Completed [The Rearing Stallion]Short Tales, not Tall

[Crypt]

45th of Fall, 512 AV - The 21st bell “... And so, that was how I defeated a band of glassbeaks out in the Sea of Grass, all by myself. Ain't that amazing?” Crypt tossed back a dram of the ale he was holding all the while through his storytelling, savouring the sweet aroma and the nectar-like brew as it flowed down his throat. Slamming down the mug, he motioned for one of the barmaids to refill his mug, winking at her, shouting to a burly, bearded man with a twinkle in his eye as he did so. “My compliments to you, good sir, your ale is excellent!” Said brewmaster of the Rearing Stallion, Kevith Aargon, gave him a broad grin and a rudimentary salute, before turning back. Crypt's audience spoke freely with each other, boisterous and unrestrained. Some threw a few coins over to Crypt, who deftly grasped the mizas and pocketed them in one swift motion, graceful and elegant, and nodded his thanks. Others gave extravagant toasts to Crypt, their imaginations fired up by the tale of Cyphrus. It was a cold night, and sitting by the fire was the perfect cure to take the chill out of their bones. Crypt reclined in his simple wooden chair, taking a smaller sip of his ale before resuming his rather successful first attempt at being a storytelling bard. “Now, what do you want to listen to, friends?” Scattered shouts emerged from his audience, voicing out all manner of words. Crypt struggled not to laugh at one particular drunkard's request (“Tell us about the time ah wet me pantsies when ah was in Sunberth, mate!”) and listened silently, a ever-growing smile on his countenance. After a few moments, Crypt motioned for silence, and the audience quietened down. A little. “There was a time in Taldera, 'midst the snow-capped forests and the frozen streams. It was Fall then, and I was making my way to Avanthal, land of Winter. O! It was beautiful indeed. Close your eyes, men and women, and dream of the gates built of icestone; shining from within. See you now the Lights of the Stormgems? Watch them burning eternal everywhere in the Ice City. Then gaze you up high - to the Night Sky, to the Stars, and watch Morwen's Lights dance there! Aye, marvel at the iridescence, the radiant shapes of shifting colours, the kaleidoscope eternal, the Regal symphony of divine Morwen. Gaze there a while, friends, but if you can, tear yourselves away from the heavens set aflame; from Her Lights! And smell the pinesmell of Northern Taldera's forests, for it was There I fought with a dire bear, strong and dark, taller than me by many a head.” And thus did Crypt weave his tale to his enraptured audience.

[Elzifar]

45th of Fall, 512 AV - The 21st bell A gust of air blew through the door of the tavern as he walked in. He kept his hood up, still too cold to relax. Elzifar glanced side to side taking in his new surroundings. There was a group of drunkards off to one side busily chattering about who knows what. A storyteller and his audience off to the other shouting out the stories they wanted to hear next. Elzifar made his way to the bar and took a seat. Well, he thought to himself, at least it isnt cold in here. "What'll it be for ya?" the barkeep asked, a friendly smile across his face. "Ale, please," he said quietly, tossing the man the money. He came back shortly and set the mug down in front of him. He sipped slowly, savoring the taste. Then something the storyteller said caught his attention “There was a time in Taldera, 'midst the snow-capped forests and the frozen streams. It was Fall then, and I was making my way..." Taldera. Elzifar turned, gazing from under his cowl at the man who was speaking. He didn't look like much to Elzifar. They would stand almost eye to eye, and he was a little more built. But the man was human, so he was confident he had the man beat in strength. But he seemed friendly enough. As he spoke he happened to glance Elzifars way. Their eyes locked. Black...interesting... Elzifar took another sip of his Ale and moved closer to listen to his tale.

[Crypt]

Crypt paused for a moment for dramatic effect; it was amusing to see a crowd of people waiting anxiously (and eagerly) for him to continue his story. Still, it earned him some serious coin, and so it was worth it. His eyes roamed over the people gathered around him, observing the facial expressions of his audience, before he locked eyes with a man of similar stature and with slit pupils. He grinned and raised his ever-full mug of ale up to him slightly, and took another sip before continuing his tale. “To answer your question, my audience, no, I didn't die. Would I still be here if that dire bear ripped my head off and had my guts for garters?” His attempt at some humor broke the tension, and many chuckled or laughed; the jolly atmosphere returned to their little corner by the fireplace, and drinks flowed freely again. Crypt smirked. “No, I barely dodged his slash. Did a fair number on me, too. Here's the very scar he gave me. Take a good, long look, for it took me weeks to heal with a healer helping me out.” Crypt stood up, taking off his grey shirt to reveal a muscular torso, tattooed all over with lines from different languages, interlacing with each other; not as sculptured as a bodybuilder's body would be, but still enough to put a blush on some women's faces and made the others look rather... interested. One inadvertedly licked her lips before moving closer. But the main highlight of the show was the scar that stretched diagonally across his chest, from his left shoulder to the right side of his body, near his waist. It was already faded, but the scar tissue remained, a thick dark line against the tanned backdrop of his skin. He turned around slowly to let everyone see the scar, then put his shirt back on and sat down on his wooden stool, draining his mug of ale, slamming it down on a table and signalling for it to be refilled. “After I barely dodged his iron-hard claws, after receiving this injury,” Crypt gestured to his chest. “I used my longsword and threw it right into his face. I wasn't thinking right then; throwing away your weapon isn't a good idea. It's risky, very dangerous too; if you don't kill all of your opponents you're going to be defenceless. Unless of course, you have more.” Crypt gave the pretty barmaid a wink as she poured more of that nectarous ale, before turning his attention back to his tale. “I was enhancing my arm muscles then, and so the blade sunk into his head. Not all the way, but enough to ensure his death. He fell back as I struggled to stand; the injuries he had given me were starting to take its toll. I could already smell the thick scent of his blood, its aroma wafting over to me from where it had flowed from his head. I don't remember much though. After I killed him I fainted, wearied beyond measure and a little weak from loss of blood.” “I know not how long I slept, but when I awoke, I was in the arms of a beautiful, ravishing Konti lady who was singing to me like she would to her child. One of the best ways to wake up, eh? Aye, but still rather embarrassing for a warrior like me.” Loud laughter and snatches of conversations filled with envy equally contributed to the enjoyable atmosphere of the tavern. “She was with a group of people, all travelling to the Spires. Wonderful place there, I've heard, but if you harm one of their special butterflies, one of them told me, it won't be good. They found me next to the bear, and she healed me. They couldn't just leave me there and prevent me from sharing all those stories to you all this night, for the healer - Cyndelia - had sworn a vow to heal all injured. And that's about it, ladies and gentlemen. She healed me, we had some fun times together, and then we separated to go our ways; Cyndelia to the Spires, and I to Avanthal. On the way there, I met a fascinating female Zith - I do have some luck with the ladies, have I not?” Laughter greeted his last sentence, the men nodding in agreement. “But that's another story for another night. Thank you all for being such a wonderful audience, and have a good night.” Crypt stood up and bowed before them. And then coins rained down on him; they were mostly copper mizas, but there was a silver miza here and there. Crypt caught what he could and picked up the rest from the floor of the tavern, placing them in his moneypouch. A bearded man, with a blonde woman standing by his side, threw him a gold miza, saying a few words as he did so. “You've done well, kid, me and my girl damn well enjoyed your stories. Take this, and there'll be more if you tell more tales here and if I'm there.” Crypt nodded his thanks. The couple walked out of the tavern, the man tossing another coin to the barmaid nearby. Crypt walked over to the table the man that had caught his attention earlier sat at, almost collapsing into a seat. He turned to the curious figure. “So, what's your name, where are you from and what's with those eyes of yours?”

[Elzifar]

"You ask many questions storyteller," he answered, sipping his Ale some more. He set down his mug and turned to face the man. "Common courtesy is to introduce ones self before asking for the introduction of another. My name is Yazhannelzifar of Taldera. Elzifar for short. And i could ask the same thing about your own eyes my friend. My eyes are the result of a birth defect." He lied. He knows the Dhani are a misunderstood and mistrusted race. It would be bad to publicize his origins. "But something tells me yours are not so easily explainable." Elzifar pulled back his hood, revealing his short, copper hair. He motioned to one of the waitresses as he finished his Ale. "A refill please m'lady," he said smoothly. "Sure thing dear," she replied kindly, though she was obviously nervous around him. As she left them Elzifar turned back to the other man. "Ssso then, now for your introduction."

[Crypt]

“My apologies, for I am slightly inebriated from all the ale I have consumed earlier.” Crypt grinned as he lifted his ale and took a sip, enjoying the warm feeling of the ale flowing down his throat. His one black eye, with no distinction between sclera, iris or pupil, seemingly stared at everywhere; it appeared as if light itself was slowly being sucked inside it. Curious. His slit eyes and that slight hissing sound he made when pronouncing 'S' reminds me of a snake. I do not sense any deception, though that may be due to my inexperience. Still, I'll accept his explanation for now. “My name is Crypt, son of Insatem. I am born of Drykas female from the Diamond Clan, and Human male from this very place. As you may have already guessed from my earlier tales, I come from Cyphrus, far south of Syliras. It is a beautiful place, the Sea of Grass, but dangerous too. I lived there for nigh on eighteen years before departing.” Crypt took another swig of his ale before continuing. “My left eye, you ask? I was born with two normal eyes, like my right, but it was evident as I grew that this eye of mine was changing. I knew not why it was doing so; the healers from the Opal clan said I was perfectly fine, but my father knew, though he would not tell us. But the process was slow - By my seventeenth birthday my eye was but a shade of light grey. It was only after I came back to my pavilion, which was after I ran away into the deepest parts of the Sea of Grass, that it turned totally black. Not even the brightest of lights is reflected in this eye of mine; only Morwen's Lights, the Moonlight and the Starlight. Somehow the process was accelerated, but how? I know not.” Crypt shifted in his seat, turning slightly as he watched a mandolin player strumming his instrument while singing about a war. “What of you, Elzifar? Why have you travelled so far here to fair and black Syliras?”

[Elzifar]

"Business mostly," He said. Looking over again at Crypt, a halfhearted smile appeared on his face. "Why are you so inquisitive storyteller? What difference is it to you if I am here for work or pleasure?" His facial expression showed light-heartedness in his question, but the look in his eyes was obviously guarded and even a little suspicious. He eyed Crypt more intently now, his eyes lingering on the strange tattoos all over him. Elzifar didn't care too much for Crypts answer. "The bears of Taldera rarely miss their mark." He spoke quieter now, thinking back on his own expiriences with them. "You must be either very skilled, or very lucky." He drank some more, holding in his mouth before swallowing, savoring the flavor. Dhani taste buds are more developed than humans. I wonder if his drink tastes as great as this. He thought absent mindedly to himself.

[Crypt]

“They call me curious beyond measure, but I say it is merely a thirst for knowledge of all sorts. I love knowing all that I see, hear, smell, taste and feel, and not just physical touch. I seek knowledge, Elzifar, and since everyone has had unique experiences in this very world, well, everyone should have knowledge I know not. But I am not so crude, so uncouth as to take all without giving in return. I will give of the knowledge I have within the myriad corners of my mind in exchange. Does that answer your question, Elzifar?” Crypt swallowed the rest of his ale, slamming the mug down carelessly onto the table. “A little bit of this, a little of that. I will not deny that quite a bit of luck was involved, but my meagre talent in the longsword was rather... helpful. I have met a few in my journey, but none as aggressive and as gargantuan as that monstrous bear.” Crypt fiddled with a silver-rimmed miza. “Be suspicious of me, be on your guard. That is your choice. I have spoken my purposes truly, for I have no need to hide them now.”

[Elzifar]

No reason to hide his purposes....now?? Interesting.. Elzifar took in what Crypt was saying as truth. He had no reason to not believe him. Then a thin smile appeared on his face. Knowlage eh? This man may come in handy after all.. "You seek knowlage? Then knowlage you must have obtained. So tell me then Crypt, Son of Insatem, how are the people of this city. You see, I have not been here long and currently have no residence. What parts of this city should I avoid? More importantly, what people should i not cross?" Elzifar tried hard not to sound too eager to learn the names of his next targets. You should not kill innocent p-people, the voice of the Kelvic girl he met rang through his head. No one should have to die. But if you must kill, k-kill the bad people. Please. Damn that cursed Wolf for making me soft.. He thought. Then turned to face Crypt, awaiting his answer

[Crypt]

Crypt watched Elzifar's face shift slightly, apparently deep in his thoughts, before Elzifar spoke, smiling thinly. “No residence? I'd suggest going to the Traveler's Row to find some temporary accommodations. It's cheap, and the rooms are fine. It's not five minutes from the Main Gates. Just ask around, and you'll be directed there almost immediately. Of course, if it's permanent housing you require, the Housing Authority will be your place. I heard tell of it from a Knight. Ask around, you'll be able to find it.” Crypt pulled out a few more silver mizas and began juggling them, watching the glint of silver as the coins shone in the fire-light. “Never cross the Syliran Knights. They are legion, and there are many that can find you without the slightest bit of effort on their part. Do not aggravate any of them, do not commit any crime. Do not kill someone, unless you can prove that he has done something illegal and worthy of death. The Knights will be Less inclined to punish you severely, but you'll be locked up while they sort things out.” Crypt collected his coins, snatching them one by one and placing them into his pouch. “Other than them, I do not know who else not to cross. They are in almost complete control of this city. They keep the peace, sure, but they will do most anything to keep Syliras safe. Still, be on your guard as much as possible. You never know if the next person you meet might be an insane gentleman.” Crypt's Cheshire-cat smile widened to near-impossible proportions.

[Elzifar]

He was a little dissapointed to hear that Syliras was so stable. But at the same time he was happy he could find a peaceful place. He glanced over at Crypt. He froze. Elzifars off-hand, hidden beneath his cloak, went to his dagger. The smile set him on edge.That smile...somethings not right with him. Maybe if i followed him when he left...No..There would be no need to. He decided that it would be best to keep his dagger at the ready however. Something just didn't feel right to him about this man. He was careful this time not to let his outward features betray his thoughts. Utilizing his skills as an assassin he knew this Drykas would be no match for him. But here, in the middle of a tavern, if worse came worse he was not too confident in his abilities. He finished his Ale. "Thank you, for the information. I believe Ill go have a look at Travelers Row then later."