The Tavern - by The Stickman
It was in the late evening of the weeks-end when the quartet stepped into the tavern. It was not an overly busy night, but there were plenty of patrons who curiously watched as they moved across the floor. Although the four appear unassuming as they stand in the entry, their eyes scan the surroundings, taking in all. They meet a serving maid as they walk in and ask for a table in the back. The girl hesitates before making eye contact with the best dressed of the four. Flamboyant in looks and appearance, he introduces himself as Jyhazen Silversong, a Bard of some renown, and swings low, removing his red wide brimmed hat with a flourish. His graceful quick movements belay the fighting expertise that he must have with the rapier that he adjusts with his bow. It is now apparent that he is of Elven lineage, though his features seem less angular. The gravelly grunt of disgust is heard from the short stocky fiery-bearded dwarf, who stands by impatiently.
"Balls Jy, but yer keepin' me from me drink and down time."
She looks at the surly dwarf, noticing the slash of scar that runs down his forehead. His simple cloak does not hide the spikes of his armor, nor the haft of his axe. Slightly embarrassed, she smiles hesitantly and introduces herself as Selanor before quickly turning and taking them to the back.
The tallest of the crew also appears elvish, except for the long dark hair he wears in a ponytail down his back. Selanor notices the beautifully made oakleaf emblem that he wears around his neck, a sharp contrast to the simple brown and tan leathers that he wears. The tapping of his oaken staff echoes slightly as he walks, causing more than a few heads to look in his direction. The last of the group, a dark haired, bearded human seems nervous as he crosses the floor, as if he is waiting for an attack at any moment.
"Calaris, stop that," he whispers, forcibly gripping the druid's green cloak.
"Be at ease friend Raglin. Just because there are people around doesn't mean that there will be trouble."
"That's what ya said last time, and we ended up gallivantin' through sewers," he reminds him.
Calaris shrugs and smiles, but he does not tap his staff as continues across the tavern. The party sits down at the table, the dwarf bellowing out their order, a wicked grin on his face.
"Samuel, you have been looking forward to this more than Jy," Calaris says, eyes filled with mirth.
"Yeah, but fer differnt reasons… da choirboy dere is lookin' ta sing an dance and other tings like dat. Me, on da udder hand needs ta quench a thirst an r'lax." He says, leaning back onto the bench and folding his arms across his chest.
Almost on cue, Jyhazen stands up and throws his cloak back, striking a pose with his hands on his hips.
"True, my short stout friend, now does seem the best time for a little singing and storytelling."
He gracefully sweeps past his friends, catching Selanor as she returns with their drinks and spinning her around in a quick dance before moving past her towards the center of the tavern. He sings loudly now, catching the attention of many patrons. He introduces himself as he sings, telling of adventures and merriment, of honor and valiant heroes. A few patrons begin clapping now, truly enjoying this, while others look on with mixtures of amusement and curiosity. Calaris begins clapping as the song continues and even Samuel taps his toes slightly. The only one in the group who seems less than enthused is Raglin, who continues to watch the crowd, angling his back to the wall.
Nearly an hour passes as Jy continues his songs and stories, and by now everyone is in tune with him and drinking. Even Raglin seems to be relaxing, speaking in hushed terms with both of his companions. Selanor comes back to give Samuel his sixth tankard of ale, noting the wink he gives her in appreciation. She moves away smiling after the generous tip from Calaris, moving easily amongst the other patrons.
Surprisingly, it is Samuel who notices the entrance of the mercenaries. With a slight nod to Raglin, he motions to the door. Raglin nonchalantly gets up, staggering as if drunk and heads outside apparently looking for latrines. The hardened warriors look menacingly around the tavern, slowly moving to the bar. The barkeep asks them what they are drinking, and they order. A fair-haired, chain mailed warrior, who looks to be the leader, again looks about the common area. He scrutinizes the crowd before his eyes stop at the table where Calaris and Samuel sit. He whispers to one of his six companions, never taking his eyes off Samuel. With a nod, the second merc finishes his drink and heads outside. He motions to his companions and a pair walk with him to the table.
"Their headin' dis way Cal," Samuel says quietly as he drinks from his mug.
The mercenaries come up behind Calaris, with the leader standing to his right.
"Do yer need sumpthin'?" Samuel asks, glaring.
"Are you the dwarf who came through Baldaron a fortnight ago?" He asks, placing his gauntleted fists on the table.
"Maybe… who wants ta know?"
"I am Arkilla, leader of the Dark Charge. I have come here seeking vengeance for the death of my lieutenant."
"There is no need for violence here brother," Calaris says, trying to diffuse the tension.
Arkilla snatches Calaris by the collar, lifting him up from his chair.
"Look half-breed, right now this is between the dwarf and me, but wag your tongue at me again and I will string you up from the nearest tree."
"Becoming one with nature will eventually come to pass, but I am not looking to rush that day," Calaris says, holding his hands up passively.
"Look human, I ain't lookin fer no trouble," Samuel states flatly, slowly rising from his chair. "Yer friend wuz cheatin at cards an I caught 'em. He d'cided it was easier ta get rid o' me den ta move on… He was wrong."
One of the pair of warriors beside Arkilla steps away from the table, placing his left hand on the pommel of his broadsword. The singing and clapping from the room abruptly stops, and those nearest the argument hastily move away.
"Friends… friends," Jy calls out, smiling happily as he approaches. "There is no need for this. Perchance do you seek a rowdy night of drinking and song? For if so, I would gladly offer to purchase the first round."
Arkilla releases Calaris, appraising the Bard as he approaches. Both of his companions turn toward Jy, menace in their eyes. Calaris steps away from Arkilla, seemingly intimidated.
"What is this… another half-breed? And a he looks like a courtly jester at that," he says, causing his companions to laugh.
"No my friend warrior, not a jester, but a bard. You do know what a bard is don't you?" He says, again waving his arms flamboyantly as he bows.
"Jyhazen Silversong, singer and storyteller, writer of stories of adventure and valor, of love and honor… Why surely you-"
"Shut up! Why must everyone prattle on so!" He hisses. "Stand away unless you wish to share in the Dwarfs fate." He draws his longsword, angling himself to keep everyone in sight.
Arkilla's nose explodes from the impact of Calaris staff, spraying his companions.
"Balls!" Samuel yells, pushing the table over, knocking the dazed Arkilla back and forcing the other warriors away.
The two warriors beside Arkilla draw their weapons, one facing Jy, the other reaching for Arkilla. The remaining warriors at the bar also draw their broadswords, circling around Jy. Samuel growls and pulls his battle-axe free, mumbling something about stupid human mercenaries.
Calaris pole vaults over the startled mercenaries, blocking a swipe of a broadsword and landing a vicious kick to the head of the one facing Jy. Samuel screams a dwarven battle cry and splinters the table with one swing of his axe.
Suddenly, the barkeep jumps over the bar, snatching the two nearest warriors and cracking their heads together, rendering them unconscious.
"Enough! I have had enough!" he yells, dropping the two unconscious warriors. "You will leave this establishment now, or I will have the magistrate here and see you all flogged or hanged."
The silence of the tavern is eirie, with only the heavy breathing of an irate dwarf being heard. Then, as Arkilla is helped to his feet, he begins laughing. It is not the sound of joy, but of sick delight that now echoes throughout the tavern.
"Fools. I sent Rictor out as soon as we arrived… In moments more than two score of my men will be here. And then there will be a reckoning."
He again laughs, and his men too, smile. They look around with a vicious gleam, savoring the looks of most of the patrons. Then another voice begins laughing with Arkilla, and all heads turn to the doorway. Raglin stands there, leaning against the wall and picking his fingernails with his dagger. He swipes at a tear that has run down his cheek.
"Sorry nosebleed, but I think that ol' Rictor might not be passing any messages real soon… Come to think of it, he may have had a change of heart and decided the life of a merc wasn't for him. I mean… I wouldn't be surprised if you all never talked to him again, but who knows…"
The Barkeep reaches behind the bar, pulling out a longsword that glows brightly.
"Drop your weapons Arkilla, and take your men away… this is your last chance," he says flatly.
Arkilla glares vehemently at everyone in the room. He then nods to his remaining men, who drop their weapons and pick up their comrades. They walk out of the tavern, with Arkilla spitting on the floor before he glares one last time at Samuel and turns for the door, making eye contact with Raglin. Raglin gives a slight salute with his dagger as the mercenary leader leaves.
Mumbles and conversations break out as the quartet stand at the doorway looking out into the warm night.
"Are we going to go looking around in the sewers again?" Raglin asks.
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