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Post by The Gambler on Jan 2, 2014 22:28:37 GMT -5
Lacking about as much class as creativity, Bert's tavern is a simple two-story watering hole of wood with a thatch roof. A sign on the front depicts and fat man with a bushy beard and wide smile, with a mug of ale in either hand.
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Post by The Gambler on Jan 2, 2014 22:29:49 GMT -5
Zyraxes deposited Trajan and Daenya far enough from the tavern so as not to rouse alarm among its patrons, before taking off into the night sky on silent wings.
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Post by Deleted on Jan 2, 2014 22:37:36 GMT -5
Daenya looked around, never having been to this part of the city, wondering at what sort of lowly scum lived there. "Lead the way," She said to Trajan.
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Post by The Gambler on Jan 2, 2014 22:43:05 GMT -5
"Go in the front door and order a drink." Trajan said as he made his way towards the tavern, eyes locked on the second story. "Try and enjoy yourself."
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Post by Deleted on Jan 2, 2014 22:51:43 GMT -5
Daenya studied Trajan. "My outfit and weapons won't make them suspicious?" She asked, somewhat disbelieving.
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Post by The Gambler on Jan 2, 2014 22:55:54 GMT -5
"I'll kiss you on the mouth if there's anyone in that establishment not armed." Trajan said with a hollow smile, nudging his half-sister. "Just go in, find our mark, and order a drink."
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Post by Deleted on Jan 2, 2014 23:00:41 GMT -5
Daenya paused briefly, then nodded and headed into the tavern. Even as she made her way to the bar her eyes scanned the room to see what she was dealing with.
"Ale," She said as she arrived at the bar.
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Post by The Gambler on Jan 2, 2014 23:08:17 GMT -5
Those gathered were the usual miscreants that frequented such establishments; sellswords plying their trade, smallfolk trying to forget the times they lived in, and crippled soldiers that drank themselves to sleep every night to combat the horrors they endured. True to Trajan's word, they were all armed in some manner or other and none gave a second glance at her weapons, preferring to look at her teats.
"Welcome to Bert's!" the living inspiration for the sign outside the tavern stood behind the bar, the aforementioned Bert a portly fellow with a bushy brown beer and a smile that never seemed to falter regardless of his less than savory clientele. "What kind of ale, lass? We've got barleywine from the Twins, apple ale from Cider Hall, a bitter draft from White Harbor, and a honey ale of my own brew."
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Post by Deleted on Jan 2, 2014 23:15:37 GMT -5
Daenya made sure not to look directly at the man, lest he get a good luck at her eyes.
"The White Harbor bitter," She said, placing a copper on the bar. She gave another brief glance around the room to see if there were any men who seemed likely to be hired security.
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Post by The Gambler on Jan 2, 2014 23:21:58 GMT -5
Daenya did not notice anyone that did not seem to be lost in their drink.
As Bert went to fill a mug with ale, she noticed that he walked with a pronounced limp and as he handed her the filled mug that the of his right hand was covered in scar tissue.
"So what brings you to Bert's?" he asked, his smile infectious. "Everyone here's got some story or 'nother."
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Post by Deleted on Jan 2, 2014 23:42:59 GMT -5
"First place I found," Daenya replied, cradling the mug. "New to the city and already I don't like it."
She frowned. "Say, what happened to your leg?"
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Post by The Gambler on Jan 2, 2014 23:49:45 GMT -5
"What's not to like?" the man asked optimistically. "The air is fresh, the buildings new, and once this war is won that harbor will make us the trade capital for the realm."
"Cask of ale crushed it." Bert insisted. "Not all bad though. Gives me an excuse to tell my old lady to shove off when she tries to get me out and about."
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Post by Deleted on Jan 3, 2014 9:49:09 GMT -5
Daenya chuckled. "Hope you drank that ale, show it who's boss." She took a sip from her flagon and set it down.
"What are the dragons like?" She asked after a moment. "I the human ones. Do they even come out into the city or are they too high and bloody mighty?"
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Post by The Gambler on Jan 3, 2014 17:34:19 GMT -5
Bert laughed at that, a booming bellow that shook the walls and his large belly.
"I did indeed, lass." he said, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. "Slew it like a true knight."
"Certainly 'ave never 'ad a dragon in 'ere." he remarked as if the notion were preposterous. "Some venture into the city though. I hear it said the Crown Prince is often seen at his sept."
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Post by Deleted on Jan 3, 2014 20:16:31 GMT -5
"At a sept, huh," Daenya said, staring down into her ale, wandering how bloody long Trajan was going to be before he made his appearance. The place stank and the people were scum, far below her, and Daenya knew she could only keep it together for so long.
"Well, maybe you'll be lucky one day and have a dragon drink one of your ales."
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Post by The Gambler on Jan 3, 2014 20:26:47 GMT -5
"Surprised me as well the first time some drunkard told me." Bert replied, before laughing again. "Dragon ever enters this tavern, I wouldn't serve them this swill."
There was a sound in the wooden planks above them as a flurry of dust, as if something had fallen from a shelf upstairs.
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Post by Deleted on Jan 3, 2014 20:38:24 GMT -5
"How unfortunate for them," Daenya replied, looking up to the roof. "No doubt they wouldn't want to have this piss pass their lips."
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Post by The Gambler on Jan 3, 2014 20:43:02 GMT -5
"One of my little whelps." Bert replied, following her gaze up to the ceiling. "Can't keep 'em in bed for more than a minute."
"You did pick the bitter, lass." the hefty barkeep said with a shrug, not taking offense. "Have never been a fan of northern ales myself. Can't trust a man that dour to know good drink."
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Post by Deleted on Jan 3, 2014 20:50:24 GMT -5
"All of it's piss," Daenya growled, throwing the tankard over and spilling the ale all over the surface. She was sick of having to talk to this man as if he was on her own level.
"That up there ain't your whelp, I can tell you that."
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Post by The Gambler on Jan 3, 2014 20:59:45 GMT -5
"Plenty of other taverns in the city, lass." Bert said diplomatically, shocked at the hostile turn the conversation had taken. "You're welcome to go to one of them."
He raised a curious eyebrow at her bizarre second point.. He seemed about to speak again when a single crimson drop fell from the ceiling upon the bar that separated them.
The tavern owner looked down with a puzzled expression at the drop seeping into the cheap wood grain, his eyes turning to the ceiling as another fell. It was leaking steadily through the old floorboards where the thud had been heard a moment earlier.
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Post by Deleted on Jan 3, 2014 21:04:55 GMT -5
Daenya grinned when she saw the blood trickling down.
"Huh, wonder what's going on up there." She gazed at him, a half smile on her lips. "Looks like blood to me."
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Post by The Gambler on Jan 3, 2014 21:06:58 GMT -5
The blood drained from Bert's face as he picked up his cleaver to dash upstairs. The patrons not unconscious began to file out of the tavern. None of the unsavory sorts wanted to be around when the Gold Cloaks inevitably showed.
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Post by Deleted on Jan 3, 2014 21:08:31 GMT -5
Daenya grinned and followed Bert leisurely up the stairs, one hand on her sword. She waited until she reached the top before drawing it, looking around to see where the man was.
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Post by The Gambler on Jan 4, 2014 4:29:52 GMT -5
As Daenya followed the heavyset man up the stairs, his booming footsteps echoing in the now eerily quiet corridors as he struggled to get up the flight, she heard another sound. It was a melody, almost too quiet to make out, as well as the sound of children sobbing. It was a famous tune of the Ibbenese whalers, a shanty sung to raise their spirits as they hoisted the sails of their massive ships coated in black tar in the freezing cold. This rendition, though, was slow and devoid of any of the boisterous energy of the original. It sent only a chill down her spine.
What will we do with the drunken whaler
What will we do with the drunken whaler
What will we do with the drunken whaler
Early in the morning
As Daenya reached the top of the stairs, she realized the tavern had no rooms for rent. There were only two and both doors were open. The noises were coming from the one on the right, though the quiet sobbing was soon drowned out by a mournful wail that shook the rafters. Yet, above all this, the haunting melody persisted.
Slice his throat with a rusty cleaver
Slice his throat with a rusty cleaver
Slice his throat with a rusty cleaver
Early in the morning
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Post by Deleted on Jan 4, 2014 8:04:21 GMT -5
Daenya gripped the hilt of her sword harder and went into the room on the right, unsure exactly of what she was going to see.
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all alone and also really bored 
Hopefully going to kickstart the festival too