The Dragon and Tiger (Crystal Sword hunt)

[Ryujin]

What are you hoping to find, Ryujin?

A question that was no more or less valid than the last time he asked it of himself. “Your purpose in life is to find your purpose and give your whole heart and soul to it” is a philosophy that is incredibly disheartening to a man who once had a purpose but had it stripped from him. Well, stripped might not be the right way to describe the truth of it; bled slowly would be more accurate but it didn’t matter, the end of the story was the same no matter which way you interpreted it. This particular story concluded in a poorly maintained tavern within the fluid borders of Etheria, the southernmost Alerian port city that was well-known for its trade routes with the southern isles.

This wasn’t his home. In fact, this was just another stop on his wandering through life. He hadn’t spent any more time in Etheria than he had any of the other countless cities and towns he’s passed through in the last few years. This was just where Ryujin currently existed. His existence was seated on a wobbly barstool that was gifted with one leg shorter than the other which left him constantly hunched over in a position that he was less than comfortable with in fear that the stool would give out from under him if he leaned too far back. The white cloth that made up the hood that wrapped about his head was pulled down low on his forehead to shade his eyes from a specifically nasty beam of light shining in on him through one of the smeared glass windows at the opposite end of the tavern. It was like the world knew that he had whittled most of the night away at that counter and was punishing him for not doing something productive – or getting sleep.

There was nothing special about this tavern he was drowning himself in. The ambiance was reminiscent of a moldy cellar crossed with an orc dungeon, the ale was warm and tasted poorly, and the barkeep couldn’t pour a consistent pint to save his life. It was a dive, all things considered, mostly populated by those who were in port long enough for the wares of their shipping boats to get unloaded. That isn’t to say that it wasn’t also inhabited by locals; many of the seats on either side of Ryujin were taken by dark-skinned elves that were just ending or starting their days on the docks. It wasn’t much but it was where it was at and he couldn’t seem to find much inspiration to leave.

“Oy, did ya hear about the man-tiger?” said a voice above the clamoring commotion that commonly filled a tavern. Judging from the location and clarity of the voice, the man couldn’t be sitting more than a few feet behind Ryujin, likely at a table.

“What’re ya talkin’ bout? Man-tiger? There’s no such thing ‘round these parts,” replied another man.

“Is so! Heard it from a couple of th’ boys who traveled down the coast. Said they saw it lurkin’ about the crags north of the black sands. Y’know which ones I’m talking ‘bout? Big reward fer anyone man ‘nuff to take ‘im down.”

“Yeah, yeah, but man-tiger, I don’t think so. We’re too cizil… civel… civiledized…” The man struggled to find and pronounce the right word.

“Civilized,” Ryujin said before taking another drink of his piss-warm brew.

“Yeah, civilized! We’re too civilized out here t’have man-tigers running ‘round. Wait…” the jumbled man paused before turning in his seat to face Ryujin. The monk could feel the man’s eyes burrowing into his back. “Ya eavesin’ in on our talkin’? Don’t ya know who we are, boy? We’re men of the Black Sails! Ya don’t get ta listen in on our con… conva…”

“Conversation,” Ryujin finished the thought for the pirate.

As world traveled as Ryujin was, he had never heard of the “the Black Sails” the eloquently spoken man referred to. He never spent long enough time in one place to learn of anything outside of what kind of swill they were serving up from the kegs.

“I think he’s ‘aving a laugh at ya, mate. Pissin’ on the way words come out yer mouth,” said the other, antagonizing the situation and no doubt riling up his companion. Ryujin sensed a confrontation coming, as clear as one would see storm clouds rolling in on the horizon before a rain.

Ryujin set his steel belted mug down on the warped and worn countertop before fishing out a few coin from a leather pouch secured within the confines of his robes. His coins clattered on the counter as he moved to stand, carefully navigating the tipping nature of the uneven barstool. He took up the walking staff leaning against the counter next to him, turned toward the two “gentlemen,” a stout, dirty faced dwarf and lanky dark elf, sitting behind him and offered them a single nod while moving toward the sole exit of the tavern. The two were quick to rise from their chairs and move to intercept his retreat. The odds weren’t very favorable with two against one.

“I apologize for the inconvenience. There doesn’t need to be any trouble.” His words seemed to come out rather flat. The monk loved a good fight but after taking a moment to look over the two who impeded his path and judging them by their raggedy clothes and poorly taken care of weapons, he had very little interest in fighting them. This was one quarrel he didn’t mind if he walked away from. “I’ll be on my way.”

As he took another step forward, the two of them took another step closer until they were standing shoulder to shoulder and effectively eliminated the space that once existed between them. His path to the door was completely gone.

“Ey, I don’t think so, boy. Ya see, ya offended my friend here and we can’t jus’ let ya walk away until ya make peace.” The both of them had found the handles of their swords in their own time. The way no one moved to intervene or give them the boot from the tavern led Ryujin to believe that these two might be a part of whatever law governed these parts. He was certainly just a few moments away of having his last few coins pilfered or taking a sword to gut and being left on the tavern floor for someone to come and clean up.

“I think it’s better for all of us if you just let me pass.” This was exhausting. He had given these men two chances to let him pass without incident. There was a part of him that was infuriated that he had given them that many. One by one, his fingers loosened their grip on his walking staff and stretched to their fullest before wrapping to the well-carved wood once again and securing a firm hold. Unseen beneath the many layers of his robes and partial armor, his muscles did the same; Ryujin was loose and fluid like water but when necessary, at any given notice, as unmovable as stone.

“Right. Let’s skewer this lil’ piggy, then!”

They had their chance. What happened next would only have clarity if it could have been witnessed in slow motion. The two made their move and unsheathed their curved blades in a staggered unison, and were able to hold onto them long enough to see them depart from their hands. Ryujin slid the butt of his walking staff along the gnarled plank of wood underneath the armed hand of one of the men, swiftly bringing it up once it was in position to take an accurate crack at the pommel of the sword. The precise force behind his blow sent the sword straight up and out of the scoundrel’s grip and into one of the crossbeams supporting the tavern roof.

While that sword was still vibrating uncertainly in its new home six feet above their heads, within the breadth of the same moment, Ryujin redirected the tip of his staff down along the backside of the other sword currently being raised to address him. While they battled to keep the man and his sword suppressed, the trained monk lashed out with a straight leopard punch into the meaty joint where sword arm met torso and drove his knuckles deep. The pain of the blow laced through the length of the antagonist’s arm and consequentially caused him to loosen his grip on his weapon long enough for Ryujin’s combating strength to overpower and disarm him.

Before they could comprehend or take another action, the robed warrior delivered the tip of his staff to the side of one’s head and then the other’s in turn. The strikes weren’t particularly strong but where they landed was true, and as a result, both dropped to the floor without the consciousness to support themselves.

All of this occurred within the time it would take someone to lift and take a quick, meaningless sip from their mug. It had ended before they could put their mugs down to enjoy the show. With them down, Ryujin stepped over their resting bodies and out the door without another word. The unsettled sword was still warbling in the wood above the remaining patrons.