Asyrdar

The Insidious Night

guyvolk said
Your background mesmerizes and terrifies me

In all things eternal, there is cat

The Insidious Night

Yeah I dont even know how to change it lel

Doomed to forever rust

The Insidious Night

Oh god Im so rusty everything I touch gets tetanus

The Insidious Night

Rook listened to the exchange between Thaddeus and Edward without a word, idly rolling his dice between his fingers and sipping on a dwindling flagon of mead. He raised an eyebrow at the mention of Woodhaven. "Woodhaven, eh? I wonder if Lugo is still running that brewery. From the look on the kid's face, he probably isnt. I hope I didn't gamble my way into a bloodbath..."

He noticed others began to crowd around, pulling up chairs and sitting in with the three; Rook suspected they weren't just curious locals, either. Dwarves, elves, other companions that were mentioned by Thaddeus, but never properly introduced or even described. That was when Lila showed up; her disgust of Rook was an almost palpable feeling - as much as it amused him - and her curt, loveless greeting did nothing to shake the image.

"Hey there honeybomb, how was the ride? You should've gone on ahead with me, I showed the innkeep this coin trick right, made a silver disappear and pulled a gold from his ear, absolutely blew his mind Ive been sleeping on the softest bed since. I mean, it was his bed but, hey, he offered." He delivered the run-down of his arrival at a rapid-fire pace, laughing and throwing back the rest of his mead in one gulp before leaning in, his smile turning devilish. "You know, it got lonely at night, all that empty bed-space and whatnot..."

Her glare was venomous, but he quickly turned to the rest and opened his arms wide. "Welcome, welcome, to the lovely little bed of sin and failed ambition that is Merryspring. Okay no, its not actually that bad, things are quaint, people are nice. Not that we'll be here long, that is...." He turned to Thaddeus. "So, chief, what's the word? Ive been able to snag coin but very little info from the yokel-locals...not that I know what Im even looking for to begin with."

"This is Edward," Thaddeus explained. "He's why we're here."

Rook's grin faded a bit, and he set his jaw slightly as if in thought. "Ah." He noted the scimitar with a raised eyebrow. "Well, that aint human-made, no sir. And I dont think a single one of our bearded or pointy-eared friends here," he nodded to those gathered, "would be caught dead with a blade like that. Now, Im not a man to go back on my word, and I told you Id follow you...but Im gonna start needing some answers." He folded his arms and sat back in his chair, his face stony and neutral. He never once stopped passing the dice between his fingers. "Where are we going, what are we doing, and will the maidens weep with desire when they hear my name after our inevitable glorious victory?" Or horrifying massacre...some here look greener than the weed back home...

The Insidious Night

Ill get working on my next post tomorrow. Drinking for like 8 hours straight can get tiresome.

The Insidious Night

Yeah Im pretty much a rust golem. I havent written anything since 2010 or so

Well, anything narrative anyway. Ive been writing the outline of my book and making comments on books I read for a while now

The Insidious Night

"Come on Rook, I have a family to feed..."

"And feed them you shall. Just not with this coin, friend." Rook kept his smile neutral and disarming as he slipped a few small silver coins into his moneypouch. "Hell, if I'd known you were feeding that sweet daughter of yours lumps of silver, Id have come sooner."

The pudgy, weather-worn man frowned, confused. "No, I use the coin to bu-"

"I know what you use coin for, good man." His grin widened to something that could only be described as cocksure. "If there's anything I know well, its that. Now, Matthis my good citizen, are you going to bail on me early, or are we going to go another round?"

The back of the Galvanizing Spirit was a raucous affair, at least, as raucous as a small place like Merryspring could get. Men and women alike sat around sturdy oaken tables and benches, sloshing amber and dark ales from heavy mugs and recalling the events of the day. Rook had positioned himself near the hearth early in the evening, and had since been handily redistributing the town's wealth in his favor. Despite losing good coin, no resident could accuse the man of cheating - part of his bombastic dice-rolling ritual included handing them to the would-be player for this very purpose, to examine as closely as could be desired. It didnt mean that he was universally loved, however; some of the more superstitious townsfolk took the man's good luck as an ill omen - either he was something devilish given flesh, or the gods were surely ready to ruin him on a moment's notice.

Matthis sighed and sized Rook up. After a moment he puffed his chest out, determined. "Alright Rook, one more. Five silvers on evens."

Rook's eyes lit up as he began to twist and maneuver two small, tan dice between his fingers. To anyone who asked, they were always carved of something different - today it was ogre's teeth, some days its dragonbone, still others the dice are simply marble. In reality, Rook had no idea what they were made out of, and like anything else in his life, the mystery just served his wild stories far better than a real explanation ever could.

"And we have fiiiiive silvers on evens! Now as always, here are the dice...." Rook's smile could split his skull if he didnt watch it.

"Just roll them."

Producing a small wooden cup with his other hand, he showed the dice around the crowd one last time before throwing them in the cup, placing his hand over the opening, and shaking. "Evens, evens for this poor broke sod, eeeeveeeeensss...." He shut his eyes in mock prayer. "Lady luck be kind!" He announced loudly, removing his hand and pouring the dice across the table. For a brief moment, the noise coming from Rook's end of the inn hushed as most spectators held their breath. "...Maybe you should stick to farming, friend."

Odds.

The outcry was muffled somewhat by the sound of someone striding into the inn, and a brief glance told Rook that his fun was over. As it was, he had been traveling with Thaddeus, but he decided he would be more useful riding ahead of the man and ingratiating himself with the locals; peasants in these communities could be somewhat xenophobic, and he didnt reckon that they would know too much about the Watchful. Walking around and using fancy titles and gods-given authority is nice and all, but it hardly inspires the ignorant to your cause.

"Lost! Again! Nanette is going to kill me..." Matthis seemed to sink into his drink as the rest laughed it off or eyed Rook with a measure of fear and suspicion.

"The gods are fickle, my man. One day these dice will turn against me, and then its game over. However today...." And without another word, he scooped his newest 'earnings' into his money pouch, adjusted his bright scarlet headscarf, and sauntered over to the other side of the inn, where he could pull up a chair and join Thaddeus.

The Insidious Night

Well Rook is a man of diffusing situations and taking people off-guard with puns, so she may be able to look past the fact that he's gone and 'redistributed' everyone's wealth in his favor...

Okay maybe not :P

The Insidious Night

Name: Rook
Gender: Male
Age: 29
Race: Human

Appearance: While not unattractive, Rook is a man of fairly average stature, and would not stand out in a crowd were it not for his almost theatrical charm. A wild array of dyed head-scarves, almond brown eyes, and a soft smile distract from an otherwise rough demeanor, though it is impossible not to notice his 'once-too-many-times-broken' nose and clipped left ear. He keeps his brown hair cropped and simple, but his garb is often of high quality and intricately patterned, and his already-damaged left ear sports three golden rings.

History: Rook is a gambling man, and if anything can be said about him, its that 'he gets by'. Born to a family of too many children and too little means to feed them, he left at a young age, near fourteen - at the behest of his head-in-the-clouds mother but to the detriment of his far more 'grounded' father's health - to begin a life on the open road. Early on, he learned to appreciate three things - a quick tongue, a bit of coin, and a knob of iron at the end of a stick. Blessed with quick hands and a smooth voice, he made much of his way traveling from inn to inn, hustling the ignorant of their cash. In possession of a set of dice so loaded some have called them magical, the once flea-ridden youth found ways to divert fistfuls of gold into his lap, trading worn woolen garments for silks and becoming something of a local legend. He has only returned home once, when he was by chance informed of his father's pending funeral.

In the recent weeks, he chose Brackenhorst as victim to his curious brand of tyranny. While nipping spare coin from the foolish and ingratiating himself with the local populace, he by chance met a man named Thaddeus. He'd heard some whispers of the man but he truly knew very little, and his demeanor intrigued Rook, so he inevitably challenged Thaddeus to a simple dice game; guess odds or evens, and you win. He handily 'earned' the man's coin in three quick bouts, but in a not-uncharacteristic move, he bought food and drink for the man using his own lost wealth. It took more than a few mugs of ale, but Rook was able to tease out the vague details of Thaddeus' reason for returning home; some hoo-ha about orcs and the Watchful requiring aid. While he'd never been a man to follow 'noble' ideals, he was interested enough to gamble with Thaddeus one last time. Should Thaddeus guess correctly, Rook would join him, and assist in whatever ways he could; and against all 'odds', the Watchful won the bet. Not knowing quite sure what he was getting involved in, but excited for the possibilities nonetheless, Rook vowed to followed Thaddeus as far as he was needed.

Personality: Rook is most easily - and correctly - described as a free spirit, but most definitely not a reverent one. When asked what he finds most important in life (as often happens amongst the intoxicated), he lists simply 'wine, women, and song.' He ruthlessly sucks gold from the hapless, but he never leaves them helpless either; he just as often pays their stay in town as robs them of their valuables. Truth be told, he's not quite sure what he's looking for out of life, but he knows he could never just sit and manage a shop or till the land. There's too much fire in him for that.

Skills: Besides being quick with his hands and tongue, Rook has picked up many small, useful skills along his less-than-glamorous path through life, including lockpicking, small-time hunting, cooking, brewing, and the like; he can also charm people in many unexpected ways. His easy demeanor makes him hard to disagree with, and he uses it to his advantage. Finally, he is quite skilled with small blades and clubs; not a duelist by any means, life on the streets has taught him many ways to throw daggers and disarm and disable a warrior before he is able to swing his fancy sword.

Possessions: A three foot iron mace with a small, round head, and three daggers; two with short, broad blades and one slender blade nearing nine inches. His set of 'magical' dice, and a large ceramic jug of wine that seems near bottomless. He never carries much gold on him, but he has enough to get by, and can certainly always 'acquire' more. He also has a tin of chewing weed, a rare indulgence of his hometown with a sour bite that leaves the gums and tongue tingling.

The Insidious Night [Low Fantasy]

Im down