Neville Longinus
03-08-10, 10:24 AM
Closed To BattleMage.
In a town in Corone, along one of the main highways between Gisela and Radasanth, Neville Longinus was heading to the bar after a hard day's work. With only the night sky to keep him company, he couldn't wait to get to the local pub and drown himself in as much alcohol as he could afford. Maybe he would even get lucky tonight with a fine lady. It was hard, back-breaking labor today. Sometimes there weren't enough merc jobs to go around, so he had to do an odd job or two to keep himself afloat. He wandered around the countryside, sometimes finding some bone-a-fied jobs and other times not. He enjoyed every place his visited, taking in the sights and just enjoying his life that lacked responsibility. Someday he would have to wake up from this dream, but that day was not today. The town was filled with houses and a rousing trade district, but none of that mattered to him as he entered the swinging doors of his home: The bar. Since he spent so much time here, it might as well have been his home. Some might call him an alcoholic, but he was perfectly capable of going without a drink: He just chose not to.
He decided to take a seat at the booth, asking for some fine brandy from the bartender. It was unusually active tonight, as a local military regiment was enjoying some time off. They had half the bar allocated for their unit and were plugging away, getting drunk off their asses. Neville noted how wasted they looked, thinking that military boys couldn't hold their drinks. He was once like that too, but that was short-lived. He served some time in his hometown's local militia but left as soon as his term was up. It reeked of alcohol and smoke in the air, with many of the usual patrons lamenting having to share their time with the military.
It made no difference to Neville. He asked for a shot glass and downed a shot in one gulp like it was nothing. If given the chance, he could definitely show those kids a thing or two about enjoying booze.
In a town in Corone, along one of the main highways between Gisela and Radasanth, Neville Longinus was heading to the bar after a hard day's work. With only the night sky to keep him company, he couldn't wait to get to the local pub and drown himself in as much alcohol as he could afford. Maybe he would even get lucky tonight with a fine lady. It was hard, back-breaking labor today. Sometimes there weren't enough merc jobs to go around, so he had to do an odd job or two to keep himself afloat. He wandered around the countryside, sometimes finding some bone-a-fied jobs and other times not. He enjoyed every place his visited, taking in the sights and just enjoying his life that lacked responsibility. Someday he would have to wake up from this dream, but that day was not today. The town was filled with houses and a rousing trade district, but none of that mattered to him as he entered the swinging doors of his home: The bar. Since he spent so much time here, it might as well have been his home. Some might call him an alcoholic, but he was perfectly capable of going without a drink: He just chose not to.
He decided to take a seat at the booth, asking for some fine brandy from the bartender. It was unusually active tonight, as a local military regiment was enjoying some time off. They had half the bar allocated for their unit and were plugging away, getting drunk off their asses. Neville noted how wasted they looked, thinking that military boys couldn't hold their drinks. He was once like that too, but that was short-lived. He served some time in his hometown's local militia but left as soon as his term was up. It reeked of alcohol and smoke in the air, with many of the usual patrons lamenting having to share their time with the military.
It made no difference to Neville. He asked for a shot glass and downed a shot in one gulp like it was nothing. If given the chance, he could definitely show those kids a thing or two about enjoying booze.