- Messages
- 6
- Character Biography
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Tarvan inhaled the air of the Areck Slums. The mold, smell of waste, and the hint of tobacco brought comfort to the metropolitan inquisitive. It was cloudy, and Tarvan was grateful for the lamplight since he couldn't see the stars. The boots clicked against the broken stone until he made his way to the Sweltering Willow, a local haunt for men who enjoyed doing bad deeds. He wasn't here for pleasure but to get information. With a bold step, the smell of pipeweed and eel stew filled his nostrils.
For a moment the scene played through his head. He stood in the well-furnished bedroom, the sniffling her mother was loud Tarvan asked the woman to leave the room so he could think. There was no note, no sign of trouble, and the only correspondence was excitement for the upcoming festival, a festival that she never got to see. The inquisitive spent several hours going through the girl's things and he could not help that nagging feeling that something just didn't fit.
"You just going to stand there or buy something," the gruff voice asked. It snapped Tarvan out of his train of thought. Taking a few more steps toward the bar he sat down and took out several coins. "I'll have a half pint of the local swill," he said as he slid one of the coins to the barkeep. "I'll also take a moment for for your thoughts," he said as he slid the other coins towards the proprietor. "Elf girl, Y'thil Vellspunn, do you know if anyone had a job out for here," he asked in a more hushed tone.
The barkeeper pushed a glass toward his customer and leaned forward. His breath smelled nasty and the man was clearly missing teeth. "I know who you are rat, we got a code of silence over here, or have you forgotten," he said with a growl. Tarvan seemed unbothered and instead took a drink of the beer. It wasn't horrible but it wasn't the best, it was the type of liquor that was brewed locally and made for people on a budget. "Don't act all Pious Mathias, we are in the city of coin, and you know what they say about the city of coins? For the right price any bird will sing, so are you going to take my shrapnels and talk or am I going to have to shake down you," for a moment he saw stars as one of the local protagonists clocked him with a ceramic mug.
Falling to his side he watched the pieces shatter against the stone. Feeling dazed he regretted not hiring some muscle to watch his back, an oversight he would not make again. He tried to pull himself back to his feet but another attacker, the glimpse of the shattered knife on the man's forearm identified him as a member of a local crime outfit, The Shattered Blade. Moving his arms to protect his head, Tarvan's ribs burned as he took the third boot to his side. He tried to crawl but he was surrounded, all he could manage to do was roll under the bar counter to limit the number of blows he could take...
For a moment the scene played through his head. He stood in the well-furnished bedroom, the sniffling her mother was loud Tarvan asked the woman to leave the room so he could think. There was no note, no sign of trouble, and the only correspondence was excitement for the upcoming festival, a festival that she never got to see. The inquisitive spent several hours going through the girl's things and he could not help that nagging feeling that something just didn't fit.
"You just going to stand there or buy something," the gruff voice asked. It snapped Tarvan out of his train of thought. Taking a few more steps toward the bar he sat down and took out several coins. "I'll have a half pint of the local swill," he said as he slid one of the coins to the barkeep. "I'll also take a moment for for your thoughts," he said as he slid the other coins towards the proprietor. "Elf girl, Y'thil Vellspunn, do you know if anyone had a job out for here," he asked in a more hushed tone.
The barkeeper pushed a glass toward his customer and leaned forward. His breath smelled nasty and the man was clearly missing teeth. "I know who you are rat, we got a code of silence over here, or have you forgotten," he said with a growl. Tarvan seemed unbothered and instead took a drink of the beer. It wasn't horrible but it wasn't the best, it was the type of liquor that was brewed locally and made for people on a budget. "Don't act all Pious Mathias, we are in the city of coin, and you know what they say about the city of coins? For the right price any bird will sing, so are you going to take my shrapnels and talk or am I going to have to shake down you," for a moment he saw stars as one of the local protagonists clocked him with a ceramic mug.
Falling to his side he watched the pieces shatter against the stone. Feeling dazed he regretted not hiring some muscle to watch his back, an oversight he would not make again. He tried to pull himself back to his feet but another attacker, the glimpse of the shattered knife on the man's forearm identified him as a member of a local crime outfit, The Shattered Blade. Moving his arms to protect his head, Tarvan's ribs burned as he took the third boot to his side. He tried to crawl but he was surrounded, all he could manage to do was roll under the bar counter to limit the number of blows he could take...
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