EZ_Sgean
10-24-00, 08:16 AM
Sgean glowered at the barkeep, and put the tankard to his lips. Finishing off the last few drops of ale, he drunkenly lowered it the counter with a loud crash.
“Ehh, giv us an’uthr, I’m dying ah thirst, I am!” he rambled.
-“Told you, no money, no drink. You know that.” The barkeep swooped the tankard up, and started cleaning the counter with a cloth.
-“Ye fuggers, always on ‘bout yer bloody money!” He drew the back of his hand across his unkempt beard, draining it of stale ale, and wiped it off on his kilt. “Ye city folks, all ye damn well care ‘bout is yer money!”
-“That’s how we stay in business, son.”
Fish's Tavern was Sgean’s hangout in Qeynos. There were other places that’d serve him, but those finer establishments tended to throw him out when he’d had enough. To Sgean, there weren’t many things worse than getting thrown out of a tavern, when you still had a fistful of gold coins dying to be spent. Not so at Fish’s. Here, ‘enough’ was not until your money ran out. As long as you didn’t put the building on fire, your money was good there. It was Sgean’s kind of place.
He held up his dirty palm and tried to focus on the coins. The barkeep leaned over the counter “Eight coppers, Sgean. You’ll have to come back some other night”. Sgean grinned evilly. “I gots money, me. I gots heaps o’ it. Been killin’ and thievin’ all over Norrah.” He burped loudly.
-“Eight coppers! Whoop-de-doo, ye can go buy a muffin next door, can’t ye?” Trumpy the dwarf laughed at him. “What ye been killing, mighty Sgean, gnoll pups?” Trumpy’s friends burst out laughing.
-“Aye, yer right – and ‘t last one I killed said he wuz your bruther.” Sgean laughed. Trumpy’s grin dissapeared. Then, he lunged. He was amazingly fast, and Sgean amazingly drunk. They bounced against the counter, sending barstools scattering to the floor. Trumpy’s friends moved out of the way, to enjoy the fight. But it was over before it began. “Bruno!” the barkeep shouted. A door flew open. "Time for some fresh air, gentlemen?" Bruno's voice boomed, and an overwhelming force yanked Sgean off the floor and sent him sprawling through the exit. Then, darkness.
The cobblestones felt cold against his face. Sgean came to, and pulled himself together. The salty smell of the sea hit him from the harbor. Oceans, travels, adventures – it was a rich life. He gathered his thoughts, and set off for the bank. The walk cleared his mind a bit, and by the time he reached the his destination, he had sobered up enough to withdraw a handful of gold coins. Mumbeling drunkenly to himself, he stumbled back.
Bruno greeted him outside Fish’s. “Evenin' sir," he said cheerfully. You leave Trumpy be, now. You’re always welcome here, but I’m not having you troublin’ our regulars. Ye got that?” Sgean shrugged. “I said, you got that?” Sgean burped. Suddenly Bruno grabbed the barbarian by the collar and yanked him down towards his face, with a tremendous force. Sgean’s eyes widened, shocked by the monstrous strength in the man's arms. Bruno’s nose was nearly touching his. “you... got... that...?” -- slowly, between clenched teeth. “Aye, aye, I got it. I got it, Bruno!” Sgean was nearly sober now, realizing the bouncer could easily kill him, had he so wished.
Bruno let go, and Sgean stumbled back, straightening his tunic out. By Bristlebane, how’d a human get so damn strong?
He swung the door open, and stumbled back into Fish’s. The darkness of the tavern took a while to get used to, but he could walk from the door to the bar with his eyes closed. His gold coin bounced on the counter twice before the barkeep snapped it up expertly in mid air. Sgean grabbed the tankard as soon as it was placed in front of him.
“Ah, ‘tis hard work, killin’ gnoll pups an’ all, I can tell ye fer sure,” he said as he grinned at Trumpy. “Mighty hard work… Builds up a fair thirst, that does.” A second gulp, and the ale was finished. The barkeep grabbed some coins from the little heap in front of Sgean, and started pulling another ale.
A door creaked, and the smell of the sea filled the room. A robed figure entered, and approached the bar. His hair and skin was remarkably light. “Blackburrow ale. Four cases, and make it snappy!” The voice was that of a high elf.
–“Oh we aint got that, sir” The barkeep pulled at his collar and looked around nervously.
–“How DARE you play me for a fool? I know you have it, and I need some for a wedding! Now, four cases, quick!”
-“Nah, I’m serious, we aint selling Blackburrow stout. That stuff’s illegal an’ all, we don’t go breaking no laws ‘round here, no sir.” The barkeep looked increasingly uncomfortable.
Sgean burped loudly, and bumped into the high elf. “Ach, sorry,” he mumbled. “Will you watch yourself, you oaf!”
-“Told ye I wuz sorry, ye albino beanstalk!”
-“I see your mother taught you good manners – for a barbarian, that is!”
-“Aye, she did, she did!” Sgean hiccuped and tapped his index finger against the side of his nose, conspiratorial. “And yer muther…” another hiccup.
-“What about my mother…?”
-“Cen sche sow?”
-“Sorry?”
-“Can yer mutha sow?”
-“My mother is no seamstress, she’s a mighty wizard, like I! What are you trying to get at, you belligerent fool?”
-“So yer mutha can nae sow, can she?” Sgean’s face was a straight one, asking a straight question.
-“Well, mother did work as a tailor in her youth, to support her studies, so yes, she can sow…”
Sgean finished his ale, and put the tankard down. Trumpy and his cohorts moved back, quietly.
“Well, ye can tell her ta -- STICH THIS!” Sgean roared, as he brought his forehead crashing into the high elf’s face. There was a sickening sound of crushing bone and cartilage. The bar erupted with gleeful laughter, as the elf collapsed against the bar, clasping his nose. Tears and blood poured down his face “Maah nose! Aaaah, you roke mah nose!”
The laughter settled down as the elf got to his feet, slowly. A steady stream of blood, spit and tears soiling the front of his fancy robe. But the expression of shock and pain was gone from his face; a determined, hateful glare replaced it. “Oh uh,” Trumpy said, elbowing his friends, and nodding gleefully towards Sgean.
“The wrath of Felwithe!” the elf cried out, blood spouting from his lips. The magic poured from his fingertips, and Sgean’s body shook as he slammed into the wall from the impact. Trumpy laughed, “C’mon, Sgean he’s but a wee gnoll pup! Ye can take him!”
Daggers appeared in the barbarian’s hands, and he fell upon the elf with all his might. A few stabs landed in place, but the wizard was quick. Once more, the magic streamed out towards Sgean, and his feet were rooted to the floor. The elf spat blood, and blinked desperately, trying to clear his eyes. Then, the magic slammed into Sgean once more.
The barbarian looked around nervously. A few more blasts, and he would be done for. The elf -- his senior by many seasons -- looked to be in fine shape, except for the reshaped nose. Once again, he had picked his battle poorly! He pulled his bow out, and let go an arrow. It interrupted the elf’s casting, but the next one went off, and tore through Sgean’s body. “Hahah, there ye go, cmon, finish the lout off, now!” Trumpy cheered.
Then, his feet came free, and he lounged at the elf, who threw himself at the ground, towards the bar. Sgean landed on the exit door, and crashed outside. Bruno glowered at him “Now what? I told you, if ye touch Trumpy…” but Sgean was on his feet, and gone in the night. An enraged scream came from the bar, and the high elf stumbled outside, with a grinning Trumpy in tow. “Where he go?!” he shouted at Bruno.
–“Sir?”
-“’abarian! He ahacked me!” he pointed angrily at his broken nose, as if anyone could fail to notice the facial protrusion, which now pointed left, instead of the normal straight ahead.
-“Oh, no sir. Didn’t see no barbarians round here, nope.” Bruno looked at the elf’s face, examining Sgean’s handiwork, and nodded with approval.
-“Liar! You must hafh seen him, sebben fheet thall, in a khilt! LIAR!” blood spluttered from his lips.
Bruno’s hand landed casually on the elf’s shoulder, and clamped down on it. The elf gasped in pain.
-“Sir, I’m tellin’ ya. If I saw someone, I’d tell ya. Ok?”
-“Argh! Ok ok ok, let go of me!”
Bruno let go, and the wizard whimpered and collapsed, grasping at his shoulder.
“So, yer a wizard, are ye?” Trumpy said, conversationally. “I can tell ye how to get some Blackburrow stout. But I’m a bit thirsty, so ye’ll hafta buy me a wee dram or two, first. I like honey mead, myself…”
Shanks Initiate, and Thug of Vallon Zek
“Ehh, giv us an’uthr, I’m dying ah thirst, I am!” he rambled.
-“Told you, no money, no drink. You know that.” The barkeep swooped the tankard up, and started cleaning the counter with a cloth.
-“Ye fuggers, always on ‘bout yer bloody money!” He drew the back of his hand across his unkempt beard, draining it of stale ale, and wiped it off on his kilt. “Ye city folks, all ye damn well care ‘bout is yer money!”
-“That’s how we stay in business, son.”
Fish's Tavern was Sgean’s hangout in Qeynos. There were other places that’d serve him, but those finer establishments tended to throw him out when he’d had enough. To Sgean, there weren’t many things worse than getting thrown out of a tavern, when you still had a fistful of gold coins dying to be spent. Not so at Fish’s. Here, ‘enough’ was not until your money ran out. As long as you didn’t put the building on fire, your money was good there. It was Sgean’s kind of place.
He held up his dirty palm and tried to focus on the coins. The barkeep leaned over the counter “Eight coppers, Sgean. You’ll have to come back some other night”. Sgean grinned evilly. “I gots money, me. I gots heaps o’ it. Been killin’ and thievin’ all over Norrah.” He burped loudly.
-“Eight coppers! Whoop-de-doo, ye can go buy a muffin next door, can’t ye?” Trumpy the dwarf laughed at him. “What ye been killing, mighty Sgean, gnoll pups?” Trumpy’s friends burst out laughing.
-“Aye, yer right – and ‘t last one I killed said he wuz your bruther.” Sgean laughed. Trumpy’s grin dissapeared. Then, he lunged. He was amazingly fast, and Sgean amazingly drunk. They bounced against the counter, sending barstools scattering to the floor. Trumpy’s friends moved out of the way, to enjoy the fight. But it was over before it began. “Bruno!” the barkeep shouted. A door flew open. "Time for some fresh air, gentlemen?" Bruno's voice boomed, and an overwhelming force yanked Sgean off the floor and sent him sprawling through the exit. Then, darkness.
The cobblestones felt cold against his face. Sgean came to, and pulled himself together. The salty smell of the sea hit him from the harbor. Oceans, travels, adventures – it was a rich life. He gathered his thoughts, and set off for the bank. The walk cleared his mind a bit, and by the time he reached the his destination, he had sobered up enough to withdraw a handful of gold coins. Mumbeling drunkenly to himself, he stumbled back.
Bruno greeted him outside Fish’s. “Evenin' sir," he said cheerfully. You leave Trumpy be, now. You’re always welcome here, but I’m not having you troublin’ our regulars. Ye got that?” Sgean shrugged. “I said, you got that?” Sgean burped. Suddenly Bruno grabbed the barbarian by the collar and yanked him down towards his face, with a tremendous force. Sgean’s eyes widened, shocked by the monstrous strength in the man's arms. Bruno’s nose was nearly touching his. “you... got... that...?” -- slowly, between clenched teeth. “Aye, aye, I got it. I got it, Bruno!” Sgean was nearly sober now, realizing the bouncer could easily kill him, had he so wished.
Bruno let go, and Sgean stumbled back, straightening his tunic out. By Bristlebane, how’d a human get so damn strong?
He swung the door open, and stumbled back into Fish’s. The darkness of the tavern took a while to get used to, but he could walk from the door to the bar with his eyes closed. His gold coin bounced on the counter twice before the barkeep snapped it up expertly in mid air. Sgean grabbed the tankard as soon as it was placed in front of him.
“Ah, ‘tis hard work, killin’ gnoll pups an’ all, I can tell ye fer sure,” he said as he grinned at Trumpy. “Mighty hard work… Builds up a fair thirst, that does.” A second gulp, and the ale was finished. The barkeep grabbed some coins from the little heap in front of Sgean, and started pulling another ale.
A door creaked, and the smell of the sea filled the room. A robed figure entered, and approached the bar. His hair and skin was remarkably light. “Blackburrow ale. Four cases, and make it snappy!” The voice was that of a high elf.
–“Oh we aint got that, sir” The barkeep pulled at his collar and looked around nervously.
–“How DARE you play me for a fool? I know you have it, and I need some for a wedding! Now, four cases, quick!”
-“Nah, I’m serious, we aint selling Blackburrow stout. That stuff’s illegal an’ all, we don’t go breaking no laws ‘round here, no sir.” The barkeep looked increasingly uncomfortable.
Sgean burped loudly, and bumped into the high elf. “Ach, sorry,” he mumbled. “Will you watch yourself, you oaf!”
-“Told ye I wuz sorry, ye albino beanstalk!”
-“I see your mother taught you good manners – for a barbarian, that is!”
-“Aye, she did, she did!” Sgean hiccuped and tapped his index finger against the side of his nose, conspiratorial. “And yer muther…” another hiccup.
-“What about my mother…?”
-“Cen sche sow?”
-“Sorry?”
-“Can yer mutha sow?”
-“My mother is no seamstress, she’s a mighty wizard, like I! What are you trying to get at, you belligerent fool?”
-“So yer mutha can nae sow, can she?” Sgean’s face was a straight one, asking a straight question.
-“Well, mother did work as a tailor in her youth, to support her studies, so yes, she can sow…”
Sgean finished his ale, and put the tankard down. Trumpy and his cohorts moved back, quietly.
“Well, ye can tell her ta -- STICH THIS!” Sgean roared, as he brought his forehead crashing into the high elf’s face. There was a sickening sound of crushing bone and cartilage. The bar erupted with gleeful laughter, as the elf collapsed against the bar, clasping his nose. Tears and blood poured down his face “Maah nose! Aaaah, you roke mah nose!”
The laughter settled down as the elf got to his feet, slowly. A steady stream of blood, spit and tears soiling the front of his fancy robe. But the expression of shock and pain was gone from his face; a determined, hateful glare replaced it. “Oh uh,” Trumpy said, elbowing his friends, and nodding gleefully towards Sgean.
“The wrath of Felwithe!” the elf cried out, blood spouting from his lips. The magic poured from his fingertips, and Sgean’s body shook as he slammed into the wall from the impact. Trumpy laughed, “C’mon, Sgean he’s but a wee gnoll pup! Ye can take him!”
Daggers appeared in the barbarian’s hands, and he fell upon the elf with all his might. A few stabs landed in place, but the wizard was quick. Once more, the magic streamed out towards Sgean, and his feet were rooted to the floor. The elf spat blood, and blinked desperately, trying to clear his eyes. Then, the magic slammed into Sgean once more.
The barbarian looked around nervously. A few more blasts, and he would be done for. The elf -- his senior by many seasons -- looked to be in fine shape, except for the reshaped nose. Once again, he had picked his battle poorly! He pulled his bow out, and let go an arrow. It interrupted the elf’s casting, but the next one went off, and tore through Sgean’s body. “Hahah, there ye go, cmon, finish the lout off, now!” Trumpy cheered.
Then, his feet came free, and he lounged at the elf, who threw himself at the ground, towards the bar. Sgean landed on the exit door, and crashed outside. Bruno glowered at him “Now what? I told you, if ye touch Trumpy…” but Sgean was on his feet, and gone in the night. An enraged scream came from the bar, and the high elf stumbled outside, with a grinning Trumpy in tow. “Where he go?!” he shouted at Bruno.
–“Sir?”
-“’abarian! He ahacked me!” he pointed angrily at his broken nose, as if anyone could fail to notice the facial protrusion, which now pointed left, instead of the normal straight ahead.
-“Oh, no sir. Didn’t see no barbarians round here, nope.” Bruno looked at the elf’s face, examining Sgean’s handiwork, and nodded with approval.
-“Liar! You must hafh seen him, sebben fheet thall, in a khilt! LIAR!” blood spluttered from his lips.
Bruno’s hand landed casually on the elf’s shoulder, and clamped down on it. The elf gasped in pain.
-“Sir, I’m tellin’ ya. If I saw someone, I’d tell ya. Ok?”
-“Argh! Ok ok ok, let go of me!”
Bruno let go, and the wizard whimpered and collapsed, grasping at his shoulder.
“So, yer a wizard, are ye?” Trumpy said, conversationally. “I can tell ye how to get some Blackburrow stout. But I’m a bit thirsty, so ye’ll hafta buy me a wee dram or two, first. I like honey mead, myself…”
Shanks Initiate, and Thug of Vallon Zek