- Messages
- 49
- Character Biography
- Link
“I’ll have you yet, longshanks!” Nerren Harclaw laughed as she laid down her hand of cards on the tabletop. The suits and ranks proved to be too much for her counterpart. She matched his hardly masked anger with a wicked grin and took a hearty sip of ale from her tankard.
“I can’t believe it!” Her fellow patron pounded his fist, making the plate of bread, meat and cheese bounce. “You’re naught but a chea—”
“Ah-ah.” At that, Nerren pounced, quicker than he could finish his sentence, and slammed the tip of her dagger into the wedge of cheese between the center deck of cards and his heart. “If I let your tongue say further words in regards to my character then, eheh…” She licked her lips. “I’ll have to take it, mate.”
He went quiet. Eyes into eyes. Then, taking whatever was left of his dignity and purse, he left her company, leaving an open seat. It was one in a dwindling number when it came to this tavern. The Clever Squire was as busy as one could expect for a rainy evening.
Left alone in her corner seat for the moment, Nerren elected to sip her drink, eat her dinner and listen to the live musicians at another corner. They were good enough with string and drum and, as word had it, invited other musicians to come on up if they wished.
She didn’t. Her fingers were best kept for the blades at her hips, sword or axe or dagger, amid her blue brown outfit of leather garment, fur cloak and armor. The Nordenfiir warrior was ready for more than one dumb drunken patron who didn’t like to lose. She hoped she didn’t need to be though.
Ispir Sione