[The Rearing Stallion] Playing the Game (Closed)

[Rovan Dermane]

Rovan paused and folded his hands again, looking at the two others by the table with a light frown. He had reacted without much thought at Jonathon and almost scolded him, which naturally caused the newcomer to seek social contact with Vizyous instead. He would want to see in which direction the conversation would go before adding something himself. Barking further comments too soon would just make him look like a threatened dog. Careful now, he told himself. No need to make a scene. He felt the tingle of amusement as a thought surfaced. Jonathon had just missed to hear of the Symnestra's deadly heritage. Rovan wondered how he would have acted if he knew of this. A casual remark had left the Symnestra, although he did not seem entirely present. His mind was likely elsewhere in the past, Rovan thought, as he had digged down in it. The scholar glanced over his shoulder, as if to make sure whether more came to their table. He would hate to be surprised a second time. His gaze caught sight of a person wrapped utterly in black for a brief moment. One who definitely did not look like an ordinary citizen. He had reached a conclusion as he turned his eyes back to the table: Taverns are havens for the most mentally unstable and exotic of people.

[Abdul ibn Alazari]

The man in black listens to the conversation seems to come to a conclusion. He walks over to the table where the group is sitting and gestures towards a chair, as if inquiring whether or not he can be seated.

[Jonathon DuFraine]

Jonathon nodded. "Of course. Good to meet you, Nilvisin." Jonathon turned his attention more to the table at large. Seeing as how the conversation had rather slowed, Jonathon simply took a quaff of his drink and carried on. "Well, anyways, what do the both of you do for a living?" Normally it's an innocent question, but in such company, it might make things even more quite.

It was a risk he would have to take. Meanwhile, Jonathon had been concentrating too much on the table to notice anyone else entering the tavern; that is, until the man came right up to their table. Jonathon took him in, a man swathed in black. Mysterious. The way he gestured, it seemed he wanted a seat. "Well, if it's okay with these two, I have no problem with it." Jonathon turned his gaze to the rest of the table.

Looking back at the man, Jonathon had the sudden and ludicrous thought of simply getting up, drawing his short sword, and slicing the cloth from the man's body. Who was he under the cloak? Would he soon learn? Perhaps he would. Either way, it was unlikely his blade would be drawn at this juncture.

Jonathon took another gulp; his ale was half-full now. He felt a bit light-headed. Careful, now. No need to get sloshed today.

[Vizyous Aconitum]

"Good to meet you." Vizyous nodded in return to Jonathon, his attention returning blankly to his surroundings as the other man's had. It was a few sips later of his newly refilled cup that the simple question was asked to both himself and Rovan, however as Jonathon had thought, it wasn't a simple question at all. "I do odd jobs with a bit of selling on the side." It wasn't a complete lie, as he had done that in the past. His income right now was non-existent, though, unless he was lucky and was able to persuade others into giving him gold or a small job. Perhaps it sounded suspicious, but he wasn't exactly worried of their opinion. It wouldn't matter much, anyways; Rovan seemed a proud, important individual, and likely his story would be much more interesting than the Symenestra's small bit of information. The wrapped man approached, causing the Symenestra to feel the first pangs of anxiety at being in such an uncontrolled environment. Perhaps it was from living in the city of illusions, but not having a handle on situations could really get under Vizyous' skin. Jonathon seemed impassive as to whether or not the man joined them, directing the question towards himself and Rovan once again. "Sure," Vizyous replied, although inside feeling a bit unsure about the answer, "if it's fine with Rovan." He sent a teasing smile towards the dark haired man across from him, focusing his attention on him rather than the cloaked stranger. The wrappings on the figure reminded him of the Symenestra's traditional armor-wrapping, rivaling the skill and practice of even the most modest, attentive Symenestra. It made Vizyous worry that perhaps beneath those cloths, was one of his own race... And dealing with his own kind was usually not the most fun of experiences. OOCThis is a friendly reminder that since we now have 4 people in this thread, please make sure that everyone has had their turn before posting. Rovan needed to post after this but didn't get a chance to respond because Abdhul replied first. Please be patient and wait for everyone to reply so that people aren't left behind.

[Abdul ibn Alazari]

The man in black sees that these folk are nice enough, and promptly takes a seat. He sits down next to Jonathan. As he takes his seat, he wonders if any of these men would be trustworthy enough to join in his hunt for vengeance. He seems to notice the look of Vizyous, but accepts it, knowing that he would be much more shocked if he saw his face.
The man continues to nurse his ale through his scarred mouth, his one eye taking in all that is going on around him. He turns to the men around him and asks in a heavy accent, "Greetings. It is good to meet you.". He quickly checks the men's eyes to see if any of them are glass replacements or eyepatched.

[Rovan Dermane]

Dear me, Rovan thought. He wondered what had suddenly drawn all these people to their table, although he was less surprised this time, as he had already seen the other man. They likely had the same reasons as himself - he had also sought someone approachable compared to the close-knit clungs of citizens and drinkers. The rest of the groups in the inn seemed to have enough in their own company. Strangers sought strangers, as was natural. They were probably the most exotic sight to be seen that day in the Rearing Stallion. Confirmation from Vizyous and Rovan was sought as to whether the fourth man was welcome by the table. He eyed the trickster as he was sent a teasing smile, before regarding the omnious stranger. "Mhmhmhm", he snickered impishly. "Ah, why not? The more the merrier." He scratched the bridge of his nose as he took Jonathon into view again. "You asked of our professions? Well, I am but a humble scholar and writer -- trained to perceive the world in a knowledgeable perspective," he said, before opening his palm towards Jonathon, "And yourself?". He asked more out of common courtesy than actual interest, but nonetheless he felt some mutual responsibility in keeping the conversation going.

[Jonathon DuFraine]

Jonathon nodded. "Don't really have a steady job, hmm? Well, that isn't so bad. It wouldn't get boring, anyways..." Jonathon listened to Rovan's words in thought. "Hmm. My father is a scholar. Or at least he calls himself one; he's simply been doing odd jobs for most of his life. Only recently has he put his knowledge to good use; tutoring, you know." Jonathon stopped the small gush of words. The alcohol was starting to make him talkative.

"I'm a hunter. I go out there, kill stuff, and bring it back." Jonathon, in the lull after his words, turned to the new man. "How about you, stranger? Do you have a name, and a profession?" This table seemed to attract rather a lot of strange, and slightly unsavory, characters. Rovan seemed a tad full of himself, but he was the most likable of the three.

Nivil seemed okay, but very distant. He couldn't really tell if he was a decent fellow, but he did seem a bit off; Jonathon guessed he wasn't altogether human, or sick. And the shrouded man, Jonathon knew oh so very little. Just his favorite color. For all Jonathon knew, he could be a monster in disguise.

Well... If Jonathon really thought about it, there were only a few people that would disguise themselves. One, a foreigner who feared persecution, which didn't really synch with Syliras. Two, a criminal, and three, a man being hunted by other men, perhaps a criminal or a businessman. Whichever it was, Jonathon hoped to find out.

[Abdul ibn Alazari]

The man in black nods. "Your interest is natural. I am a hunter of sorts, you could say. I hunt not for pleasure or bounty, however. I hunt a man who has wronged me."
Abdul wonders if perhaps he has said to much. Maybe these men are friends of Barg the Blind. He cannot know. He can only hope that they are trustworthy. Abdul believes that that Jonathan seems an honest man, but first encounters can be decieving. As for the other two, he never liked bookish types, and the other seemed rather... off... and defintely an unsavory sort.
"My name is Abdul. I will not tell you my full name, for fear the man will know of me. I hail from the desert, but my dear departed parents settled hear long ago." With this statement, the man shudders, though it is not obvious if it is with anger, sadness, or some other unknown emotion.
"I am also a duelist of some skill, a skill I have learned by neccessity in my hunt."
With this, Abdul falls again into silence.

[Vizyous Aconitum]

The conversation was focused more on Abdul, his story interesting to Vizyous however the Symenestra was still uncomfortable about all of the company around him. "I lack much fighting skill." Vizyous idly commented after the wrapped man had finished, taking a sip of his alcohol in afterthought. That definitely had to be the last, he realized, as the world started to get a slight blur to it. He hadn't been lying about being a lightweight. He didn't touch upon Abdul's mention of being wronged, not wanting to offend or bring up worse memories than he'd already spoke of. It wasn't that the man's story would be uninteresting, he just knew that the past could hurt far more than even the worst flesh wound. "But I guess me and Rovan will learn to fend ourselves with sticks and stones when the time comes that words don't suffice..." A smile of jest was on his lips, his gaze glancing towards the dark scholar.

[Rovan Dermane]

"Oh, but words should not be underestimated," Rovan said, raising his finger sagely. He knew the truth in his inabilities to fight physically. He often found that others could wrongly assume a talker to be harmless, which one could benefit from. Seeming less dangerous made others trust you that much easier. He turned his attention to the black-wrapped man as well. "'Tis a long path, traveling from the deserts to Syliras. Who is this man, to have you undergo such a far journey?" Rovan asked curiously. He tilted his head slightly, as if to gain a better angle on Abdul's concealed face.