Open Chronicles Bad Company

[Ishmael]

CHESTNUT INN - VEL ANIR OUTSKIRTS
Sometime after the events of Bad Business

It went without saying that Vel Anir was not the most hospitable locale for non-Humans. In fact, it was a major reason why Ishmael's operations in Falwood tended to conclude at the Falwood Stone, rather than hoofing it a little ways northward to rest in a proper city. Yet, there was a reprieve from having to leg it from Stone to Stone to Base: the Chestnut Inn.

Now, compared to any proper tavern inside a city, the Chestnut was a humble. The food was passable, the selection of beverages limited...and the beds were clean. What made made Chestnut truly attractive was its reputation of being the closest thing to a warm welcome a non-Human would receive if they were in Vel Anir's vicinity.

And after concluding their business at the Ruins, Ishmael figured there was no better place to make good on his promise to the myriad of strangers he met that day. After meeting under...explosive...circumstances, he vowed to treat each and every one of them to several rounds of strong drink. It was the absolute least he could do. Moreover, the rest of his growing band had been instructed to regroup there. From thence, they could plan their next moves and continue the Sellsword trade.

Thus, Ishmael led the way inside the cozy tavern. Upon entering, his lads shoved more than a few tables together to accommodate their midst while the sable-skinned man plopped gold down in front of the barkeep. To their good fortune, a bard had stopped in for the evening and was playing on his lute - a welcome bonus for their gathering indeed. Soon, their midst would have ale in hand, some decent grub on plates, and good company to spend the evening.

Grabbing a tankard, Ishmael toasted the room.

"If nothing else, I'm a man of my word." he began. "Drink until you can't stand, then drink some more!"​

Adilet Duha | Voph | Eenia Vahn | Sariel Elatoris | Linaeli Aneiryn | Sabrina Argent | Patrik Fetladral​

 

[Cato]

Last job was shit, one 'fore that was twice shit. The mercenary's lucky seemed to be the same as always. 'Course he still hadn't bought the farm so he was still luckier than most. He never really expected to grow old and die, but Cato wasn't keen on dying too soon neither. The captain kept choosing contracts like this, his boys would put a knife in him before anyone else. He'd seen it happen more times than he cared to admit. Hells, he'd done it the past himself. Bastard deserved it, the mercenary reassured himself.

He was headed back east now, back to the main camp with the rest of the degenerates he called comrades. They weren't the worst-well some were but most were alright. Still, it was going to take a bit to the Stone and Cato didn't fancy sleeping under the stars this night. Fortunately he knew a good place in this area and one that avoided Vel Anir proper. The 'Shields did too much business with the Falwood folk; old grudges and all that.

Best to keep things simple and there was nothing simpler than an ale, or four in Cato's current case. He did not however fail to note the entrance of a hard-looking bastard, along with a handful of others. They gathered a number of tables next to the mercenary's own, and soon followed with a toast.

"Couldn' fucking said it better myself," the 'Shield barked raising his own tankard in toast. After taking a generous sip of his ale, he kept his attention on the man who appeared to be the leader of this particular band. "Seems you lot had it rough. I imagine there's a story there..." Cato often didn't care about other's business but he sensed they were in the same line of work. So realistically speaking, the man was either going to accede or try and shiv him.

Regardless, the night would be more interesting.

Ishmael

 

[Adilet Duha]

Cato | Ishmael ​

The sand-elf comfortably sat nearest the bard, a proper place for an exhausted individual who still needs to fully mingle with the generous crowd. Most of the faces were unfamiliar, and she was still acclimating to her current position.

Thoughtfully, she rubbed the barely-there ridges of the scars freckling her wrist; there was some kind of self-resentment there, knowing that her time as a slave would be considered a luxury to those that have truly suffered. By some workings of whatever god, she could escape with a healthy dose of her sanity and self. Much of that could be because of Ishmael and his company, though she won't be shy to admit she wasn't the type to be easily bent by the wills of masters and their ilk. If they hadn't rescued her, she might still be feeding grapes to her master and dancing for his company. It doesn't sound too bad when briefly spoken about, but she can't confidently say how long that lifestyle would have lasted.

Not in favor of the strong drink, Adilet chose to quietly sip on her water. There was a light dose of teasing coming from the group nearest her, some commenting on the uses of water, none of which included drinking. Taking it all in stride, the elf gave them a smile that reached her bright eyes, showing that they could tease all they wanted, but it will not dissuade her from staying sober. Slowly, the overall congenial company relaxes her.

Over the various conversations happening, she takes note of the outlier speaking directly to Ishmael. His comment about their leader having it rough made the woman lightly laugh into her drink. From the small amount of time she's been with the company, she's learned that there are turbulent times following them. If you were to ask any of them, they'd simply comment that it is what it is and that you can't avoid whatever fate has laid out before you. Adilet would be inclined to agree. Fate is a bit of a tease, and enthralled, they simply fall for her tempting airs - willingly.

 

[Tessara Tharneth]

Another Inn, another night out wandering from place to place. The half-elf ran a hand through her hair, hues in a stunning array of midnight. Deep violet in its color, her light blue skin a reminder of the moonlight across the waters. Hazel-amber eyes that were a stark contrast, Tessara followed in after the group. Looking more for a place to rest her head for the evening. The half-elf cast a wayward glance toward the others here, it seemed that the Chestnut Inn was a bit more alive than normal.

Tessara's quarterstaff punctuated her steps as she crossed the humble tavern. Uncomplicated with her leather armor over a plain tunic, and a pair of simple trousers. Roughly hewn together leather boots that have seen a myriad of sand, dirt, and at times soot. Setting forth the required coinage, Tessara sat at a small table that was nestled in an alcove with a rather clear view of the tavern.

Beer, bread, and soup were set before her. Pushing her hair away from her face, Tessara leaned her arms on the table for a moment to observe the group. Taking hold of the wooden spoon, she moved it through the soup and watched as the potatoes and beef moved around. All the while the crackling sounds of the fire, and the noise of the tavern began to drown out her own thoughts. A comfort, the half-elf supposed as she finally began to eat.

Ishmael | Adilet Duha | Sabrina Argent | Patrik Fetladral | Cato | Sariel Elatoris | Eenia Vahn | Linaeli Aneiryn | Voph​

 

[Sabrina Argent]

Sabrina has sort of found herself absorbed into the company of the people who had survived the events that had introduced them to one another. It seemed in all the chaotic fighting though that her two bodyguards had gotten themselves destroyed, and to make it even better, their foes also had managed to drive a dagger into her side. Which meant that she moved quietly, carefully, and attempted to keep from aggravating the barely healing injury.

While the others were making merry around the table, she simply leaned the staff she'd used to prop herself up on the walk back to civilization against the wall, and then sank back into the shadows, closing her eyes and smiling thinly. They had survived, and perhaps she'd even found herself a new group of friends. Of course, the destruction of her two guards had made her nature painfully obvious to her fellow travelers, so it was always possible that was going to cause complications, something she'd attempt to keep an eye out for at least.

Sabrina's dark cloak clad form stilled as her breath eased, and soon it would appear that she was asleep. Maybe she'd be simply ignored in the shadows, or perhaps one of her companions would wake her when it was time to retire. Who could really tell?

Ishmael | Adilet Duha | Tessara Tharneth | Patrik Fetladral | Cato | Sariel Elatoris | Eenia Vahn | Linaeli Aneiryn | Voph

 

[Orrak Lan]

Word had caught Orrak's ear of a company. A company that showed promise. Bad as they were, they had survived some wickedness in the Falwood, amidst ruins and circumstances that would have seen lesser companies routed and scattered.

It could not hurt to work with people of talent for a change, and while she loathed to be so close to the land of the most detestable xenophobes, she felt there was promise in this.

Why? She could not quiet say.

Maybe she was just tired of working alone. Tired of always looking over her shoulder.

That didn't matter now.

She approached the table where the band had gathered, and approached the sable skinned man with proud mane of hair and fierce gaze.

"Are you the mercenaries of Captain Ishmael?" she asked with stern and somber voice. Her spear rested on her shoulder, her bow unstrung and tied to her still dust-worn pack. "I have come in hopes of learning more of your number," she said in a tone that left no time to be wasted.

Ishmael | Adilet Duha | Tessara Tharneth |@Patrik Fetladral |@Cato |@Sariel Elatoris |@Eenia Vahn |@Linaeli Aneiryn | Voph