A Dicovery and an Invitation

[Quentin Boone]

The tavern was an absolute dive, but this suited Quentin just fine. The ale was cheap, if watered down and warm, the keep let him drink as much as he wanted, the wenches had a ready smile and nobody bothered him. The mercenary was probably far too drunk to even notice the occasional pools of blood, piss and spilled ale. He certainly wouldn't notice the stickiness of the floor where it hadn't been cleaned for weeks.

Among the thieves, beggars, murders and general no-good rabble that filled the tavern, most had some kind of pipe to their mouth, sending tendrils of thick smoke into the air, casting the tavern in a foggy darkness that the scant few candles barely penetrated. This was certainly not a happy, pleasant place; the people here had very little money and their poverty showed in rough, dirty clothes that didn't fit, unkempt beards, knotted hair and a most unpleasant odour. After all, when you have to fight for scraps of bread, hygiene isn't a priority.

Thankfully for him, Quentin sat alone in a dark, damp corner of the tavern slowly drowning in his inebriation. He had no interest in the people here, but this was the kind of tavern rich lords would send their servants to in search of some brute to carry out dirty work. Kidnappings, murders, robberies were all things beneath those of nobility, yet they paid handsomely to get one of the 'lesser folk' to do them. Quentin was a mercenary with a reputation for cruelty, and when nervous skinny servants entered, they would notice the huge bulk of muscle, send him word of jobs with a forward payment - most of the time - which Quentin would either take with the job, or steal. Whichever way, this was a good place to get rich, if you knew what you were doing.

Even in his stupor, Quentin looked at the crowd with disdain - not a single strong fighter could be seen. No chance of a brawl today. He picked up the pewter tankard, emptied it, slammed it onto the rough wooden table and shouted his demand, "More ale!"

The slurred speech of this massive man bellowed over the noise of the crowd. A few moments later, a fat young serving wench nervously brought Quentin another tankard and placed it on the table. He threw her a single coin, "Not tha' it's worth it, I've pissed be'er ale. A' least yer a pre'y un, huh?"

As the drunk slapped the young woman's backside, she offered a pleasant smile. Well, forced one to show on her face. Working in a place like this granted its workers seemingly endless patience. The smile was enough to satisfy Quentin for now, and as she walked away, he emptied the tankard down his throat, slammed it on the table and shouted his demand, "More ale!"

[Silence Sei]

The door hit the bell hanging slightly above the frame. Several faces turned to see the new customer in the establishment. Eyes filled with fear, sighs of relief escaped from the waitresses, and feet shuffled quickly out of the door. The chilling blue eyes of the new patron seemed to quiet the hushed whispers being sent through the bar. This man took several steps, each foot falling softly on the ground. He sat down at a table a few feet away from the man known as Quentin, where he raised a hand and motioned for one of the waitresses to come forward.

One of the girls was brave enough to comply with the command, her heels clicking against the hardwood floor. He looked the lady up and down, taking note of the corset she was probably wearing under her dress. He made sure to not look at the frills situated in such a way that the clothing highlighted her cleavage, instead focusing on the fish net stockings, and the red and black striped design of the dress, stopping just above the knee. He motioned with his fingers that he wanted a drink upon his table, to which the girl nodded and temporarily left the man's company, her hands trembling from the short encounter.

The man unraveled a rolled up piece of parchment, reaching into the inside of his grey karate gi and pulling out several odd looking blue and red blocks. He meticulously placed the blocks all around the parchment, which resembled a map of Concordia. His icy blue gaze was still positioning the pieces when the server came back, a clean glass of milk set just beyond the parchment, resting itself upon a coaster on the table. More patrons shuffled their way out the door, doing their best not to catch the attention of this particular man. The bartender looked towards Quentin, the look of his scraggly face being one of admiration. He slowly walked over to the man, leaning down towards Quentin and speaking to him.

"Don't you know who that is?" his voice was typically a deep baritone, made wavering by the arrival of the new guest, "that's Sei Orlouge. Anybody with shady dealings would leave right now if they knew what was good for them..." His words came off as more of a statement of fact than an actual threat.

[Quentin Boone]

Just as yet another tankard of ale was placed on his table, Quentin noticed the tavern go quiet. He paid it little mind and emptied his tankard, handed over two coins and demanded another drink.

What caught his attention, however, was the newcomer who sat nearby. He looked different to the other patrons of the tavern; a little more refined, self-sure. A peculiar man to be in such a place. However, as his vision blurred again, Quentin turned towards the bar to see where his drink was. The bartender leaned in then and gave his warning. Quentin ignored it, grabbing the tankard from his scrawny mits and downing it. He belched loudly as he slammed the tankard onto the table a little more fiercely. "Ya really think I give a shit 'bout some orange haired weirdo? Look a' 'is drink - milk! Pah!"

Wavering a little in his chair, Quentin moved his hand to grip the hilt of his sword, "Maybe 'e'll gi' me a decent fight, eh!"

He laughed raucously, struggling not to let his words overtake each other, "The a'mighter of Radasanth Protecty suppin' milk! Gemme 'noth drin', fool!"

Quentin tried standing from his chair, intending to instigate a fight with the Dragon of Drantrak. Instead, his legs wobbled halfway to standing and he fell rather unceremoniously back on the chair with a sharp bump. "What... say... bloody... hero." The sudden fall made Quentin's body waver side to side as he felt a sudden dizziness and his words became almost entire incomprehensible.

The bar tender decided it best not to get Quentin another drink - after all, the mercenary hadn't yet paid for his last drink.

[Silence Sei]

Sei had been too immersed in his work to pay attention to the drunken ramblings of a man who could not even speak properly. His glacier eyes shifted back and forth, carefully moving his colored blocks in different ways, his mind running the scenarios through his head. The telepath had always come to taverns in order to calculate his strategies; it was the one place where anyone inside would remain quiet enough for the orange haired warrior to think. The Mystic bit his lower lip and moved all of the red pieces around the outskirts of the drawn Concordia forest, placing the blue blocks right in the middle, where Underwood was located.

The Knights are better equipped for guerilla tactics should we be surrounded in this way, he thought carefully to himself, we would still suffer a large amount of casualties though. This is not acceptable. Have to find some way to keep the Concordia borders secured. He had been preparing for weeks for an attack that quite possibly would never come to Corone. Ever since his daughter had read off a prophecy within his tomb, Sei had tried to fulfill the words therein almost completely by himself. He was thriving and flourishing the good name of the Ixian Knights, the group he created with the other eight souls destined to save the world.

Now, he had fired one of the eight generals, another was suffering a terrible bout of amnesia, and he had not heard any word on four of them. It seemed that only Zerith Dracosius and Duffy Bracken were the only people who knew the true meaning of loyalty. Ironic considering the first time that Sei had met Duffy, he had decapitated him during the Cell. Perhaps it was war that brought those two closer together? This thought caused the Mystic to reach back into his gi, withdrawing a single envelope marked with the official Corone Empire seal. He did not have to read the letter within to know what the printing would say. Every year, all six Orlouge brothers were invited to the Serenti Invitational, located south of Concordia forest, and every year, each brother rejected in their own way.

He set the letter down and wrapped his hand around his milk, putting the drink to his lips while continuing to look at his map. Around this time, Sei's ears caught the sound of several bar stools toppling over, as well as a loud thud from the ground. The mute shifted his gaze towards the source, looking at the man who challenged him to a fight in here. Putting the lives of so many innocents at risk was detestable, and the man had fallen into his chair while causing several more to fall to the ground. The least he could have done was offer to pick them back up.

Sei said nothing, shifting his blue orbs back towards his map. Fighting drunks was a bouncer's job, not a hero's.

[Quentin Boone]

Still wavering in his chair, Quentin reached over to grab one of the empty tankards on the round table; several attempts later - his hand-eye co-ordination was skewed - he managed to grasp the handle. Taking what the thought would be another drink, he mumbled something when not a trickle of ale poured into his mouth. Rather than putting the tankard back on the table, he threw it in the general direction of one of the serving girls, a pretty little thing wearing a red and black dress. "'Ere wench, I said ge' me 'nother drin!"

His voice still bellowed and was barely understandable, but the new quiet of the tavern had been disturbed. The eyes of the few people who remained after Sei entered turned to the darkened corner, looking both surprised and fearful at the image of Quentin which now was beginning to clear as pipesmoke dissipated without being renewed. Whispers spread throughout the tavern, "Is he mad?" "What a fool?" "Doesn't he know the Avatar is here?"

The bar tender that had given Quentin the warning stopped the girl from getting the mercenary another drink, and it took a few minutes for Quentin to realise. Again he mumbled a few choice words, before his eyes began to close.

[Silence Sei]

The next sound to resonate through the bar came from Sei's chair. The Mystic had finally had enough of the rude behavior behind this drunken man's antics. It was fairly obvious that if this tavern had a bouncer in its employ, he was not doing his job very well. He took several steps towards Quentin, watching as the inebriated man fought to stay awake. The Mystic crossed his arms and waited for the man to realize that he now had Sei's full attention, only to find Quentin not opening his eyes again. The hushed whispers of the crowd called for bets, mostly about how long it would take for the passed out man to be knocked out on his knickers.

"Excuse me," Sei spoke only to the man before him, the 'voice' of the telepath causing his target to shoot his eyes open, "that is not the proper way to talk to a lady. I do believe you owe her an apology." For all the Mystic knew, this woman's job requirements consisted of bedding with men for money, but Quentin's attitude toward her was still completely inappropriate in such a setting. All of the patrons watched, for as far as they knew, Sei was just starring at the drunk before him.

He moved his arm towards his table, his way of offering the man a seat. Sei was not the type to go to the blade when things began to get heated. Rather, he was one that would have taken a more diplomatic approach to potentially explosive situations. The fumes of booze reeking on both Quentin’s clothes and body were enough to make most men cower, but Sei had went through this kind of thing before. Anita, his daughter, had been a recovering alcoholic for three years now, and the mute could still remember the fights he had with the girl to keep her from seeking solace in the bottom of a bottle.

"I would like for you to sit with me. Let us talk about the way you treat people," Sei's voice was calm, but threatening. He needed to get the point across that he was not actually asking the rude Quentin for his company, rather demanding it. "I will even buy you a drink."

[Quentin Boone]

The damned weirdo was stood in front of Quentin now, and giving him a rather sound talking to. Having been called back from the edges of sleep, the larger man blinked a few times in confusion as his swaying recommenced. All of a sudden his head felt very heavy, but as it began to fall towards the table, the ale-slowed mind of Quentin registered that Sei had offered to buy him a drink. "W... y... d..."

Being both as drunk as he was and half-asleep, the words of the mercenary made even less sense as he muttered what was probably an agreement to the other's invite to sit with him. Rather than trying to stand fully upright, Quentin places his hands on the table, kept his back bent and stumbled to where Sei had been sitting. A few stumbles over fallen stools later, and Quentin landed heavily on a bench at the Hero's table to the rattle of several blocks. To try keeping his balance, Quentin had bumped into the table, knocking off the red and blue markers, which may or may not have been for the best: As soon as he sat down, Quentin's head hit the parchment and he started once again to fall asleep.

Only this time, the world had started to spin. He felt sick.

[Silence Sei]

When Quentin made his way to the mute's table, Sei followed suit. The silent feet of the Mystic was a stark contrast to the bumbling of the man before him. Quentin fell into his chair, his head swaying to an unheard rhythm several times before falling on the mute's map and letting his drowsiness overtake him once more. Sei shook his head, but motioned for the waitress to bring a drink over to them. The mute may have been an intimidating force, but he was true to his word.

The waitress did indeed bring a drink, another glass of white milk, bits of ice frosted over the exterior of the glass, while a fine fume flowed out of it. Sei reached into his gi, withdrawing a few coins from is interior pocket and handing them to the server. It would have been enough to cover not only Sei's drinks, but at least half of what Quentin had probably downed that night as well. The mute then proceeded to kneel down and pick up his blocks, sitting down once the job was finished and setting them to the side of the map.

He watched Quentin sleep for a few minutes, trying his best to stop from gagging at the rancid smell of several stills all put into one body. Why had the tender not stopped serving this man sooner? Rowdy drunks were one thing, but this guy was a complete mess. Sei raised his hand up into the air, snapping his fingers several times in an attempt to awaken Quentin once more. "Your drink has arrived, good sir."

[Quentin Boone]

As the fingers snapped above Quentin's head, his bloodshot eyes opened slowly accompanied by a long groan. His eyes focused as he heard that another drink had been delivered, but drunken rage flared for a moment as he noticed that the drink was a glass of milk. Quentin swung his arm at the glass, sending it flying through the air, to crash against the back of a chair a couple of tables away. The milk and broken glass covered the sticky floor, and the person who was sat on the chair turned around. When the clean shaven but dirty man in green saw Sei, he quickly turned back round, hunching subconsciously in hopes he'd not been noticed.

Slowly Quentin lifted his head just enough to look straight into the eyes of the Mystic. "Wha' the hell wa' tha'? I'nt no child. If yer gerring drink ale!"

He slammed his fist on the table in anger, offended that someone would think he'd drink milk. With considerable effort, Quentin rose, knocking over his chair in the process, only to stumble after a couple of steps onto a table. He'd fallen face-first, his head resting on the dirty wooden surface and knees on the floor. In what he considered a final act of defiance, Quentin taunted the Hero of Radasanth. "Tha' last form'tion'll be yer end, bloody flank's a li'bil'ty! HA!"

And with that, he passed out where he was.

[Silence Sei]

Sei watched the temper tantrum that his recent company displayed before him. The violent act caused a small uproar from the few voices from what was left of the patronage. This man was vulgar, rude, and outright appaling in the way he carried himself. It was almost too much for even Sei Orlouge to bear. What hope could this lost soul have had of seeking redemption when he did not even want it for himself?

Then, Quentin made the mention of Sei's weak flank. Out of all the insults the man could have thrown towards the Avatar of Alerar, calling one of his tactics weak was perhaps the greatest one. Sei narrowed his eyes at the sleeping man, shifting his eyes towards the blocks to confirm if what the drunk had said was true. His eyes widened as he realized that the observation had indeed been correct. The Mystic had been so concerned concentrating his forces towards Akashima to the east, that he had never thought about solidifying Gisela in the west. While the mute was confident that an assault from Gisela was unlikely, the sheer fact that his enemies could travel around Concordia, through the roads leading past Serenti, and into Gisela would indeed leave the Ixian Knights outnumbered on their weakest front.

There was this Quentin's redemption. The man was a complete drunkard, but even clouded by intoxication, he seemed to posses a brilliant mind. Sei bit his lower lip, his eyes shifting over to the sealed envelope beside the map. Orlouges did not typically participated in the Serenti Invitational, but there was nothing that said that an Orlouge could not have a represenative. Sei looked towards the bartender, sending him a request for paper and a pen. The objects were quickly brought to Sei, who sat down once more and began to write....

When Quentin would wake up, he would find Sei gone, as well as his map and blocks. In his stead, the Serenti Invitational envelope, and a letter, the hand writing made in a cursive, flowery like fashion.


Quentin Boone,

Yes good sir, I found out your name through the bartender. Your advice about my western flank has caused me to reconsider the positioning of my troops in Concordia. As a thanks for your help, I have left you with an invitation to the Serenti Invitational, to fight in my stead. This is a huge task that I have left with you, and one I must attach a condition to. since you will be representing me in the tournament, I must ask that you resist temptation and avoid any sort of alcohol until your run in the tournament comes to a close. It is my hope that you will take the Serenti Invitational, but if you should fall, at least you can say that you gave it your all, and were sober the entire run. I have the utmost faith that you can live up to my expectations. Do not let me down, Mr. Boone.

Sincerely,
Sei Orlouge

And so the current generation of warrior sent his hopes to the past...

[Quentin Boone]

It was several hours later when Quentin finally awoke to a pounding headache and a cotton-like mouth. His knees were wet, feet numb and his back hurt all as a result of the position he had fallen asleep in. Slowly raising his head was a real effort and even the scant candlelight was too bright, but he did notice a letter on the table. He made what felt like a gargantuan effort to stand up and sit himself on an uncomfortable wooden stool, then put his head in his hands as he tried to clear his mind.

The sound of glass touching the wooden table made Quentin open his eyes once more and he saw a glass of milk in front of him; ice cold and fresh, it looked like heaven! As quickly as he could, the mercenary downed the near-freezing drink, ignoring the tinges the cold caused to his teeth - it was great to have moisture back in his mouth again.

"Um, Master Orlouge t-told me to give you that drink w-when you woke up. Don't fret, h-he's paid for it." The serving girl in the red and black dress spoke nervously to Quentin, she still remembered his attitude while Sei was in the tavern. At a feeble attempt to wave her away, a mere fingers' twitch, from Quentin, she happily left the man's presence. She kept a cautious eye on him, as did all the other staff, as he picked up the letter and started reading the flowery script.

Quentin's eyes bulged as he read who had written the letter and memories slowly returned to him. Tha' was Sei?! I coulda been killed! Wha' an idiot! He then opened the invitation letter, read it and sighed. A tournament of some of the greatest warriors in the world, and he was to represent the Avatar of Alerar! Without getting drunk? Dropping the two letters, Quentin placed his head in his hands once more. In just a couple more hours, he would leave for this tournament in Serenti; he just needed to wake up properly first!

[Amen]

A Discovery and an Invitation

Plot Construction – 15/30

Story – 4/10

Don’t take this first score to mean you did anything wrong here. This thread is obviously supposed to lead us into a larger story (Quentin’s experiences in the Serenti), so it reads more like a prologue than a full, stand-alone story. If you guys were pointedly going for a strong score in story, I’d need to see more in the way of rising action and a compelling climax.

Strategy – 5/10

This is essentially a chance meeting in a bar, so there isn’t really much movement driven by anything. Nothing wrong with that. The point of this thread was the conclusion and you both do a good job of using who your characters are to move toward your goal.

Setting – 6/10

Quentin, you did a good job of crafting the tavern in the first post. If there’s anything I would tell you to focus on, it’s “show don’t tell.” For example, your first sentence in the thread was “The tavern was an absolute dive,” which is telling and less-good. Your next few sentences SHOW me that the tavern was a dive, which is excellent. This comes up more than once throughout the thread. The best way to go about this is to first know the tavern is a dive yourself, then say “How can I get my reader to say ‘wow, that tavern was a dive’ without saying that it was?” You’re absolutely capable of doing that, because you painted the picture of a dive, you just said “Here’s a picture of a dive” before you showed it to me. Trust your reader!

On that note, and this is relevant to both of you, keep your setting in mind after the first time you describe it. You don’t want to bomb your reader with information in your first post and then ignore the scene for the rest. Remind me of the temperature, of the sound of wood scraping on wood, of the smell of spilled ale.

Characterization – 17/30

Continuity – 6/10

Everything made sense to me. Sei’s mind was on the larger goings-on for his Ixian Knights, and Quentin was wrapped up in his own thuggish lifestyle, everything felt believably Althanas. I'm assuming this takes place in Corone for a number of reasons, so it might have been prudent to mention the ongoing war (Sei's planning seemed more related to the prophecy around which the Ixian Knights were founded, so I assumed his mind was on that and not on the war).

Interaction – 6/10

Again, everything made sense here. The tavern staff reacted about the way you’d expect them to react to a large drunken fellow. I like that the bar cleared out when Sei walked in, and Sei’s do-gooder-ness really comes through in how he views the waitresses and Quentin. How does the proprietor feel about his bar clearing out every time Sei walks in, though? Is he relieved to lose some of the criminal element, or bitter because he's losing paying customers?

Character – 5/10

Quentin, you definitely have your character’s actions down pat. This is the very image of a boisterous blackout drunk. My mental image of him is lacking by a fair bit, though – I get that he’s large and intimidating, but not much else.

Writing Style – 23/30

Creativity – 5/10

Quentin’s inebriated dialogue really stood out for me here. I smiled. Try to extend your attention to verisimilitude to other facets of your character, and then to the NPCs that appear, and you'll be golden.

Mechanics – 8/10

Well done here, both of you. Sei, I caught a few very minor errors (one misspelled word and one instance where “I” wasn’t capitalized, off the top of my head). Otherwise, beautiful.

Clarity – 10/10

Again, well done. This wasn’t just an easy read, it was a pleasant one. I read it all the way through in one sitting, never had to reread anything, and nothing struck me as being odd or confusing.

Wildcard - 6/10

I enjoyed this. I look forward to reading your stuff in the Serenti, Quentin, as I’m sure Sei does.

Total: 61

Quentin Boone gains 400 EXP and 95 GP.
Silence Sei gains 775 EXP and 80 GP.

[Letho]

EXP/GP added.