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Post by rumsztyk on Aug 4, 2017 11:04:45 GMT -8
"The fuck?" was the first thing that crossed George's mind. Duval? For the Warden? Ridiculous! But slowly, his confused face made way to giggling, then laughing.
"You sly cunt! That's a good one." He hummed, content, shooing away the bad thoughts. Just as Duval said, he ought to enjoy himself.
He summoned the barmaid. "Bottle of the usual, dear. And clean up the mess while you're at it."
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Post by Mr. Swagwalker on Aug 4, 2017 11:59:51 GMT -8
"Never been to the Cove?...That makes two of us, I suppose." Brenton commented with a small shrug of his shoulders. "It does surprise me, however, that a veteran such as yourself has never been there before. Is there something about it that has deterred you from it?--"
He paused himself upon hearing what Courcy said next.
I'm being forced on this mission, in place of more severe punishment, for my crimes.
The message Courcy was trying to get across to Brenton was very clear - she didn't want much to do with him and would prefer that he'd just stop talking to her. That he understood well; he was used to delivering such a tone to others around him after all. But alas, this new information did not deter the goggled doctor. Quite the opposite. His curiosity came alive, thirsting for answers, and Brenton could do nothing but be swept up in it.
"You are forced to join the expedition against your own will? For a...crime, no less?..." he asked and learned forward, resting his chin on his palm. A smirk emerged on his face, but this time it was less smug and more of an inquisitive expression, as if he was being educated on something completely new. "May I ask what sort of crime it was that got you into this situation, my friend?"
Edgar shyly glanced up at Courcy with an eyebrow slightly raised. Previously he had thought she was joining the expidition on her own terms, to slaughter monsters and sate her bloodthirsty warrior-spirit. But appearently she was in almost the exact same boat as he was; forced to wander in the oppressive dark of the dungeons to serve off her sentence.
Pity washed over Edgar, and he mouthed a prayer for Courcy's well-being. Although he had forgotten a few words of the verse, it was still the thought that counted to him.
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Post by Unter on Aug 4, 2017 12:35:25 GMT -8
"Twenty years old huh? And you're alone in this wretched place?" says Francois as he sees the food he ordered arriving. "Here, eat."
He adjusts his hair, and he stares at the young man. "Then I have a proposition for you, if you wish to hear it."
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Post by relentless on Aug 4, 2017 12:46:26 GMT -8
"Heh. The usual? Really?"
Duval says as he motions for the barmaid to come back, glinting at him mockingly.
"I do believe the Warden requires a... finer beveridge? The usual, but a higher quality brand and aging, lass."
Duval says as he spies back to the Barmaid, looking her up and down for a brief moment until he waggled a finger down at her skirt.
"Oh, and I'd like to see more leg out of you, darling."
Duval says as he waves her off, blowing a kiss at her, onto which she replied with a giggle before watlzing off. Turning back to George, Duval reclined back in his chair and smiled at him with a cocked head.
"Now that's how you get things done, Georgie. A slick tongue, slick looks and a slick lance can do wonders when faced with the opposite sex. I'd say you have one of those three, and it's neither the tongue or your lance. For someone who's been in war.."
Duval pauses as he takes a quick swig of his drink, emptying the mug finally, and then twirling a finger at George.
"-You're not half bad! Clearly not a lot decided to swing at your smug, dopey face... sadly. Though you do have a scar, but I do say, ladies enjoy a man who's seen his fair share of violence now and then."
Duval teased with a cackle.
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Post by black379 on Aug 4, 2017 14:40:58 GMT -8
"Not against my will. I'd rather this than be hanged or something equally overzealous."
Courcy corrected Brenton with a snarl, sitting up taller on the stool to assert herself. Her daunting stare remained fixed on the doctor, though she did spare a glance to George and Duval as they passed by.
"I sneaked into the abbey to kill the head, same one who's preaching the sermon. Obviously, I didn't."
She rolled her eyes again and preemptively answered his next question.
"She slaughtered the man I loved."
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Post by rumsztyk on Aug 4, 2017 15:00:33 GMT -8
-George-
"Hah! Please! I already drink the best, and they know it. Regular customer." He adjusts his badge with a smirk. Yes, the long lost smirk - the same he had on the first day in this wretched place.
"Like you can teach me anything." he scoffed. "Unlike you, I'm not a baby-faced wanker. You can keep the girls, women like scars as you said." He traced the thumb on his left cheek. He remembered how he got it... The war took many casualties. George was lucky and he knew that. The fact he commandeered more than fought was certainly in his favor.
"Besides, if you wanna see dopey, buy a mirror." He retorted with a smile, shooing away the bad memories.
----------------------------------------------------------
-Milo-
He pounced at the meal with uncanny ferocity, showing disdain for cutlery and manners. Eating with his hands, he reminded himself he was in the presence of a noble of some sorts - but hunger won anyway. Just sparing Francois a sideways glance, he nodded penitently.
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Post by relentless on Aug 4, 2017 15:15:02 GMT -8
"Woahwoahwoah. Baby faced?! Bitch! I have a beard! Finnnnely grooooomed! Look what you have, bunch of stray pubes hanging off yah face, tossa!"
Duval shot back with a wicked flick of his tongue, cackling yet again. He too shared a jovial smile, one that always seemed active despite what he's gone through here. The horror, the damnable horror of this place was all but a nightmare when he was in the hamlet... and was he escaped from this place with wealth entow, that's what it would all be. A nightmare.
"Trust me George.."
Duval paused as he leaned forward, elbows planted firmly on the desk and producing an almost serious expression... that was until it widened into a silly grin.
"You need to get laid."
Duval teased with a cackle as he eyed the inhabitants around him, seeing who would be admirable enough to wet George's whistle.
"Go on George.. pick yah fancy! The warden should be well endowed every night, for what's a moment of stress relief without a womans cunt on your lips, no? Especially after a long and hard days at work... the ladies will appreciate the same thing... well, in a different sense that is."
Duval persuaded with a tender look in his eye, then a wink before he slowly reclined, rolling his shoulders as he produced a long yawn.
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Post by lightningfast on Aug 4, 2017 18:54:54 GMT -8
"Aye," Mordecai concurs, "Perhaps we can head to the Guild Hall and see if we can't recruit some assistance, eh Fen?"
And with that, he stands up and nods, gesturing towards the door before leaving himself. (GOING TO THE HAMLET STREETS~!)
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Post by stealthclaw on Aug 4, 2017 19:01:41 GMT -8
The younger doctor stood up from her place, grabbing her mask and donning it before pulling up her hood. "Yes," Was her simple remark, now muffled by her mask. After a few firm tugs she found that her protective beaked mask was tightly in place, turning and heading after her new teacher.
(Exit to Hamlet Streets)
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Post by Unter on Aug 5, 2017 0:04:49 GMT -8
Francois looks at the satisfied young man. "Will you be interested in becoming my squire ? All knights needs one, and I came here alone. You look like a competent kid. If you accept, I will feed, I will shelter you, I will teach you and I will protect you.
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Post by rumsztyk on Aug 5, 2017 3:54:09 GMT -8
Describing Milo as 'stumped' would be an understatement. Him? As a squire? He was likely the least qualified person for the job...
But Milo didn't care, nor did he listen to Francois past the promise of food. With his mouth still full, he dared to look up at the knight and nodded vigorously, many times.
Worst case, he would run away. Not like it didn't happen before.
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Post by Mr. Swagwalker on Aug 5, 2017 10:01:46 GMT -8
Brenton did not make any snarky comments this time. He only looked at Courcy, silently and neutrally, with an eyebrow curiously raised.
"...My, my...How tragic." he stated and locked his hands together. "To think, that the head of a religious event would be the same person who murdered your loved one...And yet so many seem to be attending to it. I can't help but wonder if anyone here has even payed your emotions a single thought upon hearing the call of the church?"
Brenton leaned back in his chair, smiling a tad. He knew well what situation this was - or at least so he would think.
"It just goes to show the true nature of religious folk. They always blabber on about the same things; that they strive for good, justice and purity...but in reality they are simply regular people like you and me. And tell me, what happens when a human gains an opportunity for leverage over others, such as a grand title?" He took a moment to pause for dramatic effect, but then continued without waiting for an answer; "Why, they abuse it for their own gain, of course. A priest might claim to strive for good and what's right, but then he might charge with extra taxes upon his town while using these holy claims as a shield against any doubters or criticism. It is one reason why I stray away from such barbaric lines of thinking - the people who believe in such figures are misguided and foolish, blinded by an imaginary sense of heavenly justice, and more often than not are those people lead into traps like rats to a mousetrap. And here it seems the same has occoured to you.
Your lover is dead because of that church-figure, and yet nobody has even the slightest hint of doubt to go to their sermon. Doesn't that strike you as...odd?"
The way he stated his final question was less smug, but put forth as more of a philosophical proposition. Courcy's thougths on the matter seemed to currently interest him more than his sense of schadenfreude. At least, for the moment.
Edgar could only glare at Brenton in the corner of his eyes. Nobody had asked for his opinion on the church, nor had anyone asked for him to bring up paranoid accusations.
To hear such horrid things being said about followers of The Light was appalling to him. Not because he disagreed, that he would understand, but just the distasteful way Brenton expressed it. It felt like an insult to him, and many of those he used to know.
But then he began to think deeper. He thought about the day he was captured. Where he was captured, exactly.
A monestary.
...C...Could it actually be true?...No, h-he's lying again. I refuse to believe it.
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Post by Unter on Aug 5, 2017 11:07:21 GMT -8
Francois shows a content smile on his face. "Perfect." He doesn't even bother to ask the kid's name. He thinks for himself "God was right to send me here. This child is a sign, I know it. I will carry its will." He notices the kid. "Wait here one minute, and prepare yourself. We're going outside." He gets upwards, in his room. He puts his armor down and wear a simple, but with a nice touch of color, tunic. He only takes his sword.
"Alright young man, follow me. It's time for your first lesson."
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Post by rumsztyk on Aug 5, 2017 11:27:30 GMT -8
"You call that pathetic excuse for facial hair a beard? Come on, I thought better of you." George teased, chuckling. "I prefer it clean shaved."
The drinks arrived, a bottle of scotch and two glasses. George poured them both a hefty amount, then took a quick sip. Well, not a sip - he drank half the glass in one go.
In truth, his love life was nothing to write about. Except the occasional Brothel visit George hasn't been with anyone since they arrived, as he had much on his head - and the alcohol satisfied him enough. Enticed by Duval, he looked around the Tavern... which was eerily empty, people leaving one by one. Realization struck him.
"Fuckin' hell. I forgot about the sermon. Ought to show my face in there..." he grumbled, longingly staring into the glass... and downing it. "...Ah, whatever. Another one." he poured himself a helping and began to leave the table.
"You coming?"
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Post by rumsztyk on Aug 5, 2017 12:01:26 GMT -8
There wasn't much in terms of preparedness for Milo. He merely finished the meal and waited by the bar for Francois, standing in the dirty, oversized flax clothes.
"This is not looking terrible..." he smiled to himself when the man left. He followed outside, curious to hear the lesson. Still, he looked around uneasily when crossing the room, paranoia never left him.
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