• PM To Join • Free drinks!

[Tristan Venora]

27 Ymiden, Arc 716

Tristan Venora had a problem that only nobles and a select few commoners ever suffered from and that most people wouldn’t even consider a real problem: He had too much money. Fortunately that was a problem that could be taken care of easily – well, relatively.

Originally he had wanted to buy himself a slave because he had always envied his cousin Alistair his slave, but then it had occurred to him that didn’t have anywhere to put the slave. There was only one bed in his apartment, and none of the slaves that had been for sale at the slave market had been attractive enough that he wanted to share it with them.

He had already bought everything that was in fashion this season (apart from a corset because he didn’t have the body or the feminine inclinations for it), and he had no interest in horses, boats and similar rich people toys. Besides, he didn’t have anywhere to put a horse either.

In the end he had decided to do something that other people would benefit from because he was such a selfless and noble man who always put others before himself. That was why he currently stood on a chair in front of the bar of the Blacksmith Arms, his favorite tavern.

He wore a yellow shirt because somebody had decided that yellow was the color of the season and black pants because he didn’t want to look like a canary despite his interest in the newest fashion trends. In his right hand he held a small bag full of silver and copper nels that he shook vigorously so that he would get the attention of everybody in the tavern.

“I have at least the equivalent of twenty golden nels in here!” he announced and shook his bag some more so that everybody would be able to hear that most wonderful sound. “I’ll buy everybody who wants one a drink tonight or even two or three until I’ve run out of money.”

Having that said, he jumped off his chair and tossed the bag towards the bartender before he sat down and ordered a mug for himself because he didn’t want to be the only one who didn’t drink.

[Oscar Pyth]

A chorus of approving voices rose through the establishment. Among these was Oscar. Free anything was hardly something he turned down. As such he ordered himself a mug of cider on the stranger’s money and leaned back in his chair in his usual spot. Interesting. He was either drunk already or possessed considerable liquid assets. Maybe both. Only question for the latter was, merchant or nobility? Not that either particularly mattered to a man like Oscar. He smirked as he noted a few individuals fawning over the man, no doubt hoping for additional generosity. Some people. Oscar meanwhile lifted his fresh mug as the man sat down at his table across from Oscar’s table in the middle of the tavern.

“My thanks, sir for your generosity. Allow me to offer courtesy of my own. Care to take a seat? Maybe a have a game or two? Also, don’t bother with the ale, rather poor here. The cider and mead is excellent however.” Oscar noted.

The man looked rather bereft of hardship to Oscar’s eyes. Not rough like most of the folks that frequented the Blacksmiths Arms. His bright blue eyes were captivating to the sorcerer, not a hair upon his chin. A beautiful man, as unimposing as Oscar himself though Oscar had a good few inches on him by his estimate. Oscar swept one of his bangs from his own face and curled his lips up into a smirk. Color him intrigued it seemed. What drove a man to simply buy drinks for every hard luck Tom and Sally sob story in the place?

He pushed at the chairleg of the chair opposite him with the toe of his boot, the thing screeching slightly against the wooden floor as it was pushed out. The Seeker found his curiosity getting the better of him. As ever he supposed. Curiosity was a useful trait in a sorcerer; however it was also potentially dangerous. Looks could be deceiving. Just because something was pretty, didn’t mean it wasn’t lethal. As was the case with almost anything poisonous in this world. He kept his posture easy and calm, relaxed in this place.

“The names Oscar Pyth, to whom do I find myself thanking for this rather fine mug of cider, sir?” Oscar inquired as he sipped at his drink.

It was a crisp and cool liquid. Beer and the like had never agreed with him. Wine was also not his drink of choice. Cider however, while a step down from say rum or vodka, it was still appealing to him. He took a deeper drink from the mug, used to his alcohol before setting it down with a thunk on the table. He wiped his lips with the back of his hand. The young man scratched his chin absently. It had been a long day. Too much ensorcellment at the workshop. Physically he was positively exhausted.

[Vakhanor]

"Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!" drunken roars filled the tavern as a line of burly men sat face to face trying to force the other's hand to the table. Once or twice every season the Blacksmith Arms would hold an arm wrestling match, advertised for the finest brawlers in the city. Foolish enough to give it a go Vakhanor had paid the 3SN entry fee and was sat hand in hand, trying to push back the weight of a man slightly younger than himself named Quin, he was a well built bloke who said he worked as a stone mason.

Muscles tensed against one another, Quin was giving Vakhanor a run for his money. Back and forth the two had been going at it for the last two bits trying to pin one another. They'd both gotten close at least once before the other pushed back, how long could they last? Bookies loomed over the display with excitement and started rushing in the bets. It was four to three with the older man, Vakhanor as the underdog.

Crack, the loud thud of knuckles smacked against wood and Vakhanor cheered, he'd finally managed to win something. "Good going mate!" he cheered with a beaming smile, when a voice suddenly called across the tavern from the bar. Free drinks no less? The smith couldn't pass it up.

"WHAAEEEY!!!" he bellowed along with the tavern patrons who had started rushing up to the bar to get in line for a drink, and Vakhanor among them. He wasn't about to pass up something for free, even if it wasn't going to be alcohol. He had already spent a ton of money and smithing wasn't getting any easier.

Adamant to thank the man paying Vakhanor quickly ordered a Moukou so he'd sleep better that night ready for the next day and wandered up to the two men more fragile looking than himself. Looked like he'd be in the company of Beauty and the Scholar "Now this is Andaris hospitality!" he yelled to the room with a large smile and they all cheered for the stranger again. Settling himself next to grey robes, only a few stools away from the rich pretty boy Vakh bowed his head politely to the two "Cheers for the drink," he said, watching Tristan with a raised brow.

"Oi, you lot! Get off, leave the poor bloke alone or I'll get the walrus on ya!" he threatened. The barman's daughter or more commonly known as by the men of the bar as the walrus for her vicious temper and thick frame, often went around scolding the men of the pub threatening to whine their ear out about why they should be better people. Most of the tavern ignored her, but as it went Vakhanor was on okay terms with the woman. She had never been unkind to him, nor yelled at him other than the time he got together with Rhea after causing a ruckus six years ago. A few of the patrons backed away in fear of the Walrus's wrath, however unfortunately for the pretty boy there were one or two more persistent gits Vakh couldn't rid of without having to resort to violence, which albeit being thankful he was not in the mood for.

[Tristan Venora]

Tristan really enjoyed the people fawning over him, even though they were just random drunkards in a tavern and would abandon him as soon as he had run out of money. He actually reached into one of his pockets and threw a handful of copper nels into the air, as if he were a king sharing his considerable wealth with the dirty and unwashed masses during a parade of the city on the occasion of his birthday or a similar event.

And then he laughed out loud because the whole situation was just too amusing and took a large gulp from his mug, nearly coughing as he did so because his drink didn’t taste particularly good. Making a face, he set the mug down again and looked at the man who had just spoken. He was too tall and too thin, and his clothes didn’t seem to fit him properly which made Tristan think that he was not a noble, despite the way he talked.

"I’m always up for a game", he replied and joined him because getting drunk in company was more fun than getting drunk alone. "As for the ale, I’m in a masochistic mood today, that’s why I have decided to not only waste all my money, but also drink the worst drink here. As for my name, would you believe me if I told you that I’m Cassander Renault who has disguised himself because he really needs a break from being king?"

He waited for Oscar’s answer with (nearly) bated breath because it would without a doubt be interesting, but was distracted by another man joining them. "If that isn’t our master fighter", he remarked, recognizing him as the winner of the little wrestling match that had taken place a few bits earlier and added, "You’re welcome!" as the man thanked him for the drink.

"I’d actually love to see the walrus deal with them", he remarked as Vakhanor threatened the crowd that had gathered around him and that was beginning to give him a bit of claustrophia with the barman’s daughter. "It would probably be funny." He paused to remove another five coppers from his pocket that should help him get rid of the two men that refused to leave him alone. "We were just introducing ourselves as that is apparently considered a necessary part of a conversation between strangers in this society", he said as he turned back to Vakhanor. "You are free to make a name up if you think your current one is boring or you are in the mood for a change. That’s what I’m doing sometimes."

[Oscar Pyth]

“You’d be amazed just what I would believe of a man that buys drinks for everyone in the tavern. If not the king, I suspect you’ve mercantile origins or perhaps noble ones. If the latter, you are successful enough to spend wildly. If the former, well, that pays for itself.” The Acolyte mused aloud. “However, very well, Cassander. How goes ruling over everyone? Must be quite the tiresome duty.” Oscar indulged Tristan’s flight of fancy with a sardonic grin on his face as he leaned back in his chair.

The young man turned his attention to Vakh, who had opted to sit himself right next to him. Oscar grinned as he recognized him from the match. “Well now, it appears celebrity has opted to stop on by. Quite the night for me, a peerless warrior and the king himself. Certainly a story I’ll be telling to drunkards and wastrels for many days to come.” He chuckled as he set down the deck of cards and held his hand out for a shake with the wrestler at his side. “Oscar Pyth, pleasure to make your acquaintance over drinks at the expense of the royal coffers.”

Oscar, as always, had made certain to keep his Conduit at his home when he went out drinking. That was not something one should bring with them when consuming a great deal of booze. Not that he’d be needing it really, Oscar didn’t exactly scream pay day. Tristan on the other hand… The scholar’s eyes searched across the room for anyone eying the nobleman up in a suspicious manner. The Blacksmiths Arms was a friendly enough place, but it did attract the attention and patronage of criminal elements from time to time. The man had bought him a drink after all, some courtesy was nice.

After a bit or two he spotted them. A few rough looking customers seated at a table across the way, occasionally stealing less than friendly glances at Tristan. Oscar looked away just as he spotted them and back to the noble, his usual smirk on his face. So best to keep the rich man entertained for a bit, maybe they’d get bored and just head on home without incident. He picked up the deck of cards and shuffled them.

“So, a game for three then? What’ll it be? Spades? Blackjack?” The Acolyte inquired in a jovial manner.

[Vakhanor]

Whoever the hell these two were they, normal was the last he would have used to describe them. A man with too much money and a drunk with his head in the clouds and both socially either queer or awkward, he couldn't figure out which. Well at least either of those things was a hellbent blacksmith that spent the other half of his life cutting into people to get information.

"Vakhanor. I'm no master at anything," the smith replied coolly, offering up his name as he took a sip of his drink. He hadn't really much to say about knights recently, the last two that he'd seen were pit fighting against each other in an arena fighting for whatever shred of honour they had left. And a king? Well... Vakh's eyes shifted to Tristan with solemn consideration, Kings had a habit of dying these days. The smith suspected that neither man wanted to hear these opinions, as high born men and women went it wouldn't matter what he thought. There was often little exception for the thoughts of a common man, pub celebrity or none. It was then Oscar suggested to have a game.

"I'll play whatever you can teach me the rules too," Vakh said, a grin lifting him away from his more morbid thoughts. Not a master of game or recreation the smith had only once gambled before in a game of poker and what luck that had given him other than loosing money. "Dunno if I can play for long though, gotta be up again in the six breaks. Could spend one with ya if I push it."

[Tristan Venora]

"Oh, I love ruling", Tristan replied and flashed Oscar a brilliant smile because he quite liked playing the part of the king, even if it was only for a trial, and he wasn’t sure how the real Cassander would react when he found out (he’d probably either laugh or throw him in the dungeon and have him tortured). "Kings get all the girls – and the best food and the most fashionable clothes of course. It almost makes up for all the people trying to assassinate me. Why, somebody tried to poison me just before I came here!"

From the expression on his face and the tone of his voice one could almost get the impression that he enjoyed the attempts on his life which meant that he was either insane, a masochist or both (or an actor with a very strange sense of humor who had drunk too much).

"He doesn’t look like a peerless warrior though", the self-proclaimed king of Rynmere said and pointed at Vakhanor who, despite being quite tall, appeared to be rather skinny. "What did you do, Vakhanor?" he asked, turned to the redhead and looked at him curiously. "Did you defeat Torloth Bower in the arena or slay a dozen insane mages at once and walk away unscathed? If you did, I’ll think about giving you a job."

Having that said, Tristan turned back to Oscar, took his hand and shook it because he was a nice false king who wanted to get in touch with the dirty and unwashed (or in this case probably occasionally washed and only slightly dirty) masses and get them to like him.

"Blackjack", he decided. "But you’ll teach Vakhanor because I’m your king, and I say so. By the way, let me know when your glass is empty. I might be persuaded to buy you more."

[Pig Boy]

Tristan

Experience: 15 no magic xp

Knowledge:

Acting x4
Persuasion x3
Resistance x1

Renown: none

Skill Usage: Appropriate to level

Loot/Losses: none

Injuries/Conditions: none

Consequences: none

Everyone Else

Experience: 15 no magic xp

Knowledge: Let me know if you guys return and I'll award you knowledges.

Renown: none

Skill Usage: Appropriate to level.

Loot/Losses: none

Injuries/Conditions: none

Consequences: none

Comments: Tristan impersonating King Cassander was a funny ploy, if a bit ill-advised. I wonder if Faith would've held Tristan's hand if he'd tried the same trick with her? The thread had a promising and interesting beginning, with the men about ready to play a round of blackjack, but it's unfortunate this seemed to have been cut short.

Enjoy the rewards!

If you have any concerns about this review, please PM me about them.