Reclaiming Solheim (Open, Needs People ASAP)
Sept 27, 2014 18:33:04 GMT -6
Post by Shard on Sept 27, 2014 18:33:04 GMT -6
Etrurian taverns, Shard reflected to himself, were much like the Etrurians themselves: Fastidiously tidy on the outside, and often, full of shady things on the inside. The tavern that Shard was frequenting right now had a neat little exterior, all polished wood and brass, and the sign hanging outside read, "The Lord and Lion Tavern: Warm Rooms, Affordable Rates". The interior was slightly less well up-kept, and Shard, who was beginning to see more and more of places like this in his travels, could compare it almost instantly to any other roadside tavern he'd been to. Still, it was a large tavern with a sizable great hall, clean, warm, and had decent honey-wheat ale. The bar was busy, but not what one could call crowded. The evening had just begun, and folks were beginning to close up their shops and finish at their jobs, filtering inside at steady intervals. The common laborers and rougher, blue-collar crowd had games of chance and skill to keep their eye, and in the far corners, Shard could see some of the more middle-class merchants flipping coins into the hat of a singing maiden. He suspected that it was not only her voice, but her graceful dancing that were earning her gold pieces from the men, who muttered nothings about "being a patron of the arts". Uh-huh. Shard rolled his eyes as he surveyed where the most obviously wealthy patrons made their nest, on the upper floors. There were several alcoves where gaily clad men had tables to themselves, able to survey the merriment and debauchery of the commoners without having to participate themselves. There were only a few "VIP" alcoves open tonight, and Shard could see a bored looking nobleman and his entourage drinking heavily, served by muscle-bound kitchen lads. A private party, apparently.
The bar where Shard sat was shared by any folk who cared to drink next to others, and had coin for doing so. He wore a red tunic, and his typical short riding cloak was fastened about one shoulder, facing the door. He'd noticed everyone doing so, and figured it was some kind of custom. He'd had to turn over his sword to a bouncer at the front when he'd arrived earlier, receiving assurance that it would be held in the best care until he departed. Still, his side felt naked without it after having been on the road for this long. He wasn't wearing his cavalry armor tonight (who would wear armor to drink?) but he still wore his hardened leather bracers and greaves, as a friendly patron had advised him that fights tended to break out as the evening wore on. All part of the culture, Shard assumed; Etrurian society was so devoted to the idea of nobility and protocol, it had to be difficult not to punch someone now and then. There were several other folks at the bar who were obviously fighters of one sort or another, though they were the minority here tonight. A short, bearded man, older but with a twinkle in his eye, quaffed wine like it was going out of style, and guffawed loudly as he regaled anyone in earshot of his youth as a vessel of an Etrurian noblewoman. That man certainly has a thirst for life, Shard thought wryly. A woman with pink hair and a stoic expression drank silently across the bar, the pauldron on her shoulder marking her as a sailor from the west. Probably a pirate... Still, whenever a look from someone came his way, there was a silent exchange, and without fail, a small nod. Shard felt the meaning even as he nodded back, then went back to his drink. He'd been judged, and the locals were taking him seriously. Not falling down at his feet like they were in the presence of a god of war, but respectful nonetheless. Shard felt warm inside at the feeling that he'd come one step closer to being the greatest mercenary knight in Ilian history. Or perhaps it was just the ale?
Suddenly, the door to the establishment was flung open, and a haggard-looking man ran inside. Shard raised an eyebrow, as the man seemed to be wearing a priest's clothing. The clergy tended not to want to have anything to do with places like this. Some laughed as the man frantically tried to get people's attention, attempting to make his cries heard above the raucous noise of music, laughter, and arguing. "Help! Please, the cathedral has been taken! Please, someone, anyone!" Shard could barely hear what the man was saying, and it didn't look like anyone else could either. The ones who did minded their own business, keeping their noses in their own drinks. In truth, Shard was just about to dismiss the man and return to his relaxation when he heard the man's trailing words, faintly through the noise: "Sweet Elimine, send your angels..." Something about the utter despair and loss in the man's voice made Shard stop with the glass halfway to his lips. You can just put your head down, and the rest of your evening will be peaceful, and uneventful. Haven't you done enough stupid things lately? He almost succumbed, but sighed and turned his head towards the man as his conscience caught up with him. Diamonds are never created without pressure, eh?
Raising his voice above the crowd, Shard whistled and waved the frantic man over to the bar when he caught his eye. "Hey! Err, Father! Over here." The man hurried over towards Shard, his short, dark blue hair bouncing as he tried to catch his breath. At this short a distance, he could see that the man looked awful; his holy robes were singed and torn in places, and he was covered in dirt. The man looked Shard over as he spoke frantically. "You... are you a guardsman? No, you... you're probably a knight of some sort, yes? In the name of St. Elimine, please Sir, you have to help me! Please!" The man's begging was frenetic, and he looked as though he were about to go mad. Shard held up his hands defensively. "Easy, easy. My name is Shard, and I am a knight errant of Ilia. Are you in need of a mercenary, Father?" The question was blunt, meant to pierce the man's hysteria. It seemed to work, as the man's mind clearly began to process what the Ilian was saying to him. "I... Oh, sweet Saint above, I... I just, please, you have to help me! The accursed undead, they have overrun the Cathedral! The Solheim Cathedral, a holy place where my order... my brothers and sisters..." The man almost lost his composure, but regained a grip. "Our home was attacked by the foul creatures, abominations and monsters! I... We lost many the first night, and they have besieged those who remain, keeping them confined to the Great Tower." Shard kept eye contact with the man, coaxing the story out of him as he gasped his story out. "I haven't very much gold to pay you, Sir Shard, but I have need of you. You, and any who will aid me and the others in our time of need. They cannot last forever, for even if the dark spawn cannot breach the Tower, my order will starve eventually. The Cathedral must be cleansed of these foul beasts... Please, in the name of humanity... help us." The man's balance shifted wildly, and he grasped for the bar stool beside Shard. "Are you injured?" "No... just weary. It has taken me a day on foot to reach this place, as to my knowledge, I alone have escaped to seek aid. My name is Alexander, and I fear that I may be the last of my order if nothing is done. I am skilled with a bit of Light magic, but I am no warrior, and I'm afraid I won't be ab;e to stem the tide alone." Shard thought for a moment. This was clearly a dangerous job, for little to no pay. Still... Even if he were paying in pyrite, I'd have to be a monster myself not to take this job. "I'll ride to them, Father Alexander. I don't know how much of a chance a lone horseman stands against a horde of monsters, but I'll have to try." The priest was silent as he continued to catch his wind, but the look in his eye was grateful.
Shard stood, throwing a few coins on the bar for his tab, then spoke to the priest. "I'll need to grab my weapons and armor. In the meantime, see if there's anyone else who will ride with me." The clergyman nodded, and arose, wandering back out into the crowd to ask folks for help in their quest. Shard strode back to his room he'd rented to collect his things... Hopefully when he rode tonight, he wouldn't ride alone.
(OOC: Join by accepting Father Alexander's quest. =3 )
The bar where Shard sat was shared by any folk who cared to drink next to others, and had coin for doing so. He wore a red tunic, and his typical short riding cloak was fastened about one shoulder, facing the door. He'd noticed everyone doing so, and figured it was some kind of custom. He'd had to turn over his sword to a bouncer at the front when he'd arrived earlier, receiving assurance that it would be held in the best care until he departed. Still, his side felt naked without it after having been on the road for this long. He wasn't wearing his cavalry armor tonight (who would wear armor to drink?) but he still wore his hardened leather bracers and greaves, as a friendly patron had advised him that fights tended to break out as the evening wore on. All part of the culture, Shard assumed; Etrurian society was so devoted to the idea of nobility and protocol, it had to be difficult not to punch someone now and then. There were several other folks at the bar who were obviously fighters of one sort or another, though they were the minority here tonight. A short, bearded man, older but with a twinkle in his eye, quaffed wine like it was going out of style, and guffawed loudly as he regaled anyone in earshot of his youth as a vessel of an Etrurian noblewoman. That man certainly has a thirst for life, Shard thought wryly. A woman with pink hair and a stoic expression drank silently across the bar, the pauldron on her shoulder marking her as a sailor from the west. Probably a pirate... Still, whenever a look from someone came his way, there was a silent exchange, and without fail, a small nod. Shard felt the meaning even as he nodded back, then went back to his drink. He'd been judged, and the locals were taking him seriously. Not falling down at his feet like they were in the presence of a god of war, but respectful nonetheless. Shard felt warm inside at the feeling that he'd come one step closer to being the greatest mercenary knight in Ilian history. Or perhaps it was just the ale?
Suddenly, the door to the establishment was flung open, and a haggard-looking man ran inside. Shard raised an eyebrow, as the man seemed to be wearing a priest's clothing. The clergy tended not to want to have anything to do with places like this. Some laughed as the man frantically tried to get people's attention, attempting to make his cries heard above the raucous noise of music, laughter, and arguing. "Help! Please, the cathedral has been taken! Please, someone, anyone!" Shard could barely hear what the man was saying, and it didn't look like anyone else could either. The ones who did minded their own business, keeping their noses in their own drinks. In truth, Shard was just about to dismiss the man and return to his relaxation when he heard the man's trailing words, faintly through the noise: "Sweet Elimine, send your angels..." Something about the utter despair and loss in the man's voice made Shard stop with the glass halfway to his lips. You can just put your head down, and the rest of your evening will be peaceful, and uneventful. Haven't you done enough stupid things lately? He almost succumbed, but sighed and turned his head towards the man as his conscience caught up with him. Diamonds are never created without pressure, eh?
Raising his voice above the crowd, Shard whistled and waved the frantic man over to the bar when he caught his eye. "Hey! Err, Father! Over here." The man hurried over towards Shard, his short, dark blue hair bouncing as he tried to catch his breath. At this short a distance, he could see that the man looked awful; his holy robes were singed and torn in places, and he was covered in dirt. The man looked Shard over as he spoke frantically. "You... are you a guardsman? No, you... you're probably a knight of some sort, yes? In the name of St. Elimine, please Sir, you have to help me! Please!" The man's begging was frenetic, and he looked as though he were about to go mad. Shard held up his hands defensively. "Easy, easy. My name is Shard, and I am a knight errant of Ilia. Are you in need of a mercenary, Father?" The question was blunt, meant to pierce the man's hysteria. It seemed to work, as the man's mind clearly began to process what the Ilian was saying to him. "I... Oh, sweet Saint above, I... I just, please, you have to help me! The accursed undead, they have overrun the Cathedral! The Solheim Cathedral, a holy place where my order... my brothers and sisters..." The man almost lost his composure, but regained a grip. "Our home was attacked by the foul creatures, abominations and monsters! I... We lost many the first night, and they have besieged those who remain, keeping them confined to the Great Tower." Shard kept eye contact with the man, coaxing the story out of him as he gasped his story out. "I haven't very much gold to pay you, Sir Shard, but I have need of you. You, and any who will aid me and the others in our time of need. They cannot last forever, for even if the dark spawn cannot breach the Tower, my order will starve eventually. The Cathedral must be cleansed of these foul beasts... Please, in the name of humanity... help us." The man's balance shifted wildly, and he grasped for the bar stool beside Shard. "Are you injured?" "No... just weary. It has taken me a day on foot to reach this place, as to my knowledge, I alone have escaped to seek aid. My name is Alexander, and I fear that I may be the last of my order if nothing is done. I am skilled with a bit of Light magic, but I am no warrior, and I'm afraid I won't be ab;e to stem the tide alone." Shard thought for a moment. This was clearly a dangerous job, for little to no pay. Still... Even if he were paying in pyrite, I'd have to be a monster myself not to take this job. "I'll ride to them, Father Alexander. I don't know how much of a chance a lone horseman stands against a horde of monsters, but I'll have to try." The priest was silent as he continued to catch his wind, but the look in his eye was grateful.
Shard stood, throwing a few coins on the bar for his tab, then spoke to the priest. "I'll need to grab my weapons and armor. In the meantime, see if there's anyone else who will ride with me." The clergyman nodded, and arose, wandering back out into the crowd to ask folks for help in their quest. Shard strode back to his room he'd rented to collect his things... Hopefully when he rode tonight, he wouldn't ride alone.
(OOC: Join by accepting Father Alexander's quest. =3 )
