Closed [The Silver Sliver]Drinking but not Drunk[Imass]

[Clyde Sullins]

62 Spring 513 Letting out a sigh, Clyde entered the Silver Sliver, his dog Rye at his heels close behind. Yet again he had dressed as he often did of late. His normal cotton clothes, his wooden staff in hand, and a light hammer tucked into his belt. He had not found much need for the weapon, but had decided to carry one with him, just in case the need arose for it, or a chance came up to practice it. You never knew when it might, and he needed to be ready to train when the moment arose, if he wanted to learn how to use the new weapon. He made his way over to a empty table, facing the bar, and plopped down. As one of the barmaids passed by, he ordered an ale, and waited for it to come. Honestly, he was not sure why he came... Some subconscious desire for comradery, and to be around other people? Most knew him to be a wizard, which tended to keep his table free, and him by himself. Even if they trusted him to a degree, and knew he worked for and with the Stryfe, they still did not want to sit with him. Of course, most people feared what they did not understand, and those that had power. Magic was both something not understood, and something that gave men power beyond others. So it made sense in a way, in a cold logical way, that people would not like mages or want to mingle with them. Yet still he came, to sip at an ale, never getting drunk for fear of what might happen should the inebriation loosen his resolve and his hold on his Magics.

[Imass]

Despite the amount of alcohol he had been drinking, Garonn was still not completely faded. He was still able to talk clearly. He needed more liquor though, another shot to numb the pain. Grabbing the bottle of sour whiskey, he poured himself a glass.

A naked sword laid on the table gleaming; a dagger was shoved into the wooden splinters flickered in the lantern light. Leaning heavily on the chair, he raised his glass up in the air and toasted to himself. Violent thoughts about Murdock entered his mind. The Akalak was trapped in his own life and his only release was alcohol.

Slamming the glass on the table, the Akalak looked across the long table. Making eye contact with another human a staring contest commenced. Neither Human or Akalak would let up. For a whole minute they stared and eventually it turned hostile. Not a word needed to be said but Garonn understood exactly what was happening.

Grabbing the dagger and yanking it out of the table, the knight waved it once and addressed the blurry man, "I don't want no drama. We can keep it peaceful, but only if you can keep yourself humble petcher," Opening his eyes wide and thinking thoughts of murder, the Knight tried to intimidate the man into mental submission with heavy hitting words, "Do me a favor and just draw your weapon, I am ready to die, I don't give a petch," His voice was twisted and hoarse. The conviction he said those words was even frightening to himself. Perhaps the warrior truly meant those words?

oocI did not specify who Garonn is talking too since he is drunk. Feel free to decide that

[Clyde Sullins]

Just as his ale arrived, Clyde noticed something in the room that had not caught his attention until just then. Though now that he had seen it, he wondered how he could have ever not noticed it... Sitting over at another table, was a man even bigger than himself. That alone was odd, as he usually towered over most people by a good half a foot, especially women. But this guy was at least a head taller than himself. Oh, and he was blue. Clyde had to do a double take. Of all the places he expected to find a giant blue man, Ravok was the last one. He himself did not care about race, he had other ways of ranking peoples worth, and funnily enough race did not factor in. Not because he felt it was wrong to discriminate against people for that factor, but instead for a cold logical reasoning. Which could not be said of most people in Ravok, as they tended to be against anyone not human. Another thing that caught his attention, was the huge mans face. He looked like half of it had been burnt off, with a crazy mix of scar tissue and wounds. Something bad had clearly happened to this fellow. He himself had only recently gotten some facial scars removed, which had marred his face, so he did not dwell on the mans predicament. But it did not seem enough to simply drown himself in ale, he also felt a need to shout at a man, and challenged him to a fight to the death. Clyde simply smiled, as the man glared at him, along with several other people sitting with him. He highly doubted that should they fight, it would be a one on one fight. No, more likely it would be four or five on one, against the blue man. Anbd since they were all citizens, and this man clearly looked to be a foreigner, his safety was not assured. Even if he had skill to back it up, that many against him... Deciding to intercede, Clyde stood up, taking his ale with him, and walked across the room to stand in between the man of blue, and the man he had challenged. He gave a glare at the man and his friends, who knew both who he was, and what he was. They did not flinch, but they seemed deterred from the thought of attacking the man, discouraged. Clyde set himself down at the table across from the man in blue, Rye following close behind, to settle beside his chair. Taking a sip of ale, he let out a small grin. "Now surely it could not be as bad as all that. That you would so easily throw away your life. Surely you have something you want to do, before you die. What could have happened, to leave you as such?" "I am Clyde by the way. Clyde Sullins. And you are?"

[Imass]

The knight continued to stare ruthlessly at his opposition. The human man stared back undeterred. The Akalak tried to project as much hate and violence through his gaze as possible, but the man had faith that nothing would happen to him. Drunk and mad, Garonn was not patient enough to understand or have tolerance. Taking a step forward he inspected the man further. Baring his teeth the blurry image of the man's face became clear.

Another Human interposed into the scene. He was lanky, but still shorter than the Akalak. Dull brown hair and striking blue eyes marked this wirey man. He had an aura of confidence and attacked Garonn with an appeal to logic and emotion. It was like he took a dagger and tried to pry all of the Akalak's attention at once. The warrior would not forget his generic friendly human gestures. His mind went alert again and he snapped out of his drunk induced black out episode.

Turning his head back to the man he threatened primarly, his blurry vision had now corrected himself. The Akalak had accused the wrong man in his drunken state of mind, "My apologies good man... I made a mistake... I can see clearly now... please accept a round on my behalf, barkeep please bring this man a drink on my behalf," the Akalak said in a heavy Tukant accent. Waiting for a response was awkward, but eventually a series of people nodded and everyone sat back down. The man accepted the round and nothing else was said.

In Sunberth men would be dead from that aggravation, but no one wanted to pop things off with Ebonstryfe nearby. The Akalak was always followed by two soldiers in public places. There was an Ebonstryfe in plainsman clothing sitting with mace sitting nearby. Outside, maybe Clyde noticed another member posted up with a sword. This was a high risk area, but technically only Garonn knew about it. The Silver Sliver knew too, but they were too brainwashed to question the situation. Garonn knew better, but he was drunk and not one hundred percent coherent.

Akward silence ensued for a whole minute, then suddenly the tavern went back to normal. It was as if they just swept the problem under the rub like a dust bunny. Garonn feel back into his chair, "Fools! GRRR-Ravok" he ignored Clyde. He figured the guy would just leave him alone after that was settled.

[Clyde Sullins]

It was a bit odd, that after all that, the man should suddenly apologize, and offer the man he had threatened a ale. Really, it was odd, who could change their mind so easily? It did not seem to go well with how he had been acting so recently. Perhaps he was simply faking, or perhaps it was all part of some elaborate con between him and the other man, and he had ruined it by interceding. Or at least, such were a few of the ideas that popped into Clyde's head to explain things. As he waited on the mans response, he noticed several people sitting about the bar, with weapons. He glanced at one for a second, and realized he looked vaguely familiar. He was fairly certain he had seen the man in passing before... At the Vitrax? Possibly... Which meant he perhaps worked for the Stryfe, just as in a way Clyde did. Perhaps it was a good thing that he had broken the fight up before it started. If the man was a Stryfe, who knew what he would do if this blue man attacked a Ravokian citizen. Nothing good for the blue man. However, the man never answered his question. Instead, he ignored him. Which proved to both aggravate Clyde, and make him all the more determined to get a answer to his questions. He simply sat for a few moments and took another sip of his ale, while sitting at the table with the blue man. "You know, most would find it rude, to be ignored, and to ask a question only to not have it answered. I mean, I did tell you who I am, the least you could do is tell me yours." "Do you perhaps not want to tell the tale, of what happened to you that was so horrible? Prefer to suffer in silence, thinking you are the only one to ever have been wronged or treated ill. I suppose that is one way to go. But I still would like to hear the story. Does it have any connection, to why you are blue?"

[Imass]

Sipping on his beverage the Akalak hoped that the gangly man would leave him alone. This proved to be a vein thought for the man was undettered. The man had no woes in talking to Garonn at all. This slightly annoyed the drunk, because he wanted to drink in peace. For some reason he did not like the vibe of this man; the way he spoke was off for some reason. In the eyes of the drunk man, it was almost as if the man was trying to impose a conversation on him by trying to accuse him of being rude. The Knight had no words for that and remained silent.

The man did not let up though. He barraged the drunk with a flurry of hard hitting questions. It was like he was digging into Garonn past without any inhebition. The lankster asked about his blue skin and made assumptions about his past. The Knight didn't like him, but he would challenge him.

"Do you even have the right to even question me human?" the Akalak chuckled, "Just because I wear my past on my face doesn't mean you have the right to question me. Do you claim to have a monopoly on force? You call me rude, but I do not suscribe to your culture. I find it rude that you sit at my table without asking me. You obviously don't suscribe to what I believe in, so why should I try to make an appeal to you when you have nothing to offer me."

The Knight paused for a second and laughed out loud at the situation. This whole entire scene reminded of his first conflict with Wrenmae. It all started in a bar just like this one. It all started with the same dagger-like questions. He is probally a petching magician. Those pyschopaths have no social barriers

"Your a magician. I can feel it in my bones!" Garonn chuckled.

[Clyde Sullins]

The blue man, who still had yet to name himself even though Clyde had said his name, was sadly mistaken in thinking Clyde would let it be. He did not often take an interest in another person, but when he did, he did not easily let go until he had gotten what he seeked. As the man finally did answer, a small smile came across his lips. Perhaps inadvertantly, but the man had indeed confirmed a fact of which Clyde had been asking. Often you could say more, by what you did not say. And often things you said which were not meant to mean anything, could actually hold a lot of hidden meaning. For instance, by calling Clyde human in the way he had, he was clearly saying he himself was not human. Which ruled out some odd aesthetic change or mutation. He was indeed another race besides that of human. But, the only race Clyde knew of that was blue, was the Isur. And Isur were tiny. This man however, was even bigger than Clyde. So either he was some freakishly overgrown Isur, or he was yet another race of which Clyde knew not. The blue man likely had not meant to say anything of use to Clyde, but with a observant mind, and a small bit of logic applied, one could puzzle out quite a bit even from such offhand statements. "Nothing to offer? Why, surely it is you who is judging without knowing. I may not look it, but I am a veritable mine of usefulness. I likely am more useful even than you. One should not assume just by looking at the cover of a book, that the contents of that book are of no importance or use." As the blue man said that Clyde was a magician, Clyde just stared back. Likely it if had been anywhere but in Ravok were his abilities were well known, he would have lashed out, possibly even struck the man dead once they were alone, for fear of him spreading such knowledge. In most places, it was not good to be known as a mage. But Clyde was at home, in Ravok, were his magic was not only accepted, at least to a degree, but he was also well known for his skills. So he did not react as such, to hearing the mans words. "Magician? I prefer the term Mage. When I think of a magician, I usually think of a little street performer, showing pretend tricks and magics of no real power. That certainly is not what I am. A Wizard, or a Mage, now that is more up my alley." "But you say that like it is a bad thing. Were you once wronged by a Mage? To be honest, so have I been, several time in the past. I cannot blame you for not liking most Mages. Let me tell you a secret. I find I don't like most Mages either. Of course, I am not most Mages." Taking another sip of his ale, Clyde looked over at the man. "So, are you finally going to tell me your name, my Blue Man?"

[Imass]

Garonn sat motionless as Clyde began to talk. He squeezed the dagger in his hand as hard as he possibly could. The cold, hard steel in his palm was somehow reassuring in this situation. Forgetting everything around him, the knight just looked at the gangly man as he talked.

The Akalak projected annoyance and skepticim through his eyes at the so called "mage". Drunk and not in a good state of mind, the knight didn't truely understand Clyde's aim. To Garonn he just sounded like the rest of the people who had pissed on Imass' face since joining the knights. He was just another motherpetcher making assumptions. Just another motherpetcher trying to impose the threat of force. Garonn just wanted to shove his cock in the man's mouth so that he would stop his bull shit. Suddenly, the drunkard broke his stare and laughed. Nothing that Clyde said triggered the laugh, but Garonn just realized his own hypocrisy in the thoughts he was having.

"I am known as Garonn to my enemies, but that is no secret," the Knight said after slamming the dagger tip first into the table. He did not let go of the weapon as he stared into Clyde's eyes.

"Magician. Mage. Wizard," Garonn said half laughing in a Tukant sounding accent, "They are all the same to me. Every single petching one. All magicians want is a monopoly on resources and power... and all mages lie. So why would you be any different? You come over to my table and act like you know ME! I already can tell what your all about, but do you know what I am all about?"

[Clyde Sullins]

Clyde noticed the man clenching his dagger, but made no move to do anything about it. He often did a similar movement with his own staff, as he felt the familiar texture was calming, and pleasant. For this man, apparently his dagger served a similar purpose. Besides, he doubted this man would attempt to kill him in the middle of a bar, with so many watching, not to mention Stryfe. And even without those, he had his magic to fall back on. So skilled with Reimancy was he, he could produce res in prodigious amounts, more or less instantly, and with little effort. So if he had to, he could attack in response, before the man had time to cross the table and attack him. Or at least, he was fairly certain he could. Clyde had not exactly been staring the man down. He blinked, and had a neutral if not somewhat happy expression on his face. So was not trying really to intimidate the man in that manner, or to contest him in some manly arena. But the other man for awhile at least seemed to be attempting to do just that. Until he broke his gaze, and began to laugh. Clyde listened to his words, noticing a point... He said he was known as Garonn to his enemies... But... "So you are Garonn, at least to your enemies? But what of your allies, or even people that are neutral to you? What do they know you as? The same, or as another name? I would not say we are enemies. If anything, we are neutral to one another." Clyde smiled as the man made a small rant about mages, and shook his head a fraction to the left and right. "Perhaps most mages. But as I already have said, I am not most mages. Those common rabble are truly nothing but hungry rats nipping at the heels of others, thinking that they are so grand by the small things they can do. But in the end they are rats, and so easily squashed by anyone with a small bit of real power and force." "You also make more assumptions. I do not lie, have I spoken anything false to you yet? Perhaps petty magicians need to lie, but when you have true strength, lying is no longer necessary. Instead, the truth of your words carries all the weight you need, and requires no deceit to get to the end you desire." "And I never once said I know you, though I would not mind getting to know you. Which was my goal, in coming over. You will also soon realize, that those who actually do have power, have no need to squabble and scratch for more, instead it comes to them willingly."

[Imass]

Garonn listened in silence as Clyde spoke and spoke. The main point that the Akalak took from the mage's words were that he wanted to befriend him. He began by talking about neutral people, allies, and enemies. He even made the point to reaffirmed that he was neutral to him. The face-scorched warrior was drinking, so understanding why Clyde was trying to befriend him was not possible. The Knight just got a terrible vibe from this skinny mage; Clyde just sat there and claimed that that he had power and he reaffirmed that he was no liar, because of his power. He was beginning sounding just like all the other mages he had met in his life. Garonn remained unconvinced, but he could not deny Clyde's confidence and seemingly tolerance of his face.

"Men are men and women are women. Mages are mages...and words are wind," Garonn said as he stared at Clyde. One of his pupils was dilated and the other was closed, making him look particularly strange. The emotion coming out of his throaty, tukant accent was harsh and bitter, "You throw power and truth around like they are mere words. You better tell me what that means because I am petching confused right now. Are you always busting your ass with something to prove? You act like your words are impressing me into being your friend. Then you brag about having power and truth like it is good to be a mage. A truthful and powerful man does not just talk about it. All that matters is that HE knows it in his heart and shows it through his actions..."