Flashback Blood on the rocks (Trynne)

Spoiling for a fight, he finds one. Surprise, surprise.

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A lawless town of anarchists, built on the ruins of an ancient mining city. [Lore]

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Blood on the rocks (Trynne)

Postby Reed on May 18th, 2020, 6:45 am

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Date: 8th of Winter, 517 A.V.


The air was unseasonably warm for this time of year. A product of Morowen’s disappearance from a year before. At a time when everyone should be wearing as many filthy layers as they could get their hands on, those that could get away with it went topless. Others who were more venerable wore the lightest fabric they could get their hands on and packed light for the day. Reed for one was wearing nothing but a loin cloth and a leather collar around his neck as he headed towards the inner city from the docks. He’d hoped to find some respite down by the ocean but there was no such luck for him. Others had the same idea far earlier than him. They huddled together in a mass by the shore and blocked any gentle breeze that might be coming from the water.

He could have tried to get a position somewhere along the beach, but after one look at the crowd, he’d turned back. There was no way he was going to waste his day jostling past all of those people. Besides, he could smell them all they way up to the docks. Not that he smelled much better, but at least he wasn’t covered in filth like half of them. So he decided he’d go for a drink, then see if anyone wanted to go a round or two while he killed time. He had a fight tonight so he was particularly keen on getting some practice in.

Naturally, he chose to go to the Simpering Seacow. He liked to think it was because he was a well known regular there, but the truth was that it was the only safe place for him to get a drink before a fight. It was blessedly close to his master’s territory, and the man had strong ties to the proprietors of this establishment that Reed didn’t quite understand. They kept his back free of shivs though, which was good enough for him.

Walking into the open air cafe, he nodded to Trayto who in turn gave him his peculiar three arm salute. Non-plussed, Reed stared at him until the Eypharian guided him to a small alcove and set a mug of ale in front of him. “Thanks” Reed said, swiftly gulping the ale down before setting it down on the edge of the table. He looked casually around at the other tables that surrounded the outside of the shop but he didn’t see anyone he recognized. Not anyone he was really familiar with anyways.

Raising his hand, a waitress swooped in, taking the empty and placing a new mug in front of him. It reminded him why it was good to stay somewhere familiar, though his master did warn him about hanging around the same spot too many days in a row. At first he had been confused at how much attention people apparently paid to a slave fighter, but when Rocco explained to him the money involved, he started to get a better picture of things. Rocco was one of his master’s thugs and the closest thing he’d ever had a friend. He’d disappeared a few years ago, and Reed thought about that man often.

After he drained the mug, he set it down with some coins and went off to see if he couldn’t find some trouble. The day was still young and he needed to vent now that he had gotten some juice in him. He decided to start by walking down the alley running behind the Mute Maiden.
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Reed
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