Closed [The Rearing Stallion] Oh the Nobility!

[Lorden Ladis]

54th of Winter, 514 AV

"Bloody, tiring, and full of heartbreak. And that my friend, is what it's like to be a knight," Lorden proclaimed somewhat solemnly, allowing his voice to drift over the flickering pub. As he spoke, the knight turned from the brunet that sat beside him. Lorden's mouth began to open obligingly, as he took a foaming mug, from the ruby-haired waitress that had danced in silently to his rear.

"Of course, there is the honor in it, to consider too,"Lorden spoke to his spur-of-the-moment companion, as he fiddled around in his pant's pocket. Granting the tavern-wench a thankful smile, the raven-haired swordsman raised his dominant hand from beside his chair, and positioned it over the outstretched palm of the redheaded wench.

Slowly, the man allowed a selection of 'silver miza' to fall from his grasp, into the woman's own pale hand; the multi-colored faces of the coins, displaying their sheen in what precious little, fire-born light, lept across their smooth surface. As the last of the glimmering gemstones slipped past his own hold, Lorden withdrew another coin of the same-ilk from his side, and placed it in the server's hand. The back of his skull tingling, Lorden reached his idle hand up, and forced shut the woman's fingers, with his non-dominant hand.

"Thank you m'lady," The knight spoke, lacing his tone with unfounded respect, and, as soft a tone as he could manage.

"I'm hardly of any status, Ser. Still, I do hear quite a bit of flattery. You see, I've learned to pick up on it," the red-lipped wench, allowed her teeth to peek through a smiling mouth innocently, as her words cooed the softly-put accusation into the knight's ears. Lorden's heart skipped for a beat, but nonetheless he retained his smirk. Slowly, the swordsman squinted a bit.

"How did you know I was a knight?" Lorden questioned, doing his best to dance around, the woman's deflection of his flirt.

"Everyone within two tables of this one, knows you're a Ser, Ser," the woman informed him, emphasizing his knightly title, as a self-amused mirth flared in her amber eyes. Lorden's own smile almost faltered, as his chest clenched a bit more.

"You would accuse me of boasting?" the knight questioned, defaulting to what sounded like wounded sarcasm, as he racked his mind for a counter to any further 'affronts', that he figured might come, from the fiery beauty.

"Your tone tells me, that I've already insulted you once knight, doing it twice, would hardly be polite," as her smile faded to a coy smirk, the waitress tucked his gemstone of a tip, in between her bosom suggestively. Not allowing the knight, any further retorts, the redhead turned from the half-occupied table, and began on her way to the next bunch of men.

I wish the archives would give a lecture on flirting, the knight thought to himself, admitting defeat internally. Still, the swordsman, couldn't help but cock his head inquisitively at the flirty barmaid, as she stepped away from him.

Woman definitely has the ass of fine breeding stock, no matter what she says, Lorden thought. Still, as his mind and eyes drifted, the twenty-year old felt a twinge of shame. Slowly the swordsman averted his eyes, moving them over to his table companion.

"Don't give me that look," Lorden said with suddenly renewed vigor, to his drinking buddy. The brunet raised an eyebrow, beginning to speak, from where he sat across from the knight.

"I thought you knights were supposed to be good, at getting the damsel," the man replied ironically, his own foamy drink in hand.

"She'll be back," the knight assured the man, a somewhat conflicted mood urging itself upon him.

"Aye, she will be, only to take more of your coin," the brunet responded heartily over his foaming cup, before diving his bearded face back into it. The man began to gulp his ale with eager swallows.

Lorden leaned back into his chair, the old seat squeaking as he relaxed. The knight assured his grip on the barrel-like cup, that was in his hand, and raised it to his own waiting lips. Lorden exhaled in relief, as the nutty sting of the red-brown froth, began to slink through his teeth, over his shriveled tongue, and down into his drying throat. As his head tilted back, Lorden's hair hung from his chugging head. Reluctantly, the man dropped the mug and his head, back down to their normal elevations.

Heart blood of Syliras that is, Lorden mused to himself, as the stinging aftertaste of the brown ale, began to assert itself in his wet mouth. Just as he was about to raise his wooden glass, back up to his beardless face, a recognizable voice interjected into his thoughts, interrupting his planned actions as it did. Slowly Lorden sat his cup down, and starred at the familiar form before him, as it's lips moved.

"Since your so interested in the wench, I'd wager you'd know, that she looks rather preoccupied right now," the man sitting across from him gestured behind the knight, with his mug, as he spoke. Curiously, Lorden moved in his creaking chair a bit, turning his head to glance over his shoulder, as he did so.

With raised eyes Lorden watched, as a man practically pressed himself upon the sly waitress he had conversed with, grabbing at her drunkenly; and poking fun no doubt, as his mouth moved endlessly. Unable to hear what the man said, Lorden's legs almost moved on their own accord to find out. With slowed reluctance, the knight turned back around in his seat.

"Not really our problem is it?" Lorden pressed his words upon the other man. The brunet practically raised both his eyebrows as the swordsman spoke.

"Mine? No," the man said, annoyingly absolving himself of responsibility, while at the same time, obviously trying to push it upon his black-haired acquaintance. Lorden's eyes widened a bit, as his inner conflict began to wage a war within his own mind.

"Because I flirted with the girl... Suddenly, you think I'm her keeper?" the knight asked the brunet, just as much directing the question to himself, as he spoke. His compatriot suddenly planted his mug on the table a bit shakily, and locked eyes with the man across from him.

"Tell me, do you stop being a knight, when the little metal sword unpins from your shirt? Y--er-r words before, said differen-tly, from m-e-i point of view," the buzzed brunet was practically drilling his brown eyes, into Lorden's own blue orbs, as he spoke the heavy-handed, and somewhat slurred, words.

"How about you tell me, why did I choose you, to drink with?" Lorden questioned, on the verge of giving in to the man's point.

"My honesty," the man's frown turned into a drunken smirk. Suddenly, the brunet gestured behind the knight.

"T-e-rr be f-e-air, you could have done worse,"

"Fair enough," Lorden said, sliding his chair back, as his knees unfolded. Slowly the knight's eyes and feet turned towards the commotion, that was still taking place, a few tables over.

Lorden took a deep breath, and stilled himself. After a few lethargic bootsteps, the knight glanced back behind him. The lone good-nature drunkard that sat where he now looked, tipped his ale towards Lorden encouragingly with his left hand, and made a shooing motion with his right. Lorden slowly returned to his path, that would take him to the other table.

I'm taking advice from a drunk idiot... Gods help me, the knight thought as he walked. Each step Lorden took, skipped his heart into a greater beat; the impact of every footfall escalated, till his shin nearly shattered, every time his leather-clad foot touched the wood flooring below it. The black-haired man took a hastened gulp, as he came close enough to his destination, to hear the slurred words of his target, as the man held the woman's wrist and barred her from simply walking away from him.

"Stop playing hard to get, the alleyway isn't even that far a walk," as the drunken words entered his mind, a rush of confidence flooded the base of Lorden's skull, and with it, a bit of self-redeeming rage.

"She doesn't seem like she wants to go anywhere, but away from you," Lorden said, surprising himself with his boldness, as he clamped a bare hand on the drunkard's own wrist.

[Yuri Lehrer]

Yuri Lehrer found himself at a bit of a crossroads as to his activity for the afternoon, he had been commissioned for a delivery job which he had completed earlier in the day, it hadn’t even been that difficult, he just had to get a package from the employer to his daughter on the other side of the city, he had done so with ease, the daughter had been appreciative, and her eyes seemed to dance over Yuri’s features for a moment before she had thanked him for his efforts, and gave him a couple of silver mizas as payment.

The Young Mercenary bowed slightly to the woman before he turned to leave, after he took a few steps, he realised that he had been over payed, but when he turned back, the woman had disappeared into the oncoming crowed of people, he wondered whether the woman had given him the extra money as a tip or by mistake, before he continued to walk along with the crowd, winding his way through several streets to find himself at the crossroads he now found himself at.

Considering his options, Yuri thought about how he would proceed, as he was still unfamiliar with the layout of Syliras I suppose I could take the left street, and see where that leads, or I might go right, and see where it goes… choices are sometimes so hard to make… After a few moments of contemplation, Yuri made to head down the right street, walking for several minutes.

Yuri came to a stop when he realised that the cold was starting to get at him, it felt like the air was biting at any piece of skin which wasn't covered by clothing, this wasn't unusual considering that it was winter, but the young mercenary, decided that he wanted to head to a tavern to warm himself up before heading on his way back out to his campsite to most likely train his endurance.

Pressing on, now with an objective in mind, Yuri made his way to a building which looked like a tavern with a sign out the front reading ‘The Rearing Stallion’, making his way over to the door, the young mercenary paused for a moment as some people exited the building, entering after they had passed.
Inside the tavern looked like any other, at least to Yuri it did, there were people sitting all around at tables drinking and enjoying others company, with some barmaids taking and giving people’s orders to the correct people, it looked all in all peaceful.

Making his way over to a table which was unoccupied, the young mercenary sat down, and for all intents and purposes, looked to be like any other person at the Rearing Stallion, albeit with a sword, deep violet cape and leather camouflage armour on, as he waited for one of the barmaids to make their way over to him, Yuri listened to someone who sounded as though they might have already had a couple of drinks, a couple of tables over, talk, rather solemnly about being a knight.

"Bloody, tiring, and full of heartbreak. And that my friend, is what it's like to be a knight," There was a slight pause, as the ‘knight’ must have taken a sip form whatever beverage he was consuming "Of course, there is the honor in it, to consider too,” Another pause, which made the young mercenary curious, but not overly so, as a brunette barmaid walked over to him “What’ll it be, ser?”

This brought him back from his impromptu eavesdropping to what he felt like drinking “If it is at all possible, I would simply like some water, I’m not too fond of alcohol, I believe I wouldn't agree with it, and just to let you know, I’m not a knight, but a wandering mercenary, I had a job earlier today, got my payment, and was on my way back to my campsite in the Bronze Woods, but the cold was getting a little too much, so I stopped here to warm myself up.”

Looking up at the barmaid, who was looking at Yuri, the same way that the daughter of the man had earlier, it made him a little self-conscious What? Is there something on my face? I don’t think that there would be… before he was able to say anything the barmaid danced away from him, skilfully moving between the tables, to get his drink of water, which wouldn’t cost him anything, but something he would be happy to tip for.

While he waited for his drink, Yuri listened back to the ‘knight’ as he spoke with someone else on his table, the mercenary didn’t really hear everything that was said, but what he heard caught his attention "Since you’re so interested in the wench, I'd wager you'd know, that she looks rather preoccupied right now," The way it was phrased, even if it was a little slurred, made the young man look around the tavern for the person, which was being talked about.

It took barely any time for Yuri to see who the subject of the conversation was, it was a redheaded barmaid, who was being accosted by a customer, that crossed the line in the proverbial sand for Yuri, and as the Brunette barmaid returned to his table with his drink, he gave her a silver miza as a tip, before he got up and began walking over to the man to get him to stop.

With every footfall, Yuri’s stride became greater and greater, slightly more forced than the last, which was rare, but when someone was in trouble, he couldn’t stand by and watch as there was a victim of a crime, however minor, being made here and now, it went against everything he stood for which made him think for a moment Perhaps I should become a knight… after all?

By the time the thought had crossed his mind he was only a single table away from where the commotion was taking place, and he was able to hear what the evidently drunk customer was saying "Stop playing hard to get, the alleyway isn't even that far a walk," It took a large amount of self-restraint on Yuri’s part to avoid punching the man outright there and then.

By chance, another person had also walked over to the drunken customer, and this person sounded like the ‘knight’ from before, as he clamped a hand on the man’s wrist, the 'knight' spoke "She doesn't seem like she wants to go anywhere, but away from you," Yuri walked over to back the ‘knight’ up, and spoke as well, a little bit of strain in his hushed voice “I would agree with this man, you should let her go, or you will have more trouble on your hands than you are able to handle.”

As he spoke, Yuri almost casually brought his hand down to the hilt of his broadsword for a moment, before bringing it back up to lay it upon the customer’s other wrist, a look on his face, which would be scary to behold, or what he hoped would be scary, devoid of any expression, and staring into the man’s eyes, Yuri spoke once more, his voice barely audible over the noises of the Rearing Stallion “If you do not oblige, I might have to get some of the knights, and what do you reckon they will make of this? I suggest you leave now and come back when you have sobered up, otherwise things… might become difficult for you, wouldn't you agree?”

As he stood there waiting to see what the man would do, and whether the ‘knight’ would understand what he was doing, bluffing to get the man to leave, or else the two of them would have to remove him themselves. The Young Mercenary also thought about how he looked acting as he did, while dressed with his armour and cloak on I must look like a knight now, haha... I doubt that, my armour isn't nearly shiny enough...

[Lorden Ladis]

54th of Winter, 514 AV

Lorden faced off mentally with the dazed drunk, drilling his blue orbs in his best unwavering bluff, into the man's own dizzied, squinting eyes. The knight's heart was pounding so hard, beating his temples so fervently, that the sound of confident footfalls approaching on his rear, was all but lost to him. Lorden was about to open his mouth to profess a less obscure threat, than the one nestled in his previous words, when a forced voice from behind almost had him losing his grip on the drunkard, and all but spurred the knight to jump in his adrenal state.

“I would agree with this man, you should let her go, or you will have more trouble on your hands than you are able to handle,” Lorden's racing mind quickly wrapped itself around the hardly underhanded, blunt words, that radiated out from behind his back.

Sweet Sylir, I have backup? the knight thought to himself, noting as a seemingly friendly hand inched into his vision, and moved to grasp the drunk along with him. Taking a breath, Lorden made a point to reassert his own loosened hold on the drunkard's arm, this time in an even more confident manner, than he had pressed upon the poor excuse of a man originally.

“If you do not oblige, I might have to get some of the knights, and what do you reckon they will make of this? I suggest you leave now and come back when you have sobered up, otherwise things… might become difficult for you, wouldn't you agree?” the seemingly noble man kept talking, and Lorden continued to all but nod joyfully, as the words graced his reddened ears. Looking over his shoulder, Lorden met the armored man with an appreciative gaze, before bringing his azure eyes back to challenge the trouble maker, the two now grasped in unison.

"Forget the other knights, I'll drag your poor excuse for an ass, down to the Tank myself, in my armor or not," as he built upon his newfound compatriot's threats, Lorden did his best to look confident and threatening, in fact, a part of him was even beginning to take on those qualities, as the situation seemed to sway gratefully in his favor.

The drunk in question almost framed an animalistic snarl, as his eyes bounced with a combination of trepidation and rage, between the unarmored knight and the camouflage covered mercenary. Giving in the black-haired man, made what was almost a growling humph, as he ripped his hands away from the waitress's form, and the two chivalrous men's grasp.

"Ye-rr rears not w-oerth it," the man proclaimed revoltingly, as he backed away from the table, snarling at the redheaded server as he spoke. His own snarl on his face, Lorden stepped in front of the same woman, a shot of pride fueling his bold move.

"And you're not worth her's," the knight all but gouged the man with his eyes, as he spoke.

"Get the petch out of her," Lorden demanded. Running his eyes over the knight's face, the man turned, the knight didn't even bother to watch him scurry away; instead, he himself whirled around, to face the woman he knew to be behind him.

"Are you all right m'lady," the knight questioned, already knowing the answer, but feeling obligated to ask anyway.

Of course she's alright, I just chanced being throttled or worse, for her, Lorden couldn't help but think; quickly however, the swordsman pushed down the worried thoughts, as the woman starred at him somewhat blankly. Swallowing noticeably, the redhead began to speak in a somewhat cracked voice, devoid of the coy tune he had noticed when he'd conversed with her previously that afternoon.

"I... I'm alright," when the waitress spoke blankly, Lorden forced his features to flash her an appreciative smile.

"Good," the knight began to run an appreciative hand through his hair, as he spoke. Lorden took a deep breath.

"That's good," the knight repeated, somewhat shuffled around, as his heart settled back into it's normal rhythm, and a charged feeling worked through his muscles.

With his left hand still in his hair, Lorden glanced over to the armored man who was also in front of him. The knight didn't know quite what to say, but nonetheless he stood there respectfully, waiting on the man to offer his take, or at least ask the waitress something.

If nothing else, I can always shove a drink down his throat, the wired twenty-year old mused half-attentively to himself. The knight had yet to loose the apprehension that the confrontation had bestowed upon him.