KOBOLDS ... in a pub. Open tavern thread.

[Shinsou Vaan Osiris]

What the fuck is going on?

The faun's words, with their barbed tone, and the background noise of the tavern melted away into incomprehensible waves of white noise as I started to take stock of the mood in the room. When I came in here, the atmosphere was filled with that familiar tension that preceded just about every mass brawl I had ever witnessed. The Kobold leader had approached me, his aggression towards me not only brazen but arrogant in both its application and intent.

Naturally, the only course of action was a warning. When the warning wasn't heeded, I had to make my point physically. I thought I had been doing the place a favour, but the corrosive glares from the dwarven barmaid, Philomel and the Kobolds and then the conciliatory moves from Storm served to isolate me. Now, I felt like the only one in here who had done anything wrong.

Next time I'll let them beat the shit out of you all, then.

"An asshole?" I imagine my expression was somewhere between surprised and unimpressed, "I call it self defence. Firstly, this rabble turn up fully armed and that isn't a red flag? Secondly, I gave the chief a warning, and it wasn't heeded. That's on him, not me; I simply used the only language that aggressors like that can understand. When I came in here it looked as if it was going to kick off and I wanted them to think twice about it. Instead, I'm suddenly public enemy number one? Fuck that. I'm not apologising for not allowing this place to be walked all over."

It was then Philomel mentioned the Headbutt. I hadn't realised the implication of my little white lie - it wasn't actually Headbutt, just a "close representation" meant to impress her. But then it dawned on me that I might have accidentally laid the groundwork for all sorts of reaching questions.

I thought it best to explain before she thought I was treading on proud faun tradition.

"It's not pure headbutt - it's a "close representation" of it" I offered weakly, "There was no way I could have ever gotten hold of the real thing."

It was then that I did something I had never done before - I got up to leave. I felt with everything going on I had caused my fair share of offence for the night. But, just before I could scrape my chair back and get out of dodge, a familiar face parked himself at our table. He introduced himself as Jake Narmolanya, almost as if this were the first time we had ever met. Perhaps it was because the elf hadn't had direct contact with me during the gathering of the Crystal Swords, and I had been ejected from that god forsaken melee early by the power of the void, but he didn't seem to remember fighting alongside me that night.

I remembered him, though I didn't remember him owning such high quality clothes. Beautiful hide boots and jacket, with sifan trimmings for the rest of his outfit. A high roller, indeed. But from what I remember, his skills in battle were as fearsome as his attire was upmarket.

"Jake, huh?" I started, offering my hand, "My name is Shinsou Vaan Osiris. Joshua Cronen is a man I owe much to, and yet who asks so little of me in return. He is the true Thayneslayer."

I don't know why I tacked that on to the end. Perhaps it was guilt - to this day, Cronen would insist that I slayed Draconus, somehow believing that I would make a better arbiter than he. But that was a load of horseshit. I'd helped, but Cronen had struck the final blow. I deserved no such plaudits and felt admitting it to those who knew him would be penance for the lie that Cronen had, with the best of intent, perpetuated.