Redford

“Excuse me, “ Ioder rasped leaning into the freshly soiled bar. Behind stood a lusty bar maiden tending to numerous patrons in the packed tavern. The smell of mead and whisky taunted Ioder’s pallet, challenging him to get distracted. But what the hell, this was citadel fight after all. Still he knew that an any moment his opponent would reveal themselves from the sea faces.

“Down here lassie.” He said offering his most suave expressing possible.

It didn’t take long before the maiden was stricken with Ioder’s superior good looks and charm. She finished pouring four tall mugs overflowing with mead to the rough and tough mercenary a few stools from Ioder. His fingers began to dance on the bar impatiently as he watched the lusty bar keep offer the four men a toast and join in on a swig of mead. But to his satisfaction she was right over before the mercs could even lift a mug from their mouths.

“What can I pour ya?” she said in a luscious sultry tone. “Whiskey, rum, brew?”

“Whiskey, dry…” Ioder said waving his finger and smiling a devilish grin. She pivoted and as if magic a glass appeared in front of him, and then she was off to the next guy. A wave of embarrassment overcame him thinking she was even slightly interested. She was only concerned with the amount of coin she can make.

Ioder took a long look at the drink in front of him before swiftly lifting it to his lips and shooting it back. It burned from his lips all the way down to his gut. After letting out a boastful grunt he slammed the glass down shattering it into pieces. He turned to face the crowd behind him and began scanning the room.

There was a large pig roasting of a central fire pit of the room. Along either side of this rectangular furnace were many tables all packed full with loud drunk men. There was very little room to walk before having to sift one’s way through a mass of people. Whoever Ioder’s opponent was, it would be hard to point them out.