Old Friends, New Dirt (Goss Pls)

[Seamus Okibbon]

Season of Spring, 8th day, 510AV, Dusk

Seamus guided his mount Ruby along the narrow streets he knew well in his youth. The dirty, cracked cobbles, the grey stone of the houses, the bustling storefronts, all these things were familiar but, after five years away, somewhat distant in his memories. He rounded a corner and there it was, the "Rearing Stallion".

He and his brothers frequented this tavern often when he lived in Syliras. The memories were strong here, and it burned his heart to imagine his brothers alive, sharing a pitcher of ale and singing drinking songs at the top of their lungs. But Seamus needed a drink, and this was the best place for it. He tied Ruby to a post to the right of the red hanging sign, and pushed his way through the ancient wooden doors.

It was early in the evening still, and the tavern had yet to fill with its more rowdy crowd of miscreants and off duty soldiers. The owner, Kevith Aargon, tended bar behind the long wooden counter, passing out flagons of ale faster than seemed possible for a one armed man. The combination of the dim light and the wooden furniture made for a soft, warm atmosphere, and Seamus allowed himself to relax as he approached the bar.

Seamus reached into his coin purse, pulled 4 silver mizas, and slid them across the bar as he took a seat on a well-worn wooden stool. Aargon was now leaning across the bar, talking with a heavyset, bearded man who was smiling at whatever the brewmaster had to say to him. Aargon finished his story with a sputter of laughter, and the big man shared in the joke with a hearty laugh which filled the almost empty tavern. As their laughter died down, Seamus cleared his throat to gain the barkeeps attention. Aargon chuckled a word or two to his friend, and came down to where Seamus was sitting, still chuckling.

"Aye, good lad, what will it be?" He asked through a childish grin. Many of his teeth were missing. He must have lost them in his service to the Knights.

"A gallon of your Dark."

"One gallon of dark! Starting early, are we?" Seamus did not respond; he was not one for small talk. The barkeep shrugged, and turned to fetch Seamus' ale. As Seamus waited, he felt someone's gaze upon him, and turned to see who it was. The man who Aargon had been sharing a joke with was now staring at Seamus with a curious look on his face. All signs of jovialty had escaped his face and he had gone pale. Seamus looked away, hoping the man would do the same.

Aargon turned with a sloshing gallon of ale and pushed it on the counter towards Seamus.

"Four silvers, sir." Seamus pushed the mizas on the counter closer to the barkeep and took up the flagon with both his hands, drawing a long drink and savoring the rich, chocolaty taste. He had not had fine ale like this since -

The man was still staring at him. He could feel the stare heavy upon him, and the hairs at the nape of his neck stood on end. Seamus was angry now, and slammed the flagon down on the counter with a loud THUD as he turned to the man who was ruining his drink.

"What? Do I know you? Can I help you? What in the name of the gods do you want?"

The man looked taken aback and his jaw dropped, but within an instant he was smiling and howling laughter. This only angered Seamus further. The man managed to regain his composure somewhat and spoke.

"It is you! Seamus Okibbon! Don't you recognise me? It's your guardian angel, Chisels!" The man threw back his head and laughed again, this time harder.

"Chi-Chisels?" Seamus stuttered, and almost fell off his chair with shock. This was Uncle "Chisels" the carpenter, his father's best friend and his family's protector ever since Patrick Okibbon died of the plague. This was Chisels, the man who loved only one thing more than drink: women. This was Chisels, and Seamus couldn't imagine a man who he'd be happier to see.

"Seamus, my boy! We all took you for dead! What has it been, three years? Four?"

"Five...five years." Seamus was still in shock, but he managed to drag himself and his drink over to the stool next to Chisels. Chisels laughed again and threw his massive arms around Seamus, nearly crushing him. The most Seamus could manage was a pat on the broad back of the man who smelt of wood dust and wine. Aargon looked on with an expression of amusement and wonder. Chisels released him and Seamus slumped into his seat.

"Where have you been, lad? Where in all the levels of hell have you been?"

"Travelling. Searching for the men - " Seamus choked, " the men who killed my brothers."

All the mirth was drained from Chisels' face, and he gave Seamus' shoulder a squeeze. "Aye. Your brothers. I am truly sorry, Seamus. I would have taken you in had you stayed in the city. What made you leave?"

"Fear, I suppose. I imagined they would come for me in the night, to finish off the job, so I packed a bag and ran."

"And now you've returned. Well, welcome home!" The laughter had returned to Chisels' voice, and the two men clinked tankards and took long drinks of their fine ales. "And from the look of ye, you'll be in need of some work, no?"

[Gossamer]

The atmosphere in the tavern was boisterous, even for the early hour. Chisels was among people he knew well and the older man's welcome, as enthusiastic as it was, was enough that the crowd as a whole seemed to accept Seamus readily. He was offered a seat, clasped on the back, and the noise and ruckus of the early evening continued on around him. There was a relaxed atmosphere to the tavern, which sometimes was unusual. People liked to grumble and the best place to do it was in the Rearing Stallion. If they had disputes to settled, often they were settled here with fists or words. But, none of that seemed present tonight.

in fact, at Chisels mention of a job, one of the men further down the bar leaned back and said "Hey Chisel, the Widows are looking for a new handyman. Their old one up and married a knights daughter and came into money. He don't have to work now. You should see if the lad there is interested. It's a good paying job even if it means your pretty much at their mercy all hours of the night and day." Barthum said. Even Seamus recognized him. He owned a thriving firewood business - having woodcutters that went out and cut timber at all hours and delivered it to businesses like the bakery, the blacksmith, and numerous other private residences for a premium fee.

More ale was delivered.

The conversation ebbed and flowed around the crowd, but one person in particular was more than a little curious about the new comer. He wouldn't have recognized the man if Chisel hadn't said something. But the name rang a bell... the name and a contract that was unfinished. So from the corner, the man stared, interested, but unwilling to join the conversation.

[Gossamer]

OOC NOTE: I am unsubscribing to this thread. Please let me know if you wish to continue with this thread, but do not ask me for new moderation or a different DS experience.