This Table Sits Two (Open to One)

[Ivory Evil]

"... That was the ugliest broad I had ever seen, but it seemed to work in her favor! The only women I get a rise out of killing are the pretty ones, so I let her live..." A large seemingly powerful man sat surrounded in the corner, his empty mug clashed with the wooden counter tops alerting the bartender that he was ready for a refill. His stories often filled the halls of the small lonely tavern that resided near the center of town. A glow from his lit cigar revealed many small pits and craters on his blushing cheeks. His name was Vincent and he was one of the roughest smugglers in Scara Brae.

Around Vincent sat the same crowd that usually followed him throughout Scara Brae. To one side sat Corvan Mcrinnin and his younger brother Al, they wore jade checkered tunics which hinted at the wealth of their father Arthur Mcrinnin. Next to the brother sat a smaller man named Frederick, but he was simply known as Saber. Saber had received his name from his prized saber which he had named Aldruin. The blade was truly magnificent, a jewel en crested hilt that led to a three foot long blade. On the other side of Vincent was Franz, he was the wise guy of the group and wore a blue cloak that radiated with an appealing blue aura. As usual the gang would stop by here for drinks on their many runs to their clients that resided in the city.

The bartender slid Vincent a fresh mug full of ale. Quickly he picked the mug up and downed it signaling to the bartender he would need another. The bartender shot him a worried eye.

"Ah Sid lighten up, you know I'm good for it!" Vincent threw his arms up giving the bartender a half assed shrug. In the perfect world Vincent was an honest man who kept his word. But Althanas was not a perfect world and Vincent was just another low life crook.

In fear Sid, the bartender picked the mug from the counter. "Well alright mister Vincent, but only for you!" The first emotion that one could guess from Sid's posture was fear. He was a chubby pale man whose pub had been surprisingly successful despite the wide range of miscreants that filled it during the later hours.

From his belt Vincent removed a small steel dagger and turned it a short distance from his eyes. "Besides... If you didn't I'd have to gut you fat man!" Vincent poked a steel dagger at Sid and rotated it slowly clockwise.

Sid began to feel uncomfortable with the threatening gestures but he simply let out a smile. He knew many of the patrolmen near his pub were under the payroll of Vincent, and if he did want Sid dead he would be dead.

"I'm just messing with you Sid lighten up!" Vincent slammed the dagger into the counter causing Sid to nearly jump.

Sid let out a fake laugh and poured the ale for Vincent, he had been bested in his own place and wasn't very happy about it.

"Enjoy your drink Mr. Vincent." Was the last thing Sid said before walking away to tend to the other patrons of his bar.



A short distance away sat a quiet slender man. His nice attire hinted that he was not part of Scara Brae's Underworld, but rather something much larger. He wore also an unfaltering grin revealing white teeth that matched his clean ivory dress suit. His eyes were bright red but were slightly hidden under the shade of his chic glasses. His face was muscular and his skin was raw and pale. As Sid the bartender approached the man's table he kicked out a chair that slid in Sid's direction.

"Take a seat friend I think I might have a proposition that we could both benefit from!"

[Wynken]

Wynken listened to the man’s pretentious chaff from a table in the corner of the bar. He had heard the bartender address him as Mr. Vincent. Wynken had known of him for only minutes, and already he contemplated the joy it would bring to stab him in the back of the neck. He was well used to wielding fear and intimidation, feeling no moral qualms at their use. However, such public and ostentatious displays as those of Mr. Vincent always seemed a mark of weakness and insecurity to Wynken.

This was his first trip to Scara Brae, and he had only recently made the journey from Corone. Wynken had secured himself a room for the evening with the intention of pressing on to the mainland come morning. He traveled on business having recently garnered new woodworks from Aislynn, which he had left in his quarters.

He hadn’t yet ordered himself a drink, and was intent for the moment to observe the surrounding atmosphere. The place was tidy and moderately well furnished despite several signs of heavy wear which Wynken imagined to be the leavings of a squabble or two. Overall it was cozy and well kempt for its location.

As Sid waited on his various other patrons, Wynken watched as one man forcibly invited the barkeep to join his table. The suspicious act captured his attention, and he strained to hear their conversation.

[Ivory Evil]

The nicely dressed man had a certain drawl to him that could lure the attention of beautiful women and nervous men alike. He was a charmer by reputation even though half the things that spewed from his mouth was trash. The timid bartender had already been rattled tonight and was at first hesitant to accept the strange offer.

"Go ahead man, I ain't gonna bite!" The pale man spoke again pointing towards the vacant chair.

"Alright mister..."

"The names Vandahir Elaredhal, but my friends call me Van" The crimson eyes that were almost hidden beneath the tinted glasses never once leaving Vincent and his chums at the bar. "I see you have a problem here pal but lucky for you I have a solution."

Sid turned to face Vincent who was waving an empty mug and glaring impatiently at him. "I don't know mister Van, I really don't need any trouble... Not from the guards, Vincent, or his gang."

"No need to worry I am a professional and as a professional I can assure you no trouble will come your way."

Sid squirmed like a worm on a hook, revealing the weak and prideless man that was dormant within. "Well..."

"How's this sound, I kill those guys over there and I become let's say... Five hundred gold pieces richer?"

"And if you don't succeed?"

"Oh but I will my friend, I can assure you that."

Suddenly a loud chant interrupted Sid and Van, "Hey Sid stop pussy footin' and come fix me a brew!" The crew that stuck to Vincent like gum on a shoe began to chuckle.

"Fix my problem and I'll give you six hundred gold pieces." Sid added quietly as he pushed in his chair and walked back to his busy bar counter. His will had finally been broken but even he had no idea what was in store for Vincent and his crew. A slimy smile emerged on Van's face as he caught an awkward glance from Saber who sat quietly next to his friends.

[Wynken]

The bar wasn’t overly crowded and Wynken, in his remote corner, was the closest patron to the oddly dressed man. He sat facing the bar, affording Wynken only a view of his long black hair. As he spoke, Wynken could see Sid’s face which showed signs of trepidation and incredulity. However, the sound of the man’s voice was lost amidst the constant banter of Vincent and his lackeys.

As Sid gave his final reply, Wynken was thankful that he had left his cowl up as it acted like a funnel, capturing the sound and directing it in to his ears. The few hushed words that could be distinguished were enough to reverse engineer the entire conversation. Ever the opportunist, Wynken’s mind raced through various scenarios seeking that which would be most efficient and beneficial.

Observing the man from the back, Wynken shared in Sid’s disbelief. His pristine ivory coat displayed not a single scuff. A spell caster perhaps, Wynken considered as the man sat in visible confidence. I’ll merely watch his actions until my role becomes apparent. Wynken decided that if he were to involve himself in the coming affairs, it would be on the winning side…regardless of the outcome.

[Ivory Evil]

"What's this clown looking at?!" Saber asked his crew causing all of them to look towards Van.

"Maybe he fancies himself the rugged man hands of a smuggler." Vincent joked nudging the bulky muscular shoulders of Saber. The rest of the guys laughed and turned back to their drinks but Saber still kept his eyes on Van.

"You got a problem buddy?" Saber yelled over the banter that filled the cluttered bar.

Van didn't answer. He just wore the same handsome smile that had gotten him into so many bar room brawls in the past.

"Excuse me guys," Saber rose from the counter side seat and started to walk in Van's direction. "I'm going to give this maggot a lesson in manners!"

Vincent and company watched as their comrade walked across the busy room to meet with his antagonist. The light that hit his face revealed a hint of anger and violence. Upon arriving to Van's table Saber was met with menacing smile and an invitation.

"Take a load off pal..." Van extended his right arm in the direction of the vacant chair in front of him. "This table does sit two!"

"I don't know what you're thinking man or what type of impression you get from me..." The anger and impatience in Saber's voice was starting to become more obvious.

"All I did was offer you a seat"

"You've been looking our way all night stranger. Obviously you either don't know who we are or you're just stupid, but trust me you don't want trouble!"

"What's all this I hear about trouble. That's what everyone here says, that I don't want trouble..." Van lowered the shades that hid his crimson eyes, "trouble is exactly what I want."

Before Saber could respond Van had gotten up and grabbed him by the hair. With all the strength he could muster, Van pushed the thick skull of Saber to the table. Quickly he removed a small steel dart from his breast pocket and pushed it to Saber's temple.

"Now this is what I call trouble!" Van shouted alerting everyone in the bar. "If your friends over there take one step in this direction I'm going to lodge this piece of steel into your brain, buddy!"

"You just made the biggest mistake of your short insignificant life you maggot..."

"You know I don't think that's any way to address the man that's about to rip through your temple."

Saber's friends began to stand but the alcohol in their blood stream was obviously now taking it's toll. They put far to much effort into rising from their bar stools.

This is going to be too easy!

[Wynken]

Wynken chuckled to himself as he watched the man go to work. A little brash for my taste. A blend of courage, confidence, and crazy that's sure to get him killed. Inconspicuously, he toyed with the cold steel grip of a throwing blade which was tucked away in a sheath sewn into his cloak. He could end this now, easily putting the dagger into the man's back. I'd be unlikely to see any reward, he noted, biding his time.

[Ivory Evil]

The cocksure leader of the group, Vincent, spoke his piece first. His words were muffled under the alcohol he was trying to force back down his throat. The brash actions of Van had obviously startled the man.

"Now what the hell do you think your doing?!" Vincent questioned stumbling still from the consumption of to much liquor.

"You must be Vincent.." Van pressed the sharp point of his dart further into the temple of Saber, now drawling blood. "If you take one step closer you might as well say good bye to your boyfriend!"

"Don't listen Vincent, gut this maggot!" Saber squirmed under the pressure of the cold steel inching deeper into his skull.

"You know you could get a bit more original... On the insult front at least!" Van interjected.

Around the once cramped bar their now stood only a few patrons. Their watchful eyes shifting between Vincent's crew and the cocky ivory clad Van. Everyone was silent except for the parties involved in the altercation.

"You don't have a clue man! Do you honestly think you can kill one of us and get out of this bar?" Vincent asked withdrawing a long iron sword of questionable quality from the sheath at his side. "Even if you do somehow, by chance get through every one of us, almost every patrolman in Scara Brae is under our payroll! Face it, you're a dead man!"

Van loosened his grip on the steel dart and looked down at Saber. He wondered if his choices had been to brash. There were so many different scenario's passing through his head that could have made this an easier task. In the end he had chosen his path and was ready to stick to it.

Well look's like I'm dying tonight! The smile on his face was spreading from ear to ear.

"Than come get me!" Van lodged the dart into Saber's temple killing him instantly. Vincent and his crew started to charge and that's when all hell broke loose.

[Wynken]

Wynken watched carefully as the patrons slowly made their way from the establishment. All eyes which remained were held steadfast upon Vincent and Van as they faced off with one another from across the bar. Each moment lingered as if it were a memory, snapshots of time recalled along with the notion that they once moved, and the seconds felt as hours as they both stood in silence. Neither of them knew how to proceed, and Wynken found himself amused by Van’s phenomenal lack of foresight.

He listened as Vincent mentioned his cooperation with the local patrolmen. ’He could be bluffing’, he considered, but the way that the bar had emptied made him believe. He still had an open shot at Van’s back, but doubted Vincent would spare any of his wealth for such a favor. Van was outnumbered, and would be sorely pressed to escape this alive even without Wynken flanking him.

’Dead men have no need for riches’, was his final conclusion as Wynken evaluated the situation. ’If he’s wealthy enough to bribe officers than he will certainly leave plenty behind when he goes. Perhaps there’s also a reward or some bounty to be earned for this ‘maggot’ and his lackeys’, Wynken grinned at his silent mockery of the silly looking band. ’Someone in this city will be pleased when his corruption and bribe money are ceased’.

With that Wynken slowly rose to his feet, drawing two throwing blades as he set his feet underneath him. In the instant that it took him to gain his footing, Van had plunged his dart into Saber’s skull. Wynken let a blade fly quickly followed by the second, but he hadn’t anticipated the group’s sudden charge. He hadn’t known that Van would kill his hostage and the only leverage they had in the altercation.

His first dagger swiftly crossed the room sailing just off Van’s side and into Vincent. He had taken only a step or two, but it was enough to disrupt the blade’s rotation. It slammed grip first into his forehead, continuing its momentum to leave another small nick further up the man’s skull before bouncing to the floor. The second blade stuck but hit higher than Wynken’s intended mark, catching Corvan in his left breast likely narrowly missing his heart.

Both men faltered and Vicent fought hard to maintain his balance. The large depression above his right eye dripped blood down his face, and the concussion from the blow mingled with the confusion he suffered from heavy drinking. He was stunned, confused, and had the worst headache of his life, but he would survive. Corvan would also, but not under such favorable circumstances. He gasped for air which the shocking blast had stolen from his lungs, and he gripped the painful wound in his chest.

Wynken drew his long sword and another throwing blade. He had noted that the man on Vincent’s other side was a spellcaster, and, though he had no clear shot at the moment, Wynken thought to use his last ranged weapon to break the cadence of any words of power. He maintained a defensive stance, moving out from the restriction of his corner seat but remaining behind Van to ensure he would be the first line of melee offense. Wynken desired to observe the prowess of not only their immediate opponents, but also the man in ivory.

[Ivory Evil]

The once cramped room was now empty around the bickering foes. Even Sid the bartender fled to the back room not expecting the ivory maniac to turn his bar into a mad house. Before Van knew it there were blades flying, one almost finding it's place into his skull. Luckily for Van both soaring blades hit his opponents, but neither were lethal.

Van wanted to thank whoever threw them but there wasn't time for that now. There wasn't time for anything really and his unseen savior would have to be thanked later. Right now it was time to fight and Van saw the opportunity to do just that.

He quickly withdrew his katana from it's white sheath and waved it in front of his flawless smile. The pitted face of stumbling Vincent would be his first target. Within moments Van spanned the distance between him and his prey. But before he could connect with Vincent he was met with a long iron sword that sent a shock wave through his body. Van couldn't move, he was stunned from the enchanted sword that Vincent was now raising to deliver a finishing blow.

Time seemed to freeze for Van as the strike from Vincent was coming closer. For some strange reason Van couldn't move, his nervous system was shot.

Hell at least this won't hurt! Van thought, unable to even lift his sword to block the advancing blade of Vincent.

Just as Van's life was beginning to flash before his eyes he snapped out of his stunned state. With amazing speed he dodged the death blow from Vincent by retreating backwards.

Well looks like I'm gonna have to avoid this jokers blade.

Behind Vincent was Corvan still crouched over being assisted by his brother Al. Next to the brothers was Franz who seemed to now be conjuring a spell but seemed to be having difficulty.

A few feet from Vincent, Van grabbed another dart from his pocket this time letting it fly. Van wasn't a marksman by any means, but this close to his opponent he didn't need to be. The dart lodged itself into Vincent's chest forcing him to pause his advance. Van would now have a moment to formulate a game plan.

[Wynken]

Al looked up from tending Corvan’s wound and glared past Van to his brother’s assailant. The love and admiration he had for his older sibling was evidenced by the distress in his face which quickly dissolved into anger. Wynken matched the hatred in those eyes and smirked as the man drew a dagger into each hand. Abandoning his brother, Al stalked in to claim revenge.

With a gaudy but powerful overhand swing, Wynken released his last throwing blade. Al instinctually ducked, raised his hands in defense, and watched through squinted eyes as the missile flew wide to his left. He breathed a sigh of relief, knowing his brother to be behind and to the right, but still he quickly glanced along the projectile’s path. In his peripheral he saw Franz fall to his knees, the blade lodged firmly in his throat and quite effectively disrupting his spell.

As Wynken replaced the blade with his main-gauche, Al surrendered to his rage and rushed forward.