Solo [The Blue Bull] Ways of Worshiping Death

[Grim Ravenwood]

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67th of Winter 517AV
The Blue Bull

Certainly, there was no better way to end a day of hard work and training, than with a mug of sweet, golden liquid in the Blue Bull, said once a wise man. Solemnly agreeing with that statement, Grim made way towards the notorious inn, doing his best to not linger on the streets. After all, if the shadows could take one’s sight, they could certainly take more. And if they were to, by any chance, do so, life would become even more uncomfortable. Considering that he would be alive after another encounter, of course.

And with the ever climbing number of missing people, remaining alive after another encounter was highly unlikely. Then again, maybe they all just went out for an organized picnic, or a walk trough the woods and lost their way. Grim let a self-deprecating smile climb the corner of his lips. At least the shadows couldn't take away his tasteless humor.

Dusk certainly wasn't keen on heading out with him tonight either, opting for safety in the skies. So much for friendship...

Still, even if his sight was impaired, his destination was far from hard to find. After all, merry laughter, and the, although muted, still prominent, sounds of drums and fiddles reached out far from the confines of the tavern’s walls, inviting anyone and everyone inside. At least, they made the darkness feel less barren, Grim thought.

It wasn’t soon, until the Bull was in sight. It was rather lit up, with lanterns and candles set in the most odd of places. An outsider would probably laugh after observing the scene, not knowing the reason behind it. Even so, the constant threat of the shadows did little to dampen the mood, apparently. Drinks and food were still in abundance, and couples still graced the dancing floor. Reaching out to his pocket, the Eiyon pulled out a crude, leather-fashioned pouch, filled with around five miza. Bouncing its weight in his hand, he set out to find a place to sit and drink, maybe find some company.

He expertly dodged the people that moved between, mostly occupied tables. There were more people visiting than usually, both Akalaks who tore trough the crowd like they owned the place, as wells sea merchants, entertainers, and the regular population. Without his scythe in the way, moving around was rather easy, not to mention the fact that he bumped into things a lot less. Though, his hands did feel rather empty. But then again, so did his stomach. Something he was hoping to change very soon.

Squinting his color drained sight, the Raven haired man sought out a seat to call his own, drowning as he found that almost all were occupied. However, just then did he hear word all to familiar in the mass of chatter that surrounded him.

[Grim Ravenwood]

¤

Someone in his nearest vicinity, called out the name of the goddess Dira, several times in fact. That alone, was enough to pick his interest. After all, nothing makes alcohol sweeter than sharing a common conversational topic. And, Dira's name,and the realm she governed, was rarely a pleasant one over drinks and food. At least it was when it came to "regular" people.

As the young Eiyon came to look the direction from where the sound came, he spied two middle aged men at a small, corner table. One of them had thick, combed hair, one striped with grey strands, and had a world weary look in his eyes. His drink was untouched. The other one was several years younger than his companion, Grim guessed. And by the way he behaved, even to a blind man, it would be obvious that he was intoxicated. Both of them had heavy, worn cloaks, ones that have seen their fair share of travel. However, their boots had little to no mud on them, and their clothes were mostly dustless.

"What a pleasant evening gentlemen!" Grim said with a flutter as he approached the table, clearly aiming to sit at the single vacant chair next to them. However, the more sober of the two men attempted to stop him before he could, narrowing his eyes at the stranger.

"Actually, we were just lea-" He started, only to be cut off by the eager Eiyon.

"Why nonsense!" He retorted, taking a seat anyway. "Can we get three gallons of ale here!" Said Grim, receiving a small nod and smile from the nearby waitress. Meanwhile, the more drunk of the two men had just caught up to what was happening, and punched his friend's shoulder lightly, before he could issue any more protests.

"Heh! F-father a-always told me that a man who treats..." He paused there, either for dramatic effect, or because he lost his thought. "...is a g-good man!"

And Grim couldn't agree more.

"Shyke." Cursed the other under his untrimmed beard. His eyes were still unpleasantly focused in Grim's direction, and the Eiyon was painfully aware of the effect his presence had on some people. Still, as one of the had already confirmed, nothing like a few mugs of beverage to soften a hard heart.

"So, i couldn't help but overhear..."

[Grim Ravenwood]

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True to his prediction, the grumpy man, one he had came to know as Thomas, had dropped the frown from his face after the Eiyon introduced himself. And after a few (dozen) sips from the tall mug of ale that stood under his beard. He was rather friendly, Grim thought, as he listened to the man talk. About his family mostly, and abut a daughter he had that was waiting form him to bring her a toy. One he still didn't pick up, by the way.

His brother, Edward, was, thankfully, deeply immersed in the ever more complicated task of bringing his lips to the edge of the canister that held his, again, ever depleting drink. He tended to speak before he would think, but was, in the words of his brother, a fool. But a kind fool, he would add every time. They were both from Zeltiva it seemed, and were in the business of candlemaking, one that is going quite well for them, seeing as they have just received a large order from some institute in the city, or something like that.

The reasoning for their trip, was visiting their third, and oldest brother, who was, apparently in Black Rock.

"Indeed..." Thomas muttered, his voice not without a certain hint of sadness. "We begged him to come back home, but he wouldn't listen a word."

"True that." Edward meekly said, before continuing to empty his mug.

"After he became one of ye." The candlecrafter said, pointing at the scythe depicted on Grim's palm. "He wasn't the same."

"True that." Said Edward again.

"He took the first ship to Black Rock, and all of a sudden decided he wants to spend the rest of his life on that barren stone." He would add again, sadness turning into frustration the more he spoke. "It ain't just right. He's the eldest, and he was supposed to continue the family trade."

In the short silence, Grim pondered the situation. Of course, they did not understand what it felt like to be marked. What it felt like to be able to smell, see, or even feel the things he did after that day on the graveyard. Becoming an Eiyon opened his eyes to the world. What they all saw was just the crust of the world, simple and bleak. But he? He could see the history of any place, any person, just by visiting their final place of rest. After all, no turn in history was ever made without Death. From the Vaterrian, to the feuds and political games of the noble families. It was plain and simple, history was written by the single greatest force in the universe - Death.

Grim, in that manner, completely understood how their brother felt, and why. Yet, did not voice his opinions, unwilling to upset the two brothers, seing as it was a rather sensitive topic to them.

"Hey brother?"

"Yes, Edward."

"My drink is empty."

[Grim Ravenwood]

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"Here, take mine." Said Thomas as he slid his mug towards his brother.

"So, any news from Black Rock." Asked Grim with genuine curiosity. Black Rock, he knew, was the location of Dira's home, if one could call it that. Having never seen it himself, Grim only knew about it from stories of other people. Most claim it is an eerie place, but still undeserving of the dark and sinister attributes usually stamped on it.

"Not really..." Said the candlemaker, stroking his bearded chin in thought. Just as Grim's hopes went down, he suddenly remembered.

"Tonight is the 67th, right?" He asked for confirmation, only to receive it in the form of a puzzled nod from the Eiyon. "In three days, there will be some sort of festival held there."

"Really?" Grim asked, wording his curt question slowly. Among all the stories and rumors he had the pleasure of hearing, in none was there a word about any kind of festival. Grim was certain that he would have remembered that sort of thing.

"In a way..." Thomas spoke, only to elaborate further. "No celebration really. But the gifted write poems to Dira, and recite them to her in the evening."

That sounded like a wonderful idea, Grim thought. He solemnly wished that he could attend the recitals, and maybe write make a poem himself. There was a lot he wished to say, a lot that he couldn't. And while he prayed regularly, it would, of course, be completely different if the goddess was right there, in front of him.

"People tell me that it gets pretty morbid..." He would add, only to shift his attention to his brother, who was now slouched over the table, hand gripping his stomach.

"I-i think that i'm gonna be sick, brother." Edward muttered trough a groan.

"Ah, shyke..." Thomas sighed, sloping his hand over his brother's shoulder, attempting to make him stand "Sorry Grim, but i gotta take care of this poor sob, before he makes an even greater mess here. And gods damn me if i'm going to clean after him again." He spat as he got his drunken brother on his feet, sending off a last nod in the young Eiyon's direction before proceeding towards the door. Grim, on the other hand, was still deep in thought.

"Talk about coming here to have a good time." The unfortunate Eiyon said to nobody in particular, taking a last sip of his own drink, one that became, for some reason, more bitter than he remembered. He was saddened by the fact that he had found about the festival only now. Time was an enemy, and even if he were to find a bout that sailed to Black Rock, it would be long over by the time he reached its shores. Then again, his job would not wait either.

"Shyke." He pushed himself from the table, throwing a number of silver miza next to the half-empty flagons. He would then pull his hood over his head, before proceeding towards the door himself, doing little to avoid the various people that got in his way.