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Tavern of Legend: Season 2

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Haan entered the tavern with delight m,he had just returned from his goblin massacre and now he wa ready to get his moneys worth.

Haan looked in the exact same spot that he had left vaddock in and sure enough there he was,haan walked up to vaddock and started talking"im done with the goblin extermination"haan said

"You got my reward"haan asked vaddock.

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Aylin settled herself down for a moment, sitting in a wooden chair that was in a corner of the room. She began to eavesdrop on the conversations that filled up the room. Her eyes wandered at the array of characters nearby. They all seemed to be an interesting set of sorts.

She did notice that while she was entering the tavern, two women and an old man had passed her by to leave. What really piqued her interest was the word "crows" that she heard leaving the senile man's mouth. She could deal with crows. After all, she had Ren. That mission didn't sound too bad, the others didn't seem as catch her interest.

Deciding on what to do, Aylin moved from her little spot in the room, and began heading towards the door. Upon opening it, the cool air bit at her face and she grinned.

Standing outside she patted herself down to make sure that all of her weapons were with her, and were located in the proper place. Aylin had learned that pickpockets where everywhere, and she learned this the hard way.

Her two swords where in their sheaths, laced across her back in an "X" position. They were twin weapons, the hilts having a similar, intricate golden pattern. She also made sure that the five hidden blades were in their correct places on her body. It wouldn't be safe if they weren't. She shivered at the thought before venturing off after the trio, walking slowly to keep out of their view.

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Haan entered the tavern with delight m,he had just returned from his goblin massacre and now he wa ready to get his moneys worth.

Haan looked in the exact same spot that he had left vaddock in and sure enough there he was,haan walked up to vaddock and started talking"im done with the goblin extermination"haan said

"You got my reward"haan asked vaddock.

 

"Word travels fast. I already had someone come down here and say they saw a good slew of them slayed and no longer anything to fuss about. I'm glad someone got on it, because this town really needed the help, and unfortunately we're just not in a good position to offer more of it."

Vaddock reaches under the bar and pulls out a pouch.

"Here you are, the promised bounty for getting rid of those mongrels.

He lightly tosses the pouch over to Haan.

 

[VB has been dispensed] 

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[spoiler]Catherine's eyelids quiver a moment as she comes to. She opens her mouth wide and cat yawns into her left palm as she slowly tilts herself up, propping her elbow against the surface she was laying on top of. She didn't even realize the bandages that had once covered her hand were now entirely gone. She takes her left palm from her mouth and moves it across her face to her left eye, her right hand mirroring the motion on the other side as she rubs her eyelids clear of the little bit of oil that collected on her face while she was laying down.

 

"Where am I?" She asks, not knowing if she would be greeted by a guard on the other side of a set of iron bars or perhaps a strange man with a whip demanding she pay a debt she never owed.

 

Catherine sneered slightly for no reason in particular as she slid her hands off of her eyes and around to the back of her neck. Another yawn crept up on her, her sharp teeth exposed to the air as her hands slowly swept up all of her silky black hair. She begins twisting it around on itself until she makes a rather messy looking loose bun of hair on the back of her head. She sits up from whatever soft object she seemed to be resting on until she was upright enough to look around from atop the cot like bedding. She notices a few shelf like racks with barrels and bottles around the room.

 

It was certainly {Some kind of storage room}. The smell of moist wood, dust and alcohol in the air made it clear to Catherine that this was in a bar of some kind. Not certainly any old bar but one with plenty of alcohol if nothing else. She spotted a few other things around but mostly empty sacks of food. After a moment she decidedly looks down at her legs, relieved to see they were in fact still attached to her body and not damaged in any way. She separates her knees and looks down at the surface she was resting on, glad to see she had not slept on the floor but her appreciation soon fades. It was some kind of make shift cot made from a few thick fabrics. She turns her head and looks behind her, still inspecting the bed but she raises her eyebrow when she notices something peculiar about this bed. She swayed her fluffy cat tail aside and scanned top layer with her sharp eyes for a moment before recognizing it as her own sued cloak.

 

This was a bit more confusing than waking up in some random jail she had been thrown in for no reason at all.

 

Now fully awake and wearing this look of near complete shock on her face she looks over herself once more as her fluffy cat tail returns to guarding her back, her hands patting her person for any kind of missing or additional items. She stops once she notices a small folded parchment in her right leg pocket. Immediately she unfurls the parchment to investigate it. After a quick glance, She quickly begins closing it up having skimmed a few lines before carelessly folding it back together. As she was folded the paper her head returned to  scanning the room, darting from corner to creak as she began to refocus all of her senses to her environment. Every sound and slight thump was suddenly noticeable and she could tell she was somewhere near the tavern.

 

That idea made her slightly uneasy. {Why was I brought down here?}  She ponders as she slowly slides off the edge of the makeshift cot. Immediately her stomach growls ravenously in agony, begging her for food of some kind. Catherine flinches, clutching her stomach with both hands and immediately feeling her energy seep away as her hunger takes over. She had no idea how long she had been asleep but she certainly knew she needed to eat before she ended up taking a much longer cat nap in the ground.

 

Catherine turns towards the cot and pulls her cloak off of it, tossing it over her shoulders as she checks the room one final time for any more items. No boots or socks unfortunately but thankfully there was a set of leather strips in the fabric pile that moments earlier served as her make shift cloak cot. She takes a few of these cheap leather strips and begins wrapping them around her feet and hands. Her stomach continues to growl and soon the smells of Ghallen Berwater's delicious food pummels her nose into submission, demanding her stomach's full attention as it dragged her closer, simultaneously clouding her mind in a velvety blanket of teasing aromas.

 

With the strong scent comes a few of Catherine's memories of the Tavern just before she fell asleep at the bar. She recalls taking a long look at Vaddock before suddenly blacking out. She also recalled there being something about Vaddock that seemed to really appeal to her at the time, whatever it was. She knew the moment she saw him at the bar that there was something about him that interested her... just before passing out dead on the counter like some ... some kind of zombie. Certainly zombies had nothing to do with it. It seemed fishy to her but she didn't really question it further than having a strong curiosity of the origin of his name.. and more importantly how she came to know it.[/spoiler]

 

After a bit of thoughtful meditation, Catherine begins her way out of the room she was so safely left in during the Blight of the Zombie Horde or whatever it's called, and begins her way towards the Tavern main seating area but before she has a chance to get very far she encounters a young woman named Young Attractive Barmaid...

 

Immediately Catherine tugs her cowl over her head but the Young Attractive Barmaid simply smiles at her as she does so, commenting about her hair before attempting to guide Catherine toward the main area. Young Attractive Barmaid leads Catherine Black in through the kitchen, stopping a moment to greet the Chef in the flesh. While Catherine was eyeballing the remainder of a cut up haddock left out on the table Young Attractive Barmaid prompts Chef Berwater with a simple question, asking of Levhea Morytol. Ms. Morytol she called her. While they discussed the matter of the Madam, Catherine shamelessly takes a nearby hunk of moldy bread in plain sight, staring at the barmaid as she stared back then slowly Catherine begins to stuff the entire hunk into her mouth, crumbs piling down her face and into the depths of her cloak. She looks over towards Berwater at this point and begins to tune in, oblivious of the topic.

 

[spoiler]Sept 7, 2015 Edited a line for clarity: Young Attractive Barmaid leads Catherine Black into the kitchen, stopping a moment to greet the Chef in the flesh. ---> Young Attractive Barmaid leads Catherine Black in through the kitchen, stopping a moment to greet the Chef in the flesh.[/spoiler]

Edited by HiddenKitty123

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haan had recieved his reward from vaddok and was now sitted at the bar wondering what his next move was,he still dint have enough money to get him back on the road,since the goblin mission hadn't paid him much,so he needed to find another job to do,one that paid better than the goblins.

while haan was thinking about his next job,he looked down at his clothes and realised they still had goblin blood splattered over them,so he decide to go and clean them,but just as haan was getting up to go and clean his clothes,the two men he had apparantly been sitting next to suddenly decided to be louder about there conversation."yeah,rumors are spreading that there is some undead arm deep with the mountain"man#1 said."i heard that some unlucky shop owner got lost somewhere in there and got his brain eaten by the undead"man#2 said."you mean the shop owner,thats guy is still alive apparantly"man#1 said,"really?no way he has to be dead by now theres no way his coming out of that place alive"man#2 said."yeah the lucky bastard is still alive,his wife is asking for help from anyone brave enough to go down to the mountain and get her husband out.she says she willing to pay anyone successful in bringing back her hasband alive".

"hey you there"haan called out to the men that had been having the conversation,both men looked his way,then the first man spoke"can we help you.","yes you can,do you mind pointing me to the woman who is looking to have her husband rescued from the undead"haan said to the men,"oh<so you want to try you luck in going down that hole do you,well the woman your'e looking for is right over there."the man said pointing to where vaddok was standing but this time he was talking to a woman.

haan quickly approched the woman and spoke"excuse me ma'am ive heard that there is something you need help with,perhaps i could provide assistance." Edited by Thetomb123

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Damien walked into the Tavern taking a seat at the bar. The place not being new to him. He looked around. He knew no one around him.

 

(And now I don't know what to do ._.) (._. please help me ._.)

 

(Please excuse me. This is my first RP post on this site. I hope I didnt mess up)

 

(Plus I am New-ish to Role Playing)

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[quote name="DamienThane" post="497929" timestamp="1441611505"]Damien walked into the Tavern taking a seat at the bar. The place not being new to him. He looked around. He knew no one around him.


Through the air past a soft sound. It was sharp, and squeaky as it pierced whoever's ears were close enough to pick up the soft, delicate sound. As the wooden door to the tavern was opened at a moderate pace, not being too slow, not too fast, a tall, broad shouldered male appeared.

Light brown hair and may have had a mixture to blonde, if closer to the light, lightly fell out of a slicked back style, and collapsed onto his forehead messily. His skin was very pale, and it could be deduced that he is native to a very cold climate, in which, melanin is very tough to receive, for the sun was usually covered by multiple fluffy clouds that, even, covered up the greyness of the snowy sky.

Despite how the weather may have been outside, the clothing of this male was very thick. No armor was worn, but a mere black v-neck type of upper wear. It was rather thin, compared to his other layers, meant for if he traveled into some hot or humid climate, but that was certainly unheard of in his birthtown. On top of that was a sweater, a grey one with black uneven, unsymmetrical spots, which looked and was very thick. It was made of a material that would have similar consistency to cotton, in another world, but here the creature which produced such a thread was called, Caxzla. A very common animal in his hometown. Some used this mammal as a pet, others would use it for food. It varied by people, though this male, personally, had one of these as a pet for a long while until it died, as all living and, possibly, unliving organisms do.

The most visible clothing was that of a trench coat. It fell past his knees, and was the color of a very clear white, seeming as snow that has been untouched by the carelessness of man. Pockets lined up, counting on five on each side of the breast, along with eight inside total, and two that lay on the hips. The waistband was left untied, just swishing with each step he made.

Gently, he carefully sauntered onto the dirty, oak flooring, looking to be a long habit of staying quiet as he moved with his fluid grace. Taking a glance around the tavern was a great variety of people, and creatures alike. His eyes settled upon a male, who, even with a long gaze, looked just completely lost. Forming a smile upon his lips, eager to befriend him, the male made his way, with his slow nature, to the bar of the tavern.

He slid onto the seat, and his eyes glanced at the male, and with his aided smile, he spoke a greeting, " 'Allo, young man. Nice to meet ye. Nam's Alarik. Ye name is?" His dialect, along with his accent was of a foreign aspect. If it was close to anything, it'd be most similar to an Irish origin, that upheld Japanese in it's tone. It may have sounded strange, but this was just how he spoke in his land. He wished that it wasn't too weird sounding, though.
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[quote name="DamienThane" post="497929" timestamp="1441611505"]Damien walked into the Tavern taking a seat at the bar. The place not being new to him. He looked around. He knew no one around him.


Through the air past a soft sound. It was sharp, and squeaky as it pierced whoever's ears were close enough to pick up the soft, delicate sound. As the wooden door to the tavern was opened at a moderate pace, not being too slow, not too fast, a tall, broad shouldered male appeared.

Light brown hair and may have had a mixture to blonde, if closer to the light, lightly fell out of a slicked back style, and collapsed onto his forehead messily. His skin was very pale, and it could be deduced that he is native to a very cold climate, in which, melanin is very tough to receive, for the sun was usually covered by multiple fluffy clouds that, even, covered up the greyness of the snowy sky.

Despite how the weather may have been outside, the clothing of this male was very thick. No armor was worn, but a mere black v-neck type of upper wear. It was rather thin, compared to his other layers, meant for if he traveled into some hot or humid climate, but that was certainly unheard of in his birthtown. On top of that was a sweater, a grey one with black uneven, unsymmetrical spots, which looked and was very thick. It was made of a material that would have similar consistency to cotton, in another world, but here the creature which produced such a thread was called, Caxzla. A very common animal in his hometown. Some used this mammal as a pet, others would use it for food. It varied by people, though this male, personally, had one of these as a pet for a long while until it died, as all living and, possibly, unliving organisms do.

The most visible clothing was that of a trench coat. It fell past his knees, and was the color of a very clear white, seeming as snow that has been untouched by the carelessness of man. Pockets lined up, counting on five on each side of the breast, along with eight inside total, and two that lay on the hips. The waistband was left untied, just swishing with each step he made.

Gently, he carefully sauntered onto the dirty, oak flooring, looking to be a long habit of staying quiet as he moved with his fluid grace. Taking a glance around the tavern was a great variety of people, and creatures alike. His eyes settled upon a male, who, even with a long gaze, looked just completely lost. Forming a smile upon his lips, eager to befriend him, the male made his way, with his slow nature, to the bar of the tavern.

He slid onto the seat, and his eyes glanced at the male, and with his aided smile, he spoke a greeting, " 'Allo, young man. Nice to meet ye. Nam's Alarik. Ye name is?" His dialect, along with his accent was of a foreign aspect. If it was close to anything, it'd be most similar to an Irish origin, that upheld Japanese in it's tone. It may have sounded strange, but this was just how he spoke in his land. He wished that it wasn't too weird sounding, though.

 

Damien looked to the side of him to see the smiling man. He prefereed not to talk to people around him but in a case like this where he had no idea where he was . . . It was not like he had a choice. He turned around fully to reveal dark blue eyes and Hair that was blue and red with a semi-messy style. It was obvious that he didn't style it normally. In front of him was some kind of ale or drink that regulars mostly get.

 

"It's DHT" He liked the sound of that name. It wasn't his real name. It was his initials. But he preferred it. Plus his name was only a few of the remaining things he had left to him. You could see at his right side was a tomahawk and at his left was a dagger with 2 flintlocks (But flintlocks colored for a red and black trim around them). On his back was a sword. It looked like a common sword. All his weapons looked common. 

 

He took a drink of what ever was in the bottle. He didn't like the taste. You could tell by his facial expression.

 

He then turned his attention back to the man. A man he had never seen before. He wasn't used to people talking to him. Where he was from, when some one came to talk to you. It wasn't to be polite. It was to break your damn arms.

 

He gave out a long deep sigh and then said "SO WHAT BRINGS YE TO THIS HERE TAVERN YOU MIGHTY FINE GENT!" He said it with an obvious fake smile mockingly. He came off as an asshole to those who were not close to him.

 

He preferred it that way.

 

He would be surprised if this guy actually talked back to him. Most people ignore him because he looks younger. He has been said to look 16 though he is 19. 

He looked at the man and waited for what was next to happen

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"hey you there"haan called out to the men that had been having the conversation,both men looked his way,then the first man spoke"can we help you.","yes you can,do you mind pointing me to the woman who is looking to have her husband rescued from the undead"haan said to the men,"oh<so you want to try you luck in going down that hole do you,well the woman your'e looking for is right over there."the man said pointing to where vaddok was standing but this time he was talking to a woman.

haan quickly approched the woman and spoke"excuse me ma'am ive heard that there is something you need help with,perhaps i could provide assistance."

 

"Yes, I am worried sick about him. At first I thought it was a blessing for him to have gone spelunking right before those... monsters showed up, but now he's been gone too long, and I fear that the worst may have happened. The caves are safe so long as you stay closer to the surface, but if he fell into the deep, there are dangerous creatures. Please, help him get back home."

The woman is middle-aged, her hair a mixture of grey and auburn. She is handsome though not quite pretty, and her blue eyes shimmer with tears. 

 

She pulls out a small map and hands it to you.

"This will show you where he went in. Unfortunately, he had the only map of the underground, so you'll be on your own. I can loan you a lantern though, should you need it. And if I were you, I would go in armed. You never know what might be lurking down there."

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Damien looked to the side of him to see the smiling man. He prefereed not to talk to people around him but in a case like this where he had no idea where he was . . . It was not like he had a choice. He turned around fully to reveal dark blue eyes and Hair that was blue and red with a semi-messy style. It was obvious that he didn't style it normally. In front of him was some kind of ale or drink that regulars mostly get.
 
"It's DHT" He liked the sound of that name. It wasn't his real name. It was his initials. But he preferred it. Plus his name was only a few of the remaining things he had left to him. You could see at his right side was a tomahawk and at his left was a dagger with 2 flintlocks (But flintlocks colored for a red and black trim around them). On his back was a sword. It looked like a common sword. All his weapons looked common. 
 
He took a drink of what ever was in the bottle. He didn't like the taste. You could tell by his facial expression.
 
He then turned his attention back to the man. A man he had never seen before. He wasn't used to people talking to him. Where he was from, when some one came to talk to you. It wasn't to be polite. It was to break your damn arms.
 
He gave out a long deep sigh and then said "SO WHAT BRINGS YE TO THIS HERE TAVERN YOU MIGHTY FINE GENT!" He said it with an obvious fake smile mockingly. He came off as an asshole to those who were not close to him.
 
He preferred it that way.
 
He would be surprised if this guy actually talked back to him. Most people ignore him because he looks younger. He has been said to look 16 though he is 19. 

He looked at the man and waited for what was next to happen


The male raised a brow, unsure of what had just occurred. Had he made an enemy? If so, then that's definitely a dreadful thing for only just meeting him. His mind, then, pondered if this was some custom. He has done some traveling here and there, but he has not yet met any type of society that acted naturally like this.

For attempting to be nice, the mocking expression did very much tick him off, but he tried to ignore it. Continuing to sport his smile as it remained on his face, he spoke, "Um, right. DH, it is." He considered the added T was too much for a mere name. "I am here fo' some tye o' work." Work was very easy to find in the Cold South region, for in his village there were not too many people eager to travel and move there just to pay the bills, since of the cold. Though, he wanted to meet new types of people, and learn about other customs and cultures. Such things interested him very much so.

As he sat, he fidgeted in his seat a tad, as what ever could be causing the discomfort was almost completely hidden by his ashen trenchcoat. It was a sword on a rotating axis on his characoal belt. The weapon was a long, grey blade that had lost its shine for it was mainly dull now. The handle, in contrast, appeared very clean and new-ish. It was a bronze color that was very short. It was meant to only be a one handed sword, which was the reasoning for the handle having no room for two hands of it.

After he finished speaking, he gestured to the other and said, "And ye?" In a warm voice, as best as he could, despite how offended he was initially from the male's way of speech.
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The male raised a brow, unsure of what had just occurred. Had he made an enemy? If so, then that's definitely a dreadful thing for only just meeting him. His mind, then, pondered if this was some custom. He has done some traveling here and there, but he has not yet met any type of society that acted naturally like this.

For attempting to be nice, the mocking expression did very much tick him off, but he tried to ignore it. Continuing to sport his smile as it remained on his face, he spoke, "Um, right. DH, it is." He considered the added T was too much for a mere name. "I am here fo' some tye o' work." Work was very easy to find in the Cold South region, for in his village there were not too many people eager to travel and move there just to pay the bills, since of the cold. Though, he wanted to meet new types of people, and learn about other customs and cultures. Such things interested him very much so.

As he sat, he fidgeted in his seat a tad, as what ever could be causing the discomfort was almost completely hidden by his ashen trenchcoat. It was a sword on a rotating axis on his characoal belt. The weapon was a long, grey blade that had lost its shine for it was mainly dull now. The handle, in contrast, appeared very clean and new-ish. It was a bronze color that was very short. It was meant to only be a one handed sword, which was the reasoning for the handle having no room for two hands of it.

After he finished speaking, he gestured to the other and said, "And ye?" In a warm voice, as best as he could, despite how offended he was initially from the male's way of speech.

 

Damien took a long pause after the guy had said "And Ye?". Was he fricken serious. He looked at him then shook his head. What ever, People like this come all the time. "I don't give out jobs, I seek them" He said in an almost emotionless tone. unlike the anger in his voice, he sounded kind of tired. Plus, Nothing here has really hit me yet. Damien was still new to seeking out jobs. "You look uncomfortable" he said with out even looking at him. He could hear the uneasy sounds he was making as he fidgeted. 

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Damien took a long pause after the guy had said "And Ye?". Was he fricken serious. He looked at him then shook his head. What ever, People like this come all the time. "I don't give out jobs, I seek them" He said in an almost emotionless tone. unlike the anger in his voice, he sounded kind of tired. Plus, Nothing here has really hit me yet. Damien was still new to seeking out jobs. "You look uncomfortable" he said with out even looking at him. He could hear the uneasy sounds he was making as he fidgeted. 

 

He tilted his head, trying to understand the male's... Hm... Not too much to call this emotion, at least, Alaric couldn't think of a best fit adjective for the emotion, er... Lack of emotion in his voice. Did he think I was asking him if for a job? Maybe he's just having a bad day... He couldn't tell, but figuring it out won't help anyway, for his poor people skills. He knew as much as he tried to think of the reasoning, it'd all just merely be in vain. 

 

He paused for a moment, until he hesitantly decided that he'd aid in the male's mood. He spoke slowly, trying to copy the others' speech pattern, so his accent wouldn't be as weird. "Aye, aye. I wasn't trying to ang'r ye. I was nat looking for a job from ye. I was answering question. Remember? Ye as't why I came by here. Jus' taking a break from walkin' for a while."

 

He heard the question of his uncomfortableness and brought on a nervous smile, "Ah, that. My sword. It kep'ts moving my belt up. I'd tak' my weapon off, but tha's considered rude where I'm from and some ot'er places I've been to. Though, they were all places in the Cold South." He said with a simple shrug. Maybe weapons would be a good conversation starter. He removed his sword, that was connected with a small golden colored clip which was attached to a strap on the handle of the sword. His light, faded blue irises gazed upon the sword for a moment, before moving his sight to the other next to him. He had hoped that since this tavern wasn't located in the Cold South region, it'd be ok, and placed it neatly across his lap. Still trying to keep his friendliness, he wondered, "Wha' about ye? Do ye have a protection of sorts?" 

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He tilted his head, trying to understand the male's... Hm... Not too much to call this emotion, at least, Alaric couldn't think of a best fit adjective for the emotion, er... Lack of emotion in his voice. Did he think I was asking him if for a job? Maybe he's just having a bad day... He couldn't tell, but figuring it out won't help anyway, for his poor people skills. He knew as much as he tried to think of the reasoning, it'd all just merely be in vain. 

 

He paused for a moment, until he hesitantly decided that he'd aid in the male's mood. He spoke slowly, trying to copy the others' speech pattern, so his accent wouldn't be as weird. "Aye, aye. I wasn't trying to ang'r ye. I was nat looking for a job from ye. I was answering question. Remember? Ye as't why I came by here. Jus' taking a break from walkin' for a while."

 

He heard the question of his uncomfortableness and brought on a nervous smile, "Ah, that. My sword. It kep'ts moving my belt up. I'd tak' my weapon off, but tha's considered rude where I'm from and some ot'er places I've been to. Though, they were all places in the Cold South." He said with a simple shrug. Maybe weapons would be a good conversation starter. He removed his sword, that was connected with a small golden colored clip which was attached to a strap on the handle of the sword. His light, faded blue irises gazed upon the sword for a moment, before moving his sight to the other next to him. He had hoped that since this tavern wasn't located in the Cold South region, it'd be ok, and placed it neatly across his lap. Still trying to keep his friendliness, he wondered, "Wha' about ye? Do ye have a protection of sorts?" 

 

Damien gave a slight smirk from is accent. Now finding it entertaining. "I guess you could say that" If there was one way to get Damien to be friendly. It was either over drinking togather or talking about weapons. He pulled out the Dagger and Tomahawk. The dagger was a dark almost full night black color. While the Tomahawk had a more Blue tint to it with the black. He followed by removing his 2 flintlocks. and Last but not least the Sword on his back which had seemed to be a blade meant for one handed but the Hilt would allow 2 hands on it as it would seem. "This is my protection . . . Not counting my trump card" He smirked when he said that.

 

The sword he pulled out was Silver. It looked like a katana like hilt but the blade was rugged and had chips and razor sharp edges in it.

 

He also pointed to his right side to show another 2 flintlock holsters with out any actually being there. "I plan to get 2 more when I find ones that fit my style"

 

He looked back at his sword. "So tell me about your weapon, I regularly don't see many with just a sword"

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Damien gave a slight smirk from is accent. Now finding it entertaining. "I guess you could say that" If there was one way to get Damien to be friendly. It was either over drinking togather or talking about weapons. He pulled out the Dagger and Tomahawk. The dagger was a dark almost full night black color. While the Tomahawk had a more Blue tint to it with the black. He followed by removing his 2 flintlocks. and Last but not least the Sword on his back which had seemed to be a blade meant for one handed but the Hilt would allow 2 hands on it as it would seem. "This is my protection . . . Not counting my trump card" He smirked when he said that.

 

The sword he pulled out was Silver. It looked like a katana like hilt but the blade was rugged and had chips and razor sharp edges in it.

 

He also pointed to his right side to show another 2 flintlock holsters with out any actually being there. "I plan to get 2 more when I find ones that fit my style"

 

He looked back at his sword. "So tell me about your weapon, I regularly don't see many with just a sword"

 

He gazed upon the blades curiously, noticing he had no weapons of the long ranged type. Alarik had an assumption that he'd have, at least, one from all which was being shown. Though, amongst all the 'protection' that it seemed the male carried, the Silver was very interesting indeed. He had not seen such a sword before, and it was very neat on how it was made.

 

It took him a moment to realize that he had been asked a question. Pausing for a moment, to remember the question asked, he quickly responded, "Ah, my sword. Yes. It is only for protection. Nuttin' moe than that. Ye has weapons to fight for for entertainment. Correct? Well, as I spok'. Where I'm from, you dun' fight too often, unless necessary. I used to be.. err...." His gazes slowly crossed to the side as he tried thinking of the word in English, until it quickly came to him, as it did as it left, "Ah!" He exclaimed, which came with his rememberance. "Lumberjack! I was lumberjack. Sometimes, fox or bears will come an' attack. As soon as danger is a spot, we draw protection to kill it." His word choices may have been strange, but he really did try his best.

 

He slipped to the side of the seat for the purpose of standing, as he grabbed the handle of his one handed sword, and raised his trench coat slightly. He clipped the handle onto the pivot clip, before letting go of the edge of his coat, so it may fall gracefully to his side. He glanced at the other. "How 'bout ye show me how to fight some? Ye surely has more experience than I."

 

The DH seemed to enjoy speaking of his blades fondly. Maybe, he'd show Alarik how to fight? It'd surely be helpful, since the male had barely had a chance to use his own sword that still hung at his waist.

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He gazed upon the blades curiously, noticing he had no weapons of the long ranged type. Alarik had an assumption that he'd have, at least, one from all which was being shown. Though, amongst all the 'protection' that it seemed the male carried, the Silver was very interesting indeed. He had not seen such a sword before, and it was very neat on how it was made.

 

It took him a moment to realize that he had been asked a question. Pausing for a moment, to remember the question asked, he quickly responded, "Ah, my sword. Yes. It is only for protection. Nuttin' moe than that. Ye has weapons to fight for for entertainment. Correct? Well, as I spok'. Where I'm from, you dun' fight too often, unless necessary. I used to be.. err...." His gazes slowly crossed to the side as he tried thinking of the word in English, until it quickly came to him, as it did as it left, "Ah!" He exclaimed, which came with his rememberance. "Lumberjack! I was lumberjack. Sometimes, fox or bears will come an' attack. As soon as danger is a spot, we draw protection to kill it." His word choices may have been strange, but he really did try his best.

 

He slipped to the side of the seat for the purpose of standing, as he grabbed the handle of his one handed sword, and raised his trench coat slightly. He clipped the handle onto the pivot clip, before letting go of the edge of his coat, so it may fall gracefully to his side. He glanced at the other. "How 'bout ye show me how to fight some? Ye surely has more experience than I."

 

The DH seemed to enjoy speaking of his blades fondly. Maybe, he'd show Alarik how to fight? It'd surely be helpful, since the male had barely had a chance to use his own sword that still hung at his waist.

 

Damien Laughed for the first time being seen with him. "So you wanna spar" He said. The blades cuts and and edges and razors had a few purposes. Since the blade could not have a normal sheathe, he carried it on his back in a leather strap he could set it into. The blade was made for countering an attack and using it against them. Of course Damien had not yet fully grasped the fighting style with the sword. It was one of the 6 things he has left from before. He sheathed the weaponry. And headed towards the Tavern exit. "Don't wanna disturb the peace" he said. As he pushed open the door and stared out he waited for the man to follow. He liked this man. That wasn't very common for him to say. He waited for the other guy to step outside

 

Damien knew he would have at least more experiance. But if this guy was a lumber jack. He would have enough strength to strike his blade out of his very own hands.
(So I haven't actually done combat before, is there a certain rule or such)

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