[Red Diamond Tavern] Troublemakers [Open]

[Fantol]

14th day of Spring, AV 511. The warm fireplace and the broad shadows gave the tavern a cozy atmosphere, in the dusk of the day. He sat by a table alone, edging unintelligiable symbols in its wood with his dagger. He did not try to hide his act - in fact, he made it as obvious as possible. He could feel the disgruntled look from the innkeeper, and could not help but wonder when he would be aggrivated enough to react. He could also see the disdain from some of the other patrons. Perhaps one would try to stop him? Perhaps one would say something to him? Scold him, curse him, throw things at him, lay hands on him? He was ready for anything. He was anxious to be ignored, in fact. He hoped for reactions, any reaction. If nothing happened, he would just have to make it happen somehow. Fantol raised the dagger to his eyes, examinating the blade with his fingers. Though looking absent-minded, it was all a feign. His pupils revealed him as they reached the corner of his eyes, from time to time, searching for someone to choose as a potentional source for activity.

[Darren]

The noise was annoying but bearable to say the least. It really didn't bother Darren too much as he sat at the bar, So he's drawing on the tables. There has been worse tragedies that have gone on in a bar. he thought as he looked lazily at the new guy. He noticed the bar man look irate at the newcomer also. As he cleaned the glasses putting a little extra effort in his work, Darren merely made a somewhat amused expression as he watched him work at it. "So...Phil, I see your a bit peeved about your latest customer" Darren said, "want me to throw him out for you?" The one named Pete took a look at Darren and back at the stranger. Normally he didn't like any type of violence in the quaint bar but he didn't like that the man was causing a ruckus for no apparent reason. He looked back at Darren and give him his approval, "Just be sure you don't do anything crazy now Darren." he said, noting the boy's natural tendencies. "Yea yea, it's just a simple matter nothing to get all excited over" he replied back as he got up. He downed his last mug of milk, as he loosed up and headed for the door. He took a look outside and saw that it was almost time to head to the hold. Sigh alright let's make this a quick one he thought as he strolled over to Fantol. He took a quick look at the symbols and the table and tsk'd. "Yep that's gonna be annoying to put a drink on one day." He muttered, "Alright pal, let's get you to the Warrens. I doubt you want to be camping out at night in Taldera when you can have a house to go to right?" It looked like he was being friendly but hopefully the guy would get the hint that it was time for him to leave. P.S.Love to see that you are enthusiastic about cosmetics but can you possibly put a box around your text? The makeup of what I'm reading on irritates me a bit. P.S.S.Also mind changing the day to the 14th or 16th? Got a thread already that day.

[Fantol]

He did not look up as a voice talked to him. The depth of the voice and the footsteps sounded like it was coming from a strong and self-assured person. Most likely stronger than himself in muscle. He took a few moments, exhaling before answering. "I'm merely decorating these dull tables," he said out in the air, as if trying to explain something very patiently. He kept playing with the dagger, balancing its tip on his index finger. He hid his thrill, as he pretended to be completely distracted by his unproductive doing and oblivious to the threat that Darren posed. He glanced over his shoulder, looking up from the man's well-toned torso to his head. "Is it a crime to be artistic?" he asked, flashing a coy smile as he raised his brows questionly. Then he turned his gaze away from the man again, concealing the bright mix of yellow and green colors in his eyes. As much as he sat there and enjoyed the attention, he would try to avoid getting slammed down in this vurneable position, by not being too teasing. One could easily accelerate conflict at any time, especially one such as himself.

OOCIt's funny you should mention that, I have just found out the trick to make a black frame inside it.
And yes, I don't mind changing the timestamp, as I have barely started writing posts. I can imagine that luxury problem with being such a busy poster.

[Darren]

"Not at all. Well...in any case it looks like i'll have to get rid of this..." Darren replied as he put one hand on the table. He then pushed the table violently away from the man, causing it to tumble away a bit. A few of the remaining bar patrons looked lazily at them, mostly unaffected by the scene. To the people around them it looked as if Darren was going to do another one of his "services" for Phil- violently trying to keep the order. They shrugged and turned back to their drinks as Darren started his prepared speech. "I really don't know how you run things back where ever you might have came from but we expect a bit of moderation here in Avanthal. Allow me to tell you how things run around here. We don't mind a bit of mischief now and again but to do something entirely detrimental isn't something that is accepted too easily around here." He said his arms crossed as he gave the man a set stare. "In any case. That's your welcome to Avanthal and..." he said as he aimed a kick at the man's chair. "I'm officially throwing you out. So, nobody else has to deal with such folly" he said as he moved to grab the man's shirt/coat as he moved to exit the bar.

[Fantol]

Fantol scratched his beard as the man pushed the table away. He looked up at him and pretended to listen when he was given a long speech, something about Avanthal and the do's and do-not's in the city. He looked at the man's hair, mostly perplexed with its color. There were tones of grey in it. Was he an old man? He seemed young and fit, barely a wrinkle in his skin. Perhaps he used magic to keep his flesh as fresh as a child's? Fantol sat and pondered these things, clearly not getting a single word to be stuck in his skull. He expected some sort of physical act to underscore the man's words, but he had no idea when it would come. That was confirmed when the man suddenly kicked to his chair, almost toppling him off it. Fantol waved out his arms to keep his balance, but then he was grapped by his vest, and heaved up with brutality. He felt aggression rise to his head as the man touched him, pulling him towards the exit. "Why the rush? I thought we were getting along so well!" he had to shout, as his body was wrestled out of the chair and towards the door. Halfway there, he gave up the jest and started fighting back physically. He was no match. In his desperate attempts, he finally tried to make a hard stomp on Berus' foot. It might just give him the momentum he needed to get out of the strong man's grip.

[Darren]

Darren rolled his eyes at the man's attempts too annoy him, as he opened the door to the outside cold of Taldera. He turned back to see that the man was trying to make this scene not so civil as he stomped on Berus's foot. He stood there for a bit rather miffed about the assault to Berus, who was minding his own business. And out you go he muttered as he grabbed him by his collar and threw him outside the bar. He slowly regulated his body's networks as he watched Fantol hit a nearby snow ditch. He chuckled as he turned to Berus, the bard has seen that situation first hand plenty of times before. "I'll be outside if you care to join in" Darren replied as he nodded at Berus as he left the inn.

[Berus]

Berus yelped as Fantol stomped on his foot, hopping backwards and spilling his drink all over himself. He spat out a few curses and quite a bit of drink before the pain subsided and he was able to regain his dignity. One look at his now soiled clothing, however, told him that his dignity was long, long gone.

He watched Darren throw Fantol outside the bar and smiled his thanks to Darren. Sure, Fantol had been a decent fellow several days before, but he'd just made a man spill his drink. That was a crime up with which Berus would not put. So, it was with a spring in his step that the little bard followed Darren outside the bar, being sure his lyre was firmly strapped on his back.

Berus made it outside into the frosty air and breathed a sigh of relief; the frosty snow would do well to hide his the new stains on his clothing. His eyes sought and found Fantol's own vibrant green and sent him a hurt look. "Now, Fantol, why did you have to go and do that to your good friend here? My clothes are surely stained forever!"

[Kain Snowsong]

A short ways down the road from the Red Diamond Tavern Kain sat in the snow playing his flute, a small basket at his feet. The night was chilly but nothing he didn't mind. From the tavern Kain heard a ruckus, and as he stopped playing to catch a glimpse of the commotion a man went flying out door. Kain emptied the basket into his pocket and grabbed his cane, making his way toward the tavern. Darren and Berus were standing out front with an unfamiliar citizen laying in the snow before them. "What seems to be the problem cousin?"

[Fantol]

Fantol arose and dusted off his clothes from snow. "Sorry. Seems I missed the right foot," he said to the bard. In the turmoil he had stomped on the wrong foot, and so his attack had betrayed his intent. Berus was merely unfortunate to be there at the wrong time. He glanced to eye Kain as he approached. His pride had taken a blow, but he would not grovel down in the snow and hide from the embarresment. He spat out some snow. "Everything's just fine," he answered sourly to Kain, his gaze tracing to the inn's entrance with eyes reddened of irritation. That buffoon will get his lesson, he promised himself. But there was no reason to ruin the one friendship he had managed to make so far in the city, so he reasoned to spend his efforts on that, rather than taking up revenge.

[Darren]

It felt pretty good to have a wingman for once Darren thought, looking at Berus. He nodded at the bard in approval, maybe this time he would restrain himself in the throwing of Berus for once. He turned and say another Snowsong, he addressed Berus as his cousin. Hmm? Eww... another one? he thought as he looked the man over. He certainly was no Berus. The man is even shorter then the bard! Don't tell me there are even punier men in existence in that hold... Darren thought as he looked quizzically over the new Snowsong. He shivered as the thought of being born as a one of them sent a chill down his spine. He shaked his head as he turned to Berus, still looking a bit disgusted by the thought. Wait he knows this man? he wondered, thinking how the typical looking bard can relate to either of the strange looking new men in the scene. Hmph either way that one has to get his arse out of here he thought as he stepped forward, looking at Fantol. "Everything is not fine, you still have to getout of here. We don't need some idiot to go and make a ruckus in our peaceful town." he said looking at him with a scornful gaze. He took a look at Berus's stained shirt, and gave him a reassuring pat. "It's okay that thing looked pretty old and terrible looking anyway at Berus. Wanna rough this guy up a little, so we can get you a new shirt?" Darren asked almost happily. He looked happily back at the stranger with a smug grin, he wasn't going to make things easy for him. "So care to treat us to a little entertainment? Or would you rather have us make our own?" He asked looking very threatening. Darren then started walking forward a bit, slowly making his way to Fantol. Darren thought he had the advantage in this situation, so he went on to continue aggravating him. His pride taking a turn for the worse as he thought of all the ways to make the new guy's stay in the icy town of Avanthal, in a living hell.