The Tavern

[Shinzon]

Finally, a calm and collected man, and not even brooding at that.
Pulling back the chair opposite to Ibrahim, he sat down and set his nockgun onto the ground next to him, although still at arm's length - purely by habit now. Taking a scroll out of one of his pouches, along with an almost-empty ink bottle, he set them down onto the table and took the red feather off of his hat, dipping it carefully in the ink, before looking up at the man as he was asked his name.

"Nicholas Konrad", he said as he adjusted his hat respectfully. "Pleasure to meet you."
With that, he looked the man up and down, before realizing it might look impolite, and so he looked back down at the blank scroll and squinted, his able eye concentrating onto the piece of paper as he wrote slowly, putting great care onto each letter - something quite hard for him, as he still had some trouble with writing. And so he sometimes stopped, looking back up in Ibrahim's direction and thinking hard on the spelling of a certain word.

[rumsztyk]

"Ibrahim bin Omer." He nodded slightly. "My pleasure, as well."

He very much appreciated Nicholas' silence. It allowed him to consume the stew in peace, time after time a blackened hand raised from under the table to consume bread. Only the methodical, quiet chewing could be heard from him, while he regarded the writing, perhaps a bit impolitely at times.

Clearly, the man had some trouble in whatever he intended to create. Inbetween bits of food, he paused and asked. "Do you require aid?" The voice was the same - calm and monotone.

[Shinzon]

Although the veteran frowned slightly as he saw the blackened, charred hand of the man, he still did not comment on it, preferring to let the man consume his meal in peace, as he finally finished the introduction to his work. Sighing, he set his feather down, resisting against his desire to let his anger out. Writing down his last will was an arduous task, and so far, all he had written was his name and his many roles in his life. Bandit, crusader, repentant, sell-sword... banished. And now, he inhaled deeply, adjusting his hat, before raising his head to look at Ibrahim as he spoke in his calm voice.

"Actually, I do", he let out with some frustration. Pushing the scroll in the man's direction, along with the rich, red feather, he sighed and pulled at his mustache. "I want to have this ready before going back in there. I do not want my meager possessions to be pilfered."

[rumsztyk]

Ibrahim was reading Nicholas' writing while finishing the last bits of the stew. The empty bowl was set aside, in the end, the scholar grabbing the paper, quill and ink.

"What is this document supposed to be?" He asked, the quill's tip soaked ink and ready. "Please, dictate what would you like to be written." He was looking at Nicholas intently, his black eyes an uncommon sight.

[Shinzon]

"My last will", said the man as he nervously adjusted various straps and pouches onto his person. "In the case of my death in the dungeons." Sighing, he took his flask from his belt and took a sip from it, before nodding in appreciation as the liquid burned down his throat. "In the unavoidable event of my death, I, Nicholas Konrad, wish to be buried in this here Hamlet; my weapons and armor shall be given to the Abbey, so that the servants of the Light may always have equipment to rely onto. I wish for the rest of my equipment to be given over to Sister Maria, to whom I owe my very life. Commend my soul to the Flame, and may you see the end of this nightmare where I could not."

Leaning back against his seat as he finished speaking, he rubbed his eye, and looked once more at Ibrahim. There was a sense of profoundness he found there, something that reminded him of a bottomless pit. That man was calm and intelligent, and yet, he seemed sharp as a dagger. That was something to be commended, especially in such a foul place.

[rumsztyk]

"I see. Very pragmatic; not many think of their demise in a matter-of-factly way." He commended Nich before commencing the writing. His handiwork was much different: smaller, more tightly packed, but still clearly legible. The writing was even, lines parallel to each other. Ibrahim's hand worked like a machine.

He did not like the contents of the last will, specifically how often the religion was mentioned. Still, his face was the same - focused. The black hand was now revealed for better examination, holding down the paper.

Mentally notified was his demon to absolutely, under no circumstance, try anything foolish. Xuul complied begrudgingly.

"Here." He slid the last will over the table, then returned the writing implements. "Let it dry for a moment."

[Shinzon]

Nicholas watched the man write with fascination. He worked with precision and speed, something he knew he'd never be able to achieve. Taking the scroll and wathing with satisfaction at the contents, he simply let it dry, while placing the red feather back on his hat and the ink bottle into his pouch once more. "Thank you, sir Ibrahim", he said with a nod, placing two fingers onto the border of his hat and tipping it in the man's direction. "Anything I can do for you in return?"

[rumsztyk]

Ibrahim turned his eyes towards the Tavern doors. "Not at the moment, sir Nicholas." His hand went inside his robes, trying to retrieve the scroll, but it stopped. "Actually." He began, looking back at Nicholas. "I predict a long wait ahead of me, in this Tavern. I would enjoy a civil conversation, to pass time. What do you say?"

[Shinzon]

"Eh, I'm not the best at making some fancy conversation, but I'll try my best, sir", said the soldier with a shrug, stroking his beard, before an idea went through his mind. "Say, there's actually something I'd like to ask, if that's alright for me to do; what do you think of this place?" he asked as he took his finely crafted wooden box and opened it, taking his pipe from it and bringing it to his lips, although not putting any tobacco inside of it, simply keeping it in his mouth as a way to let out some of his anxiety.

[black379]

Courcy scoffed, following Tilly to the bar and taking the next seat beside her. She thought the blonde was jesting about the coat, the robber being almost stick like in appearance. The more Courcy forced a smirk or short laugh, she could even trick herself into ignoring the looming misery that picked away at her joys as they ripened.
"I've got meat on my bones, Tilly. Keep the jacket."
She sighed and crossed her ankles, slouching with an elbow on the bar. The hellion didn't rest her head yet, unsure if she would even manage to make much of sleep. She expected Blood would return soon enough, offering what he might for her to mooch off of. Even so, she patted down Tilly's satchel, as if fluffing a pillow, in preparation of sleeping.
Idly chewing on the end of her tongue, she watched Tilly, especially the absurdly chipper smile on her lips. She shook her head, working to keep up a smile, however sarcastic.
"We deserve more than that. Even at its best, this place... Are we that damned?"

[Vanitypirate]

Tilly smiled and rubbed her hands, hunkering forward on the bar.

"It's easier to keep a smaller house warm." Tilly argued, sharing her own shoddy wisdom, resting her cheek against the fleshy pad of her palm, spidery fingers bent and splayed as she settled into a comfortable position.

"But if you insist..." She shrugged, watching the door somewhat eagerly; she didn't know if she could sleep if she tried, what with the figurative butterflies she'd swallowed.

She was pathetic, it was shameful, she hazily knew in the back of her mind.

"Beggars can't be choosers-- or us damned, in this case." Tilly reminded her knowingly, idly swinging her feet to and fro, as if she were poised to spring up off her chair and scurry out of the tavern.

"See, if you see any bitty glimmer, some good thing, you cling to it." She nodded emphatically, pivoting on her supporting hand, "Doesn't matter if it's love or... friendship, or just some dinky bar table. It's the only real way to survive here."

[black379]

Courcy gave up her grin and shrank in her seat. Since Baignard died, she had been clinging, clawing, strangling the life out of the smallest semblance of love in desperation. All that kept her from losing herself was the faint hope of the impossible - that unfathomable good might be found among the unfathomable evil.
"Maybe they'll come back."
She shared her 'glimmer' with Tilly. Her blue eyes, pitiably hopeful, searched in her friend's.

[Vanitypirate]

"Maybe they will..." Tilly agreed, hesitantly, averting her gaze momentarily to the bar surface before bringing them back up to meet Courcy's eyes.

She shrugged, and made to seem happily indifferent,

"But you give them too much power if you wait on them to come back." She told her, perhaps hypocritically, considering how she eyed the door like some trapped hound; though, she reasoned, she found her own glimmer in the camaraderie found here, with Courcy at this bar.

"You do what you can; find happiness wherever you can..." She patted the counter's wooden surface for emphasis,

"Here, for example: we've got a warm place to rest our head. It's a good start."

[Kidney]

Tod swung open the door to the Tavern, his collar popped up, the furred edge hugging his cheeks, ears and lower face in a warm embrace. The rest of the coat was pressed against his body tightly, and Tod now surveyed the Tavern, looking for a place to sit, away from the other patrons of this...interesting place. Tod soon found an empty table, pulling a chair out with a low screech that made him cringe, and and sat down with a heavy thud.
He pulled his hands from his coat, pulling forth his last coins, waving a waitress over politely and awkwardly asking for some ale...or whatever he could afford.

[Kidney]

Clance finished the bowl of chowder, wiping his mouth quickly. He looked up to the one handed bartender, "Hey, can I get a room please?"
He flashed a bashed smile, placing down a small pile of coin for the night. \
Hook grunted, reaching for the coins and then handing Clance a key from under the bar.
Clance grabbed the key quickly, walking upstairs to his room.
He opened the door, closing and locking it behind him.
He flopped onto the bed.

zzzzzzzzzz