Just Passing Through...

[Imperial]

The endless cacophony of raindrops pummeling the forest canopy made hearing anything else impossible, and the faint flicker of lights in the distance were really the only thing Rosk could make out ahead of him, so onward he trudged. It had been 2 days since the Half-Orc had followed the road into Concordia, and until tonight it had been more-or-less a pleasant experience. Late that afternoon a sudden downpour decided to rear it's ugly head, and now he was knee-deep in muck, hoping to reach whatever civilization was in the distance. "If those lights aren't from an Inn, something is going to get headbutted." Rosk thought, nodding once in an unspoken promise to himself. Luckily for one of the residents of Underwood, there would be no skullbashing tonight as the gruff mercenary got close enough to break out into a hustle towards the Inn/Tavern with the fancy sign displaying 'The Peaceful Promenade'.

"ALE, NOW." Rosk barked as he entered, not even taking a moment to dry himself off before dropping himself onto a seat. The tavernkeep quickly complied, filling a glass for the newcomer and setting it down at his table. "My thanks" he muttered, taking a LONG drink before setting the glass down, as well as a gold piece for his server. The Half-Orc quietly contemplated his plans for the future as his eyes ran about the main floor of the tavern. Hopefully some work would pop up, but at this hour it was pretty unlikely.

[Bitter Matthew]

Not entirely thrilled at all to be walking in the rain, the tarp made of some random skinned animal covered Bitter Matthew's head. His boss sent him out to do some advertising. His method was giving Matthew a leather T-shirt with writing on it. On the front it said "The Peaceful Prominade is for Losers" and on the back it said "Come to the Rusty Aglet. We don't pee in our beer." Of course, He has no idea what this shirt says, as it's written in common, and he doesn't speak a word of it.

He's been walking for a good 2 hours to get here and surprisingly wasn't really attacked at all. Angry at the rain because it was a bastard, he quickly trotted to the first open building he saw, The Peaceful Promenade. "This place looks like some homeless people decided to open a bar, then they decided 'Hey! This place isn't filthy enough and doesn't smell like feces, let's fix that.'" He mumbled in reaction the the perfectly acceptable bar. Quickly he opened the door as loudly as possible and threw his wet animal pseudoumbrella haphazardly across the room. It hit one of the customers , a large well armed orc, square in the face. Luckily for him, the gentleman was too drunk to even notice.

Then Matthew peered across the room. He saw Rosk sitting at the bar. He didn't know what was making him mad yet, but something about this guy irked him. He slinked across the room and sat right next to the Half-Orc. staring with fierce intent. Matthew pointed at the Ale and yelled at the bartender, "Hey retard!" Assuming he was politely asking for a beer, he gave him the beverage. Completely misunderstanding what the Angry Chap said the Bartender smiled and quipped, "You know, you're the only person who has nicely asked for a drink today. this one's on the house." Matt took a swig and responded, "This tastes like rubbish. Did you just pour water through a dead rat?" and continued drinking, because he was thirsty. "Oh you're welcome." replied the bartender. Then Bitter Matthew went back to his business at hand, the guy sitting next to him. "You!" he spoke to One-Tooth in his bizarre tongue of English, "I don't like you. Not one bit. You smell like a fried foot and look like you ran through traffic. What's it like to be such a hideous turd?"

[Imperial]

Well this was new. The most oddly-dressed human Rosk had ever seen, had sat down by him and started barking bizarre gibberish. Rosk merely looked at the loud individual with an eyebrow raised. After a few moments of more awkward staring, he decided to try and make some sort of contact with this bizarre foreigner. "DO - YOU - SPEAK - COMMON?" he said slowly to the newcomer, making a few simple hand gestures to get his point across. He also seemed a bit portly, perhaps he would stop shouting his weird language if Rosk got him something to eat. Normally Rosk wouldn't care much about this person, but boredom, combined with a lack of work and a faint glimmer of good nature that seemed to spring up in him once in a while were some prime motivators in his actions. Rosk snapped his fingers at the barkeep and ordered some bread for the angry overweight guy across the table.

[Bitter Matthew]

After the slow "talking to the indians" routine was shoved into Matthew's ears, he became a twinge more annoyed. It grew worse as a delightfully garnished piece of the most awful rock hard bread was brought to Bitter Matthew.

"What is this!? WHAT IS THIS!?" he bellowed. "You hitting on ME!? I don't swing that way you Green Poof!" Then Bitter Matthew proceeded to Open his roll, spit in it, and shove it in Rosk's drink. Then, he went over the Drunk Orc in the corner, got back his Tarp Umbrella, and left the bar yelling "I MUST HAVE ACCIDENTALLY WALKED INTO A GAY BAR!"

"What a strange way to show courtesy" remarked the Bartender right before Matthew threw a ball of mud into the bar yelling "KEEP THE CHANGE" and running off into the woods.

[Imperial]

Rosk's expression to the bizarre man's behavior was one of apathy, and a bit of surprise with the fact he rejected perfectly fine, free bread. Taking a bite out of the loaf and finishing up his drink (after removing the roll from it), he inquired to the Innkeeper about the accommodations. "How much for a room and a wake-up call?" The Half-Orc asked, his temper from traveling in a rainstorm subsided. "About 10 gold, stranger." said the keeper, surprisingly calm about the jabbering fellow who had thrown mud on his tavern floor. Rosk nodded in agreement with the price and handed the sum over before grabbing his things and heading upstairs.

The room was more than decent, with a bedside table, wool blankets, a feather pillow and a chamber pot to boot. Hopefully he would be able to find the contact he was supposed to meet for his next job tomorrow, and then he could see about getting his hands on a horse once he got his payment. But for now, this soldier-for-hire needed some sleep.

[Imperial]

Underwood wasn't as bad as Rosk had thought it would be. After a nice breakfast of eggs and bacon, he had decided to walk around the town in hopes of running into this contact he had been told to meet there. The soft beams of sunlight beaming their way through the gaps in the forest canopy and the chirps and tweets of the birds in the surrounding forest gave the entire village a very serene atmosphere. He had made a mental note to himself to quit his current Mercenary Company, as they were downright terrible at giving proper instructions. Rosk hadn't been told when and where exactly to meet his contact, just that he was to speak with them in town.

"Excuse me, are you the one named Rosk?" an incredibly low, somber voice said. The Half-Orc turned to see who was speaking, and was greeted by a tall figure with a pale complexion. "Yeah, I'm Rosk. Are you the contact I was supposed to meet?" the mercenary put forth bluntly. The figure nodded and gestured for him to follow. While the tall man walked towards a more secluded area of the town, he proposed a single, odd question:"Have you ever been to a village called Cathedral Hill?"

-end-