from the inn by the scruff of your neck.”
“See, even the knight agrees with me,” Scythed said. “Thrighan, you’re an idiot, a really annoying idiot, I suggest you shut up. You’re getting on people’s nerves.” He had put up with Thrighan throughout the job, not wanting his pay reduced from infighting. Nothing eventful had happened guarding the merchant except the bear, which Thrighan had pointlessly killed, and Scythed had gotten bored. Now that he’d been paid, the idea of fighting Thrighan seemed quite appealing.
“Somehow I am missing the purpose of a continued discussion. I would recommend everyone just stop and have a few drinks.” Zylanthian Baratoice said calmly after recovering about the teapot incident. The old man was surprised that this mercenary had enough restraint not to attack yet. Most didn’t. Not that getting a rise out of others was a good thing on its own anyway.
Thrighan sneered, both at Al’s comments and Scythed’s. However, Scythed had distracted him from the outburst he might have had. “Well, if you agree with him so much, you can join him. You don’t have to eat on my tab,” the barbarian growled, then downed the ale in his mug.
Scythed seemed to think about it for a while. Then he stood up. “Alright,” he said with a shrug and he walked toward Al’s table. As he passed Thrighan he stealthily stole a small pouch of coins from him. “Hope you don’t mind,” Scythed said to Al with a smile as he sat down next to him, not waiting for a reply.
Thrighan didn’t notice the small theft, instead he did his best to ignore the group behind him, drowning his concerns in ale and the food that was soon brought to them.
“Thank you for your assistance.” Al stated politely. “Although I disapprove of your immediate removal of his personal belongings from under his nose, I do appreciate that you stuck up for Elainne.”
Elainne brought back the tea for Zylanthian and placed it before him. “There’s your tea.” she muttered. “Well, master Al, I’m going to go get freshened up. May I have the room key?” Al tossed her the key and watched her retreat upstairs.
“Throwing tea should be a mortal sin,” the old man grumbled. The wolves laid down cautiously, keeping their heads up and watching everyone that came and went.
Food...
“As if you both couldn’t stand to lose a bit of weight,” he muttered, standing up. Zylan put a hand on the neck of Wolfgang and thought words of recommendation towards finding someone in charge. Dutifully, the wolf padded towards the bar. The blind man caught the attention of the bartender. “Do you have meat on you?”
“Aye, dinner is cooked...”
“Got anything not cut up yet?”
“Aye, a leg a mutton is hangin’ in the back.”
“I’ll take that then.”
“We can’t just cook that...”
“Not necessary. My companions are rarely used to such a preparation,” he said with a smile. The bartender looked at him funny, but only to notice what companion he spoke of. Wolfgang put his front two paws on the bar and looked at the master of the inn with a hanging tongue and a wagging tail. The tender smiled, rubbed the wolf’s head, and promptly gave a sharp price. Zylan knew it was a tad overpriced, but he didn’t intend to fight it. While he looked rather poor, Zylanthian Baratoice built up quite a bit of savings from his old seat in the Mossian nobility and from helping the people of the mountains. No one was really aware how much of a nest egg the hermit actually sat on. So, as if it was nothing, he paid the price and let Wolfgang lead him back to Al’s side. Only a moment later, one of the employees of the inn walked out with a big tray. On it sat their rack of lamb, uncooked, but slaughtered that day.
Unlike most animals of nature, these two looked to Zylanthian before they even made a move to sniff the thing. “Go for it, my friends!” With the same excitement that a child gains when getting a treat, the wolves did exactly what their name implied: they wolfed the meat down. They tore at the uncooked flesh with pleasure, they swallowed down whatever they could simply to fill their stomach. “I love listening to them go at it,” he said with a smile. “Nature at work. I would like to think everything was as simple as being hungry once...”
“You’re welcome,” Scythed replied to Al. “As for the theft of his belongings, well, I didn’t realize that he intended to pay the tab until he told me he was no longer paying it. Of course, I don’t think he should have retracted he offer, so I aided in correcting his mistake.” Scythed looked over to the wolves devouring the mutton. “They look like fun to have around,” he said, smiling.
Mieijha descended to the common area once clean. Al had seemed to gain another male companion, another human. The elven woman took to a seat near the table and smiled. “It’s better to feel clean,” she stated. Shortly afterward she diverted her attention to Scythed. “I’m Mieijha.” she said, extending her hand as a common human greeting.
“Hi,” Scythed said, turning to the elf. “The name’s Scythed.” He smiled and reached to shake Mieijha’s hand.
