New Beginnings

[Zezimus 1523]

New Beginnings

 

 

As the dim light of the moon gleamed across the great city of Petrus, the night was as usual as it had ever been. Guards patrolled along the walls, while the odd shadowed figure made his way down through the various streets and alleyways far below. Meanwhile, a great ruckus could be heard from within the local tavern as tankards of ale were filled, songs sung and wagers placed by all those present. It was apparent that most of the men, peasant and soldier alike had drunken themselves far beyond any state of rational thought.

 

 

Amongst the hustle and bustle however, there sitting in the corner of the room was a man adorned in what appeared at first glance to be more noble attire. A pointed chin stuck out from beneath his hood, as he flicked between his fingers a single silver coin. To either side of him sat two armoured men, both bearing seemingly composed mannerisms. Meanwhile, located directly opposite the table stood a large, portly looking fellow, draped in a somewhat humbler garb. As the hooded man looked up, the figure begun to speak. “Hail to you good sir! You are Yakov Tuvyovic Carrion, yes? Name’s Fawkes… I’ve heard you’re a betting man.”  The young Prince gave no reply, his eyes momentarily darting between each of the men crowded at the main table. Fawkes continued nonetheless. “See those two at the table? I’ll bet against you one hundred mina. You can choose your man.” Yakov gave a nod as he looked towards the table, where sat two soldiers, one on the left far sturdier looking, the other on the right, much scrawnier.

 

It was then that one of Yakov’s guards leant in towards him, whispering some words into his ear. Yakov replied immediately in a far more audible tone, “Niet, I’ll take one on right.” Grinning widely to reveal a set of pearl white teeth, he immediately flicked the silver coin into his pocket. Fawkes arched a brow as he turned to watch the two soldiers arm wrestle. Sure enough, it was the soldier on the right who emerged the victor. Fawkes looked back towards Yakov, a clear sense of irritation filling his eyes. He rose from his seat with such a force that the table nearly lifted, inadvertently causing a chalice of wine to hurl over and spill down upon the floor below. Yakov looked up towards Fawkes from beneath his hood, his pale blue eyes twinkling in the reflection of the candle light. “Ey Fawkes, you pay up, da?” Fawkes looked hesitantly towards the two guards, who by now had stood upright at the Carrion’s side, their hands rested firmly upon the pommels of their blades. Saying nothing, he nodded whilst sifting his hands into his pockets to reveal a small pouch of coins. Thereafter, he leant over and placed it on the table in front of Yakov, before hurriedly making his way outside.

 

 

As his guards lowered themselves back into their seats, the Carrion leant backwards, chuckling to himself gleefully as he lifted the pouch of coins from off of the table in an effort to weigh its contents. Satisfied at last, he set the pouch into his pocket and took a large sip from the contents of one of the bronze chalices. Meanwhile, another figure had made his way towards the front of the table. As the young Carrion’s attention turned upon him, the messenger cleared his throat to speak. “Your Imperial Highness, your father has requested your presence at the palace. He says it’s urgent.” With a deep sigh, Yakov quickly rose to his feet, nodding his head towards the messenger. “Da, best see what dear papa wants then…” he said in a displeased tone as he made his way from the table and strode off into the night, the two guards trudging shortly after him.

 

((Just a brief introduction to a new character, hopefully I didn't manage to butcher the Raevir accent too much.))

[Kardel 1054]

((After shift's departure you rejoining the dwarves would make my day. Nonetheless, glad to see you on lotc again.))

Jurgen Fristch looks at the man in noble attire while a wench warms his lap. He sips some beer from his mug and says to the young lass trying to get him to buy more booze "Dis must be a good bar, nein? Noblemen visit it..." He then turns back to the barkeep "let me have another!"

[Glyc 234]

Moved to the Great Library. It shall be sorted into appropriate category shortly.