Rowdy Arphen [Ended]

[Roin Valor]

The capital of Ilia was betraying of the nation's rather separated, small towns and villages. They thrived off small-time hunting and, obviously, one or two mercenaries. The entire capital could thrive alone off just their mercenaries. Most of the buildings on the street weren't frivolous stores, but smithies and taverns for the wandering traveler, merchant seeking protection, or even someone looking to grab up more mercenaries. Of course there was a store, but it was large enough for most of the town to get what they needed and then be on their merry way. No one had time to deal with a marketplace in this cold, snowy land.

The Sacaen's fur-lined robes were a strange sight, but he had finally been left alone. He was resting near a wall in the back of one of the more populated taverns. Tables all around were ablaze as deals were struck, but that didn't concern him. Arms crossed, he was simply there to watch. Keeping guard at a place like this generally earned a free night's keep. Not to mention it let him hear and talk among locals and roaming men and women alike so he didn't have to pay some foolish man or women for possibly bunk rumors. This way, he could even potentially meet others who sought to learn more of the mighty land of Elibe. It certainly couldn't hurt after all the issues that happened alone in the more recent past.

A waitress moved toward him, offering him a glass of water with a smile. "You sure you don't want a chair or anything, sweetheart? I'm sure I could-" She stopped as Roin smiled at her, taking a moment before sighing. "I suppose all Sacaen men are so hard to read?"

"Hard enough, when we don't want to be read. Thank you for the offer, but I prefer to stand than to sit if I must be ready to draw my blade."

The waitress gave a rather small, dismissive nod, giving him a cutesy wave of her fingers before making her way out and back to the main space of the tavern. Roin thought she had a good heart, but he certainly had no time to talk and flirt. He'd have no room to go back to if something did happen on his watch.

[Marric]

Marric walked down the street with a group of older women dressed in the garb of Ilian pegasus knights. They all clamored around him asking questions and fiddling with his shirt, adjusting and readjusting his clothing as mothers would.

"Marric you haven't even written!"

"You silly boy, you're shirt needs to be washed!"

"You must tell us of your travels! You've been gone for so long!"

"Your mother was worried sick about you, you know!"

He knew this was all in good humor, they were taking him to a tavern after all. The group of chattering women was trailed by a smaller group of the some of the women's protege's, the four of them were a bit younger than Marric. They were knights in training it seemed, and followed their elders to see what the fuss was about; a scrawny fighter. what gives, they no doubt wondered, but continued to follow their elders.

Come on! I'm no child anymore, i'm sure once the ale is flowing i'll share plenty of stories for you ladies!

The group giggled, they had helped raise a fine young man indeed. They reached the place they had so animatedly described to the fighter, a large tavern in the midst of the capitol night life. A green clad man stood guard as the group entered, and Marric had eyed him since the moment he caught a glimpse of the Sacaen. He'd only been to Sacae once, in the first year of his travels away from home. He'd gone through Bulgar on the way to Lycia, but didn't learn much about the place besides the clothing. These thoughts lasted a mere moment before his 'mothers' pulled his thoughts back on regaling stories and exploits.

"You must tell us!"

"Yes! yes, you must! These lasses ought to learn from your experiences!" the eldest of the women suggested, and the young knights in training sighed; the last thing they wanted to hear was how great Marric had done after beginning at such a young age. They were about the same in those terms, and they hadn't even flown their first missions yet.

Well alright... I suppose i could start with my expedition into nabata! He theatrically demonstrated with hand gestures and voice tones, I was hired by this village to exterminate some pests... and by pests i mean GIANT coyotes roaming the edge of the desert, four no less! the women gasped in amazement, one quipped about how a scrawny little runt like Marric could take down four gaint coyotes.

You see, as luck would have it, I wasn't alone in the desert that day. A young lad happened to come across one such beast and cried for help. I ran up a giant dune upon hearing his cries and discovered that the owner of the voice was face to face with the beast, and he obviously wouldn't last long alone.

Reactions to this were nearly the same as the last; over-acted, and comical. Ales arrived to their table, platters full of mugs to be exact. They sat near the door, so the waitresses seemed fairly annoyed they had to carry so many so far. After a few sips of ale one of the trainee's inquired on the rest of the story;

What happened to the boy? what of the rest of the story? She was the tallest of the group, the eldest as well. Her pink hair was shoulder length and she sounded like a studious one.

Well, I charged down the dune to save the poor little guy! he laughed, and the girls followed suit, "He was a smart one, green hair non-withstanding, Hilde!" He made a jab at one of the ditsier members of the group who promptly gave him the middle finger. He continued the story to the joy of his company, and when he was done they forced him to tell another, and knowing he had taken the boy under his wing they asked what became of him after he told the second tale; a short bit about bandit slaying.

Samuali and i parted ways. Saw him on the job awhile back, can't say i know what he's up to now. Fortunately when i saw him he was doing good work for good people. He thought back to that small fort in Etruria where he killed one of the bandit mages who'd played a part in the death of his old band and his father.

The stories continued, and the drinks as well, but Marric kept glancing to the sacaen guard. He wondered what a plainsman was doing so far north.

[Roin Valor]

Roin had been minding much of his own business, glad the bar was quiet. That is, until the man and his posse arrived. As the group passed, he wasn't surprised to be ignored. He was half-Ilian, but he was also half-Sacaen, which most other nations had a prejudice toward already. When his eyes met with the younger man, he honestly didn't see much he cared for. Showing off was being far too prideful for any true Sacaen. Especially if you were telling a tale with such loyal friends. He did, however, keep watching the group as they drank, laughed, and listened in. Tales weren't uncommon out here, but the fact he thought it the greatest tale was certainly out of place. Not to mention the knights making fools of themselves.

"Quite pathetic. My mother was a better Knight than any of you older women."

Roin had spoken out, frowning as he realized how it might come across. While he was glad to speak his mind, he knew that not everyone would take such criticism. So, knowing that, he added on. "In fact, I'm surprised any of you are training apprentices. Your time would be better spent aiding allies of Ilia than catching up on old times." Standing up straight, and coming across quite a bit fearsome thanks to his culture's robes and his height, he made his way over to look to Marric, narrowing his eyes at the individual.

"As for you, perhaps you'd best leave, earn some gold for our fine capital, and perhaps earn the time to relax. If you haven't realized, Ilia is a frozen wasteland."

His right hand moved to rest on the top of his sword's hilt, keeping his palm resting on it and his fingers relaxed. It wasn't a threat, but a clear sign to any warrior. The Sacaen wasn't looking for a fight, but he could certainly hold his ground. The waitress was shocked, and clearly from the tavern quieting down, they were all looking to see what would happen. It was the tavern owner who broke the brief silence, a frown on his face. "I won't have no fightin' in here. If you two want to throw blows, take it outside."

[Marric]

A few of the women eyed the man with cold gazes, one muttered about sacaens truly being savages, and two rolled up their sleeves and were about to assault the guard before Marric spoke up.

No, no, everyone. He's just speaking his mind, no one can blame him for that. Marric drank a bit of his ale. What a hypocrite this man was. He spoke of the mercenary's duty to their capitol to be out fufilling contracts, but he hardly knew any of their stories. And look at him, a Sacaen in Ilia, what was he doing for his country, his tribe? He also spoke of his mother being a knight, but he forgot that lineage only mattered in the place of kings and nobles. No one cared, in ilia at least, who your parents were, or in fact where you came from. All that mattered was what YOU did, what YOU accomplished. And openly sending a verbal attack to a group of ilian mercenaries was hardly smart, quite stupid in fact.

Come on, I know you're not from here. Share an ale with us, perhaps two. I'd like to explain to you who I am. Marric beckoned to an open seat, open only because the knight who had occupied it had been one of the few ready to fight the Sacaen. Whether the man chose to sit or not, Marric would defend his own honor to this man.

I have been working for my country in all manner of lands for six years. I left home at the age of fourteen, I know it sounds young, but like you my mother was one of the best Knights in Ilia. I had something to prove, even if it didn't matter who my mother was. Marric looked around at the hurt looks a few of the knights gave him.

Excuse me, who my /mothers/ were. You see, these women helped raise me, they taught me to use a weapon, trained me to be strong and how to work as a mercenary. They are my family, the family who you insulted. Now, you speak of earning my keep to rest, and personally, i believe i earned one night's rest in a tavern, as have all these women, believe me they've gone through much more than I have. He paused again briefly.

Even if i hadn't earned enough to justify a day of rest at home, I am spending money in the capitol for these ales, I am giving back in this way, and in many more. You don't know our story friend, what is your place to judge my family? I don't see you fighting for your tribe, nor do i see you earning money for them. You are guarding a tavern in Ilia, how can you speak of us as if we do not deserve the comfort of ale for a single night?

Get to know me, and tell me i haven't done enough for this one night. Get to know us all, I emplore you. And perhaps, share about yourself, I have always wanted to know more about Sacae, ever since the beginning of my six year tour. I was in bulgar you see, on the way to Lycia. In my haste i was unable to learn more of Sacae, and i haven't had much reason to return since.


Marric nodded reassuringly to the man, and the owner of the tavern. He had fought nearly every day for six years, and much of his memory was filled with such things. He'd rather not have a confrontation on his first night back home.

[Roin Valor]

Roin seemed completely unmoved by the speech, but after a long, brief moment, he let his hand move away from the hilt. He didn't care for the looks of hate, distrust, or disapproval the women showed toward him. What Roin had cared for, however, was this individual having enough steel to not back down.

"I need not drink to know someone to be worthy of my own respect. Allow me to apologize, but I dislike-" He stopped briefly, looking out to the still curious crowd before sighing and returning his gaze to the man once more. "I have fought a long time as well. While I do not seek long contracts as an Ilian, I understand the burden. It's why I am here, keeping watch for loudmouths. Forgive me, I only assumed I might have a situation with you as you got more...drunk." The crowd finally began to grumble, turning back to their own business as the tavern returned to the lively state slowly but surely. The owner simply turned and made his way back to the bar, the waitress resuming her runs. Roin, however, remained in his position.

"If you wish to learn of Sacae, perhaps I'd best spend my time here...but at the same time, I understand that your friends would not see a..."savage" pollute their space."

He said the words without venom or hate, clearly used to the looks he received. Turning, he made his way over to the bar, silently motioning to the owner before heading back into the rear section of the tavern, where the private tables generally were. It was clear that, while he wasn't offended or challenged by the speech, that Roin had felt he'd wronged the entire tavern's atmosphere with the confrontation, despite the swift recovery to its previous state. He could be seen sitting down at a table toward the back, the waitress moving over to whisper to him as the lone Sacaen sipped from the glass of water he still held.

With the glass in hand, he used the other to remove his sword and place it on the table, leaning back and giving a soft sigh, watching the waitress leave before minding his own business. He was lucky the owner hadn't thrown him out of his room after that display...

[Marric]

Everything had calmed down, and the tavern returned to its normal lively state. Marric however, wasn't satisfied. He drank for a bit with his family of bubbly pegasus knights, and shared a few more stories. After a half hour, he stood from his table, and let the women continue their outrageous conversation about how to properly braid their pegasis' manes.

He walked to the sacaen, his bern axe slung on his back. He sat down and waved to the waitress to bring over a drink. He sat in silence for a moment after placing his own weapon on the table gently.

So, your mother was a great knight, eh? He looked to the Sacaen, his speech was plain spoken, and even keel. He was drunk, but he was noticeably chilled, and docile.

[Roin Valor]

Roin had two empty glasses on his table by the time Marric had finally joined him. His eyes looked to the warrior for a moment before he finally turned his gaze to the glass in his hand. Unlike the previous three, it was a single glass of mead, most likely, and had been just brought to him. The question hadn't taken him off guard, but he had not expected a visit from this other Ilian after earlier.

"A good knight. She was not prideful, but a humble lancer. She turned my birthmark into this Wyvern tattoo." He halfheartedly gestured to the mark around his left eye before taking a small drink from the glass. When he lowered it, he turned his gaze to the man.

"She died, long ago. I was only a boy when rogue Wyvern Knights of Bern attacked and killed her. I was forced to watch her fall from the sky like some common bird at the end of a skilled hunter's arrow." Putting the glass down, the Sacaen seemed to flinch, a very odd look of sadness breaking the well-controlled face he often held.

"Those men died to my bow. Their wyverns as well. It's why I made my way back to Ilia...I originally paid respects to my mother's grave in my hometown...but my father raised me to never stay in one place too long. Perhaps you know the feeling, as you've been going around for six years."

He turned his gaze to watch the waitress walk back to the bar. The short half-hour had been enough to drive a bit of the patrons out of the tavern, which left her free. Roin's eyes wandered slightly as she walked, but he finally looked away with a small smile, the first one he'd held all day, to Marric. "My name is Roin, after my mother. Forgive me for never properly introducing myself earlier." It may have been that he had almost no tolerance or he cared for the waitress, but it was clear that Roin's mood had already improved slightly since earlier when he confronted Marric's entire party.

[Marric]

Name's Marric, don't sweat it. Marric offered, he would have smiled had he not just told the story of his mother's death. It reminded him of his father, except that he had not fully taken revenge himself. Nothing could fill that void after all, why pursue it activly when you could be making your country money. He had killed one of the mages, and taken the hand of the client who had betrayed his father's band.

My mother's a Seraph Knight. My father was a Wyvern Knight himself. Marric looked the man's tatoo over, it was quite impressive. He had a similar token to remember his father by. See this scar? He pointed to his neck. My father gave it to me. Marric smiled at the memory.

We were on the opposite side of a battlefield. Marric took a sip of his ale, and glanced back at his mothers having a ball.

[Tamaya]

"Excuse me," a voice said in a Sacaean lilt. Turning, the tavern keep saw a Sacaean girl standing, a large and ornate bow on her back, and a brimming quiver at her hip.

"What do you want, sa-er, girl?"

"I would like some wine, please." Tamaya prudently and calmly ignored the barb; she didn't want to start a brawl. Especially with no friendly faces in sight. In fact... Most of them were glares. A familiar experience.

Gratefully receiving her wine, Tamaya found an empty table and sat, alone, sipping the wine slowly. She failed to notice the thin fighter or the other Sacaean...

[Roin Valor]

Roin was quiet at the mention of Marric's father. While his father was still around, Roin hadn't been to Sacae in at least a year or so to even have the chance to see him. Along with that, he hadn't seen his father in two, almost three years.

"You at least knew him well. I was only raised by my father to appease the few friends my mother had and to ensure his honor wasn't ruined."

His eyes began to look for the waitress, but they froze when he found the woman at the bar. Another Sacaen. Roin's face gained a frown as he tried to think. Then, it hit him. She had been a member of the Cathecassa. Her name and status escaped him, but his father had done well to ensure he could tell the tribes, clans, and groups of Sacae apart. Each was as unique as any city of other nations, after all.

"I wonder who that woman is..."

He watched for a moment longer before looking to Marric, raising a brow once more. "You said you were coming back from a long series of jobs...what happens now, then? Do you plan to retire from the work of a mercenary? Surely there is little to settle down into out here but the life of a hunter or a mercenary..."


[Quick OOC: Too much orange, rotating to Roin's alternate color]

[Marric]

I knew him well until last year when he fell. Marric replied with an air of nostalgia. He followed the Sacaen's gaze with a grin. Pretty wasn't she? Blonde hair too, didn't all sacaen's have green hair? Well, from what he saw it was either that or black. Any matter, she was quite attractive, but he wouldn't try to make any moves whilst his plethora of mothers were present. It would be far too embarrassing.

She's quite a looker, ain't she? He laughed and drank from his mug.

He had been asked a similar question before. The green haired lad had inquired on nearly the same subject when they were travelling in Lycia. What was his future? Marric honestly didn't have an answer for such questions. Sure, he wanted to settle down as much as any man, have a family; surely to the delight of his mothers. But he wondered what kind of life he could provide any sort of family. He was a mercenary, someone who'd be gone for months at least, hardly a man to raise children or take care of the home. He sighed as he thought delibrately on how to answer such a question.

I am only taking a short respite. As soon as the sun is up tomorrow, i'll be setting out again. Might buy me some armour, i have a few coins left after handing most of my earnings off to one of Ilia's generals. He couldn't say more than that.

Of course, if i some how die tonight I wouldn't be able to! He laughed vigorously at his own dark humor. When you've worked so long as a merc, you joke like someone who's about to meet their end Marric reasoned.

[Tamaya]

Tamaya looked up from her wine to see two men at a corner table staring at her. Instinctively, she looked away, uncomfortable and a little shy. One of them was a Sacaean, though... At least that gave them common ground. But why was he staring at her, instead of rescuing her from being alone in such a strange place? Tamaya was a little bit disappointed, but she kept sipping the wine, watching the men out of the corner of her eye while appearing to not pay any attention to them.

"She's quite a looker, ain't she?"

At this loud and boisterous comment, Tamaya's eyes narrowed slightly in anger. How lewd. She was angry at his lack of class and tact... Objectifying women. He didn't even know her.

"Hmph." she said to herself. She focused again on her wine, feeling even more alone and slightly frightened. What if he tried to follow her or something?

[Roin Valor]

Roin made a face at the last comment of falling. He joked about it, but that wasn't what made him a bit off. It was that he did so while in a time for celebration. He had survived a long journey back home and, before he even left, was hoping he fell?

"To die in battle isn't worthy if the battle isn't a just one."

He knew he'd sound like a bit of a prude, but his father had preached it long ago while training him. His death in battle would have been justified fighting the three who hunted his mother long ago, but to get killed in some tavern brawl was certainly no just way to die. It was after an even longer moment, however, that he sighed.

"But I suppose that might not make sense to most of Ilia...few of the mercenaries that made us famous care for more than coin...perhaps that's why I feel more at home with my damned father rather than in my mother's old village..."

He seemed ready to drink from his glass again, but went still as he heard a crash from the bar, looking toward the Sacaen woman and the new group that had entered. A small squad of eight mercenaries had entered, their shoulders and chests holding matching patches to mark them as a group. One of the men had a smirk on his face as he peered at the Sacaen woman, his voice carrying through the now quiet tavern.

"What's a little Sacaen thing like you doing here? Why not go stink up another-"

Roin stood up, interrupting the man with a beat to the table he and Marric were sitting at. He knew what he'd be doing the moment he rose, though, the hand that had hit the table grabbing his sheathed blade.

"This Sacaen man will show you a bad time if you don't stride out of here. You drunken lot aren't welcome."

For once, the tavern agreed, the barkeep looking to the duo a long time before sighing and motioning toward the door. "Take it outside, then!" The frown the barkeep had was clear. Roin was picking a fight with eight men and certainly wouldn't fare well without some sort of aid. Mercenaries weren't the standard run-of-the-mill soldier, after all.

The man who had briefly spoke to the woman made a face, standing up straight to cast her one more lewd look before looking to Roin. "Alright then, Sacaen dog...step outside." Snickers from his men didn't make Roin flinch as they walked out. The bar was still silent, all eyes on Roin as he finally grumbled and, quickly lifting his glass, he drank it and put it down with a brief look to Marric, wincing out the sting of the alcohol with a final hiccup.

"Wanna join in? Perhaps get some honor in exchange for the coin you lost?"

It was no insult, but he made his way toward the exit, and because of that, Tamaya. He had a fight to handle.

[Marric]

The battle is never just, its the cause. I'm willing to die to achieve my goals, if I die, I die. He smiled, The way I see it, dying ain't much to be ashamed of-- He was interrupted by the drunk mercenaries hollering and generally disturbing the whole place with their bravado. They all wore the same kind of emblem on their clothing, likely all members of the same band. These guys might not even be Ilian, he didn't recognize the crest from where he sat. Marric watched the ruffians with a blank face as they called the lass at the bar out for being Sacaen. He kept the same look as her fellow Sacaen stood to her defense, and when the barkeeper yelled for them to take the conflict outside Marric frowned. Sometimes, he didn't agree with his own countrymens' behavior, this was one of these times.

These men were confidently getting away with insulting a person for where they happened to have been born, no doubt happy to have the chance of beating a Sacaen up for laughs. Roin might seem tough enough to handle himself in a fight, but against eight mercenaries at once, even drunk ones, he stood no chance of coming back in victorious. What irked him even more was that the Barkeeper, Roin's employer, had given the whole idea his blessing. He knew this was customary, personal disputes were handled personally in Ilia, no one univolved in the conflict would dare interfere in a private matter. Even still, the lack of action in the place ticked him off, and more so that his mothers sat idly by and let it happen. They were of an older generation, though, customs were law to them, and in this instance Roin would be given no suppport from any of the others. He couldn't be angry with them, Roin was sacaen, a stranger, and had insulted their pride. They might sit by, but he wasn't inclined to, nor would he allowed to return to this city with his pride if he didn't lend his hand. He shared a table with Roin after all, it was bad enough he sat with a Sacaen, but not standing by your table partners in aa brawl was veiwed as the lowest act one could get away with without being forcibly detained to a jail cell. Before Roin even asked, Marric had already stood up, and taken his place at his side.

"Wanna join in? Perhaps get some honor in exchange for the coin you lost?"

Most, no doubt, thought he did this to save what little honor he had left. He did, after all, leave his companions to drink with someone who'd insulted him and his kin, and with a Sacaen no less. The patrons who were in this majority mind-set shook their heads out of sympathy and disapproval, but the lad had made his choice. None of them had any right to stop him from standing against his own countrymen to aid an outsider. Even some of the pegasus knights among Marric's companions looked outraged he'd stood, and a few even shot a dirty gaze at him.

Marric felt these tensions and disapprovals thick in the air enough to slice through them. He didn't care, whatever the majority opinion of him was he had his own set of codes to live by, and allowing such a rude gesture by drunken, cocky scoundrels to go unchecked was not one of them. He smiled, to the horror of the elder patrons, and to the shock of his companions.

It's my pleasure to. Part of him was furious with the other man for suggesting this would earn him any honor, but he shoved his bias aside. He didn't know the customs here, in the minds of most, their was no honor to be gained by fighting fellow Ilians in defense of an outsider. The irony of the joke he'd made earlier made him chuckle, those men waiting outside were veterans, no doubt. To be allowed to bare the emblem of a company meant they'd proven themselves worthy enough to be seen as members of the organization by anyone in the world. He followed Roin without another word, and casually cracked his knuckles. He could have saved some dignity by acting as if he were forced into this, but he didn't want to stoop to such a level.

"Marric, i hope you learn a lesson from this." One of his mothers said sadly. As he walked, he felt the stares lift away, and the chatter amongst the patrons grew once again as if nothing had happened. He frowned in response to the woman, one who'd taken care of him quite often while his mother was off fighting.

Maybe it's you who needs to learn from it. He replied coldly, he'd expected some support from them, but they gave him little. He walked out the door and into the night air, face to face with sneering and growling mercenaries just itching to bash both their heads in.

[Tamaya]

"What...?"

Now Tamaya was really confused... Normally, she'd just look away and endure the taunts and jeers. But this time... Both men had stood up for her. And now, they were probably going to get beaten senseless. She couldn't let that happen. Standing up resolutely, she drew stares and glares as she slammed her chair to the side and stiff-armed the door open. With her hair flying out in the rush of air coming into the tavern, the light from the bar backlit her, leaving her silhouette -- and that of the large bow on her back -- clearly visible.

Tamaya uttered a guttural noise, and sprang forward in a sort of hop-skip, landing sidesaddle on Shikoba, who had come running up. Whipping her bow into a ready position, she drew an arrow and fixed it at the forehead of the man who had spoken to her.

"I will allow you to leave peacefully if you desire. Free yourself of my stench.

Otherwise... I hope you die with it lingering in your nostrils."