Eschatologist

The Silver Dagger

OH MY GOD THE GUILD GREENTEXTS THINGS

>We 8chan now nerds

The Silver Dagger

>backbone
>walks into some dude's house uninvted, calls him a fuck when chastised
>threatens to draw a weapon
>fucking implying

The Silver Dagger

"Aye Thaler, I'll be off.". Alexander passed the man and found his way to the room in which the two women most recently in his acquaintance were talking. Well, had been talking. Something had evidently gone awry, and Alexander feared for a moment that Ayla would be joining that prig in leaving the group. He claimed a bunk, throwing his pack on the ground and carefully laying his sword by the bedside. He looked to the dark-skinned woman, 'Mysaren' if he recalled correctly [which he usually did. Alexander rarely forgot a name, strangely enough], and let his smile grow.

He tried to piece together the parts of Ayla's departing comment that he heard, saying after a moment, "Don't worry too much about her, lass. Some folk get moods, 'specially those that've seen a fight or two in their time. Can't say I've ever stormed out of a room on account of one, but I'd not begrudge her, and I doubt she'd blame you for settin' one off.". He brushed himself off, and before Mysaren could respond began walking out. "Reckon I'll go find some breakfast around here. Bet these guards have some eggs, at least."

Breakfast wasn't the first thing on his mind, however. He was not sure why he felt the need to talk to Ayla, but he didn't think too hard on it. No matter the reason, making this group smooth would be good for everyone here. And, if she had good reason to be black, then that'd be good to hear. He caught up to the woman as she walked outside, stopping a handful of strides behind the woman and spoke in his loud bass.

"You off to get the rum, lass? If yer are, try not to get that lime-laced swill; limes never agreed with me, ye know?"

The Silver Dagger

God, I just remembered what a "Thaler" is, and now all I want to do is make money puns. I have so many! Why didn't I choose a punny character?

The Silver Dagger

Alexander looked at the still-unnamed man, then back to the guardsman, then back to the now-departing man, his posture straightening and the adrenaline fading from his consciousness. A smile returned to his face as he realized that the chances of a fight had reduced themselves significantly. He let the man pass unmolested, and spoke to the guardsman with a laugh in his voice. "So, chief. Do I still need to watch the door, or d'you need me to go and fetch the rum now? I still don't know your name either, chief, figure that'd be something worth knowing. I'm Alexander Branwen, formerly part o' the Dragon-Tooth Company.". He extended his left hand, the dim perception of the brash man behind him fading slowly into nothing.

The Silver Dagger

Alexander's face did not change, still ready for a fight and not happy about it. He nodded nonetheless, responding with "Will do, chief.". His full attention still on the angry lad, still ready to stop [or start] a fight, he spoke to his new charge. "Out you go mate, you heard the man. Might as well know your name too, while we're here.". He shifted slightly, moving enough out of the way to allow people to get through the doorway while still in the orbit of his charge in which Alexander could reach him, but he could not reach Alexander.

The Silver Dagger

Whoops, missed Chip's post, let me edit before folks respond, pls.

EDIT: Got it done

The Silver Dagger

Alexander laughed at the chastisement, deep guffaws the he tried to keep quiet, succeeding only partially. "Guess we weren't, eh?". Alexander could tell he would like the guardsman already. He gave of the impression that he knew what he was doing, and he wasn't some prick nobleman don't know he's born.

He made to respond to the guardsman, but the tall lass beat him to it. No reason to speak left, he kept quiet, waiting to see what was going to happen. He hefted his clattering pack onto his back, and made to shoulder his sword. His hand was halfway to the hilt when he realized that he himself would have a struggle fitting comfortably in the hall himself, let alone with two feet of sword sticking up over his head. Changing the trajectory of his hand slightly, he gripped the blade tight on the ricasso, fastidiously keeping the tip towards the grounds and away from anything he didn't want to accidentally stab, ready to presumably follow the guardsman to wherever they needed to go.

The angry response from the berated man caught Alexander off guard. Yelling at your employer was not an intelligent means of getting hired, and made one look like a colossal arse. Alexander was ready to dismiss it as nerves, or just an unpleasant disposition, and move on, but that opinion changed when he saw one of the man's hands move into his coat. That was bad; anyone that could get angry enough to draw a blade over an argument was no man Alexander wanted serving near him, and someone willing to threaten an employer with violence in broad daylight was even worse. Alexander tensed slightly, his eyes boring into the back of the man's head, his free left hand ready to snap out and grab the rude entrant, already planning how to disarm and disable him without endangering anyone. He could feel the faintest tinge of adrenaline seeping into his perception, and his mood went from cheerfully jovial to the ice-cold mix of anger and fear that came before a fight.

The Silver Dagger

I wrestled for like 5 minutes trying to work in the gordian knot without it being out of universe, because that is the feeling I got from the post. I was a hairs breadth away from creating a fictitious conqueror to cut a fictitious knot in a fictitious city, but then decided against it.

The Silver Dagger

Ayla's comment about falling over during a charge, and the sight of this new arrival, forced into his mind with chagrin the memory of his first battle with the Dragon-Teeth, up against a scouting group of dark-skins [he needed to stop using the phrase; more than once he had found himself at odds with folks over the infantry expression], memories of him in the van falling on his face and being nearly trampled to death. Shaking his head slightly to discharge the shame from his mind's eye, turned his attention to their new guest. She wore a sword, but not with the ease of Ayla or the routine of ex-mercenaries. Her attire was fine, her skin marked, but certainly not by battle. He responded to Ayla with a chuckle, his gaze not leaving the dark-skinned lady.

"I don't reckon she's here to fight, not least as we are. Now, I'm not used to them educated types, but if I were to bet I'd say yer here for yer brains, not your sword arm." Turning his head to Ayla, he responded to her more directly. "I figure maybe she's dressed right: figure yer gotta be comfortable to use yer brain, mail probably aint the right choice for hard thinking."

Alexander watched as the well dressed man walked right by him and entered the store, his eyes being pulled off the dark skinned woman. It was a profoundly surreal moment, oddly, seeing someone doing something that he had not considered. It was a brash move, certainly, and Alexander didn't think it augured well for their working relationship, but those thoughts fell from his mind as he looked confusedly at the rest of the group. "So. Are we meant to go in?"