Warbling minstrels in the night

[p. Brocade]

POSTED: Thu Jul 11, 2019 7:33 pm

You dumb Krios

He swayed with the heat of the nearest person. It was altogether far too hot at the bar at the peak of summer, though the merciful sun was setting and the cool of evening set in. But with the mass of bodies in the bar, it was almost as though it were only getting hotter and hotter.

It really did not help that Krios was not exactly not drinking. He had finished a rather long scouting trip around the lands that bordered Salsola, starting at the loch that was once a bay and snaking his way around north-northeastward before cutting west and zig-zagging through the unclaimed. As the true killer of the Crone had yet to come to light, his patrols were often like that, though he frequently changed where he started and where he looped.

Fruitless, just like everything else for him.

He finished his patrol rather late, but he had been more thorough than usual, and even then found nothing of note other than the traces of loners passing through briefly. Krios had even warned off one that had lingered, but the message had been quickly received. So where else could the Striker go with his evening freed? Home? Of course not, not to his wife that did not care nor to his grandmother and siblings who were trying to make do with the loss of his mother.

No, Krios went to the bar he had started frequenting more and more since the trial of his aunt. They knew his name. Well. Not his real name, but Magnus, a jovial hunter who brought in furs and meat plenty often and sometimes even had a trinket or two to trade for drinks.

That evening there was a wandering musician with a lovely songstress joining him. The handful of still-sober canines clapped along to her jaunty tune in a pretty warm voice and an accent that suggested an origin across the seas to the east. Krios clapped along with the rest, though there was already a mug of bitter ale in his belly spreading the fire into his heart.

It was the only time he felt lately.

The song finished and he hooted before turning to the barkeep, leaning on the bar, and putting up a finger for a drink, smiling stupidly. The keeper looked at him and then quickly to the side. His look was inquisitively back at Krios, who looked beside him to see the pretty songstress making eyes at him. Not dainty by any means, the curvy girl was nearly white with grey and black in her wavy hair. Dog ears. Dog blood, clearly, but it was those warm amber eyes that melted into his burning chest.

Everything Kamari was not.

He stuck up two fingers, grinning at the barkeep, when he felt a warm trail of fingers down his other arm and a deep, warm chuckle from beside him.

Yes.. everything Kamari was not.

Krios Revlis
Come touch me like I’m an ordinary man. Have a look in my eyes. Underneath my skin there is a violence

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The Inquisitor
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Vedetto, Milite Mate to Kamari
Bloode Moste Potente
buy back the secrets

POSTED: Tue Aug 20, 2019 9:16 pm

It felt strange to be so far from the Kingdom. In the wake of the murders everyone had taken up their duties, Inquisitors and Family alike – each eager to stake their claim on a mystery that as of yet had not been solved. Brocade stalked through The Ruins daily, eager to find something that lay out of place – but instead he was always met with the unblinking eyes of that infernal servant. Odalis was always out in Elphabas yard, and each time he wandered passed she would stare after him until he had disappeared behind the next ridge.

There was something unnerving about that blind eye – and it made Brocade wonder what the girl thought of him. There had been new markings on her arms, angry red things that had made her pull down her sleeves.

Out here there were no eyes to watch him, no would-be wife tittering her sweet nothings into the cusp of his ear. Morgana was full of bold ideas and was eager to plan for there nuptials. Brocade would be happy so long as she was happy, and so it was that he left her to hr plans. Out here in the neutral forests he could smell cooking meat and the gentle thrum that announced that he was close to the Tavern. Morgana would never come so far from their home, and as Brocade passed a curvy traveller he couldn’t help but allow a low whistle to creep out from between his teeth – his jaws parted into a wolfish grin.

Out here he was nothing, and he reported to no one.

He pushed his way into the bar with a grunt and made his way straight to the bar. He deposited a fat rabbit upon the counter and rapped his knuckles against the hardwood to catch the barkeepers attentions. Inside the room was dim despite the daylight outside, and the scents were a mixed bag of mead and sweat, dogs and wolves. As the drink was shoved toward him Brocade hoisted the ale to his lips, eager to drink away whatever insecurities nibbled at his insides.

One scent that wafted toward him was more familiar than the rest, and so when he turned his head he was not surprised to find Krios with a pretty dog upon his arm.

He swaggered towards him with a stern expression – for he thought of Kamari and wondered what it was that Krios was doing so far from his pretty jackal wife.

”Magnus!” He boomed, rubbing shoulders with the teal-eyed man jovially, ”Fancy running into you here.” He glanced at the woman and held out his hand, ”I heard someone call your name over there-“ He gestured with his thick muzzle, ”You should go and see what they want.”


The Inquisitor
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Luperci Vedetto, Milite
you forget I have a gypsy heart
listen to the wild

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