The Tavern

10 Years Later

Solskin

Shiria

It wasn't that good of an ale, but it was was ale all the same. Gaining a reputation as a monster slayer came with its benefits. Free food, ale, and the gratitude of all the townspeople. But I was still restless. I needed to repay the men who gave their lives trying to defend me. I needed to continue their work and follow their duties however I could. To Erik and his men. To the brave soldiers fighting in the forest. I would join the army and personally serve the king to repay them. But, until then, this is nice.

"Another!"

"Sure, Solskin. Keep killin 'em nasty gribblies out there n' there be ale for ya here," said the tavern keeper, a scrawny man compared to all of the customers, except one.

He looked shorter than everyone and less built, but Solskin sensed danger irradiating from him. He didn't just sit in the corner focusing on his drink like all the other drunkards, but his calculating black eyes darted across the room, scanning. He looked relaxed, but I noticed his left arm, wrapped in dirty yellow bandages, always stayed close to his sword. He intrigued me. His clothes were ragged and torn, but I could see the tattered form of a black and gold dragon head. The insignia of the Galian Royal Army. Gathering my pints of ale, I plopped down on a seat next to him. He studied me with a disinterested stare but said nothing.

"You, my friend, need something to drink. The strongest you have for my friend here, keeps!"

"Dwarven port, comin' right up."

Two large wooden mug were slammed onto the table by one of the waitress. The port inside was a noxious, cloudy yellow that made me regret ever laying sight on it.

"Might as well drink. It's all on me, my friend." I raised my mug to him in a gesture of friendship, a bit

of the drink sloshing out of the cup and onto the table.

He quickly glanced that the port and then pushed it away. It fell off the table and splattered across the wooden boards.

I was bothered by it. I didn't really care, I was too eager to ask him everything I wanted to know. I stood up facing him. "To friendship."

Raising the mug in toast, I took a long gulp of the port and instantly regretted everything up until now. The port was pure, one hundred percent, unadulterated alcohol and tasted of iron rust and dirt. I immediately felt the drink taking effect. Regret was all I felt until my vision turned black.

Xavier

I watched the idiot down the port despite my warning.

"Imbecile," I muttered under my breath. After a while, I sighed and attempted to excuse myself from the table, but found myself trapped in place by a drunken arm slung over my shoulders.

"So-o. I-I 'ave some-somethin I need to a- ask you."

I stared at him blankly, mildly annoyed at the situation. With a grunt of disdain, I shrugged off his arm and walked upstairs to my room. Before reaching the stairs, two big bruisers stood in the way. They were laborers with large arms meant for lifting haystacks. Judging by their breath, they were very drunk. Great.

"Missster Heerrr-ooooo dude has 'old you th-that you 've som-ing he ne-eds."

"Sit down before you tip over and break something important, you ass-kisser."

"Ain't 'ery nice. Fred, let's ge-et 'm." With that, both slabs of animated meat begun charging towards me, their movements obviously impaired by liquor.

Years of combat training and battlefield experience overroad my initial surprise. I crouched low to the ground, sweeping out my leg, tripping one man. Off-balance, he slammed into a nearby table. Switching focus to the second man, I swiftly raised my gauntlet to block an incoming kick. I followed it up with a jab to the stomach with my free hand. Reeling from the blow, he stumbled away from me. I took the opportunity to shove him in his chest and sent him flying after his drunken comrade who was still trying to get up. He landed on the other with a resounding smack. Down for now.

Looking back, the rest of the bar's patrons' looked at me with wide eyes. Stools clattered to the ground as a few shot up and started walking towards me in a way I could only assume they thought was threatening.

"Hey, he's attacking Solskin's friends. Who does this guy think he is?"

"Yeah! Let's teach 'im a lesson!"

The situation soon turned hectic. They all charged at me: one swung his fist towards my head in a wide arc, one seedy-looking one next to a wall reached for their dagger, another dived towards my legs. I quickly assessed the relative threat of each, remaining calm and collected. After assessing the situation, I sped towards the one with the dagger first. Grasping his hand, I squeezed until I heard a sharp crack and a whimper, incapacitating him. Not finished, I slammed their hand on the rock wall. Leaving the seedy man to clutch his hand in pain, I turned towards the remaining patrons, ready to defend myself.

"He-ey! Th-there's no ne-need for fighting, I just wa-wanted to talk to -im!"

Some of Solskin's admirers looked at each other for a second.

"Já, stop fighting. Solskin told ya morons to stop." They cried.

"Tha-at's right. Ju-st go b-b-back to your busssiness. Get us a so-me of the-them drinks, alright?" Solskin said.

Many of his followers returned to their seats, however, a few still eyed me with dirty looks. The more sensible followers noticed, and like the drunkards they truly were, yelled at each other to sit down and used their fists to force them to comply. The situation soon went sideways and the entire tavern erupted into another brawl. Fists flew everywhere as they swung wildly at friend and foe alike, attempting to land a hit. I stood back and watched for a few minutes before the seedy man came toward me again.

"You little shit. Imma get you back for my hand." He threw his knife at me. As I was about to dodge, a wild swing knocked me over into the path of the knife. It got lodged painfully in my left arm. With that, I felt an anger welling from within me that was not my own. A cold hatred directed toward everyone in this tiny, insignificant bar.

Persephone

I watched the brawl quietly from my corner of the room, stirring my spoon around my cold beef and cabbage stew. It wasn't interesting. Not a single soul was destined to die tonight. I had pulled out my pocket watch and pointed it at every person in the brawl in curiosity. There wasn't much better to do. Suddenly, the watch started to act strangely. It was not the angry knife wielder who caused. Or him with the multiple pints of ale. Who was it? What was that strange sign? Someone caught my eye.

He was in the edge of the brawl, but he exuded this unnatural feeling. It looked as if a battle was raging within him, a battle he was slowly losing. I saw his eyes. They were black, but a flicker of something passed through them, disappearing before I could identify it. Curious, I pointed my watch at him, and was dumbfounded by what I saw. The hour hand rested at twelve, a clear indication he was dead. I racked my brains for ideas: was he an undead? Glancing up, I dismissed the idea. The man did not look decomposed, and it would be difficult to halt the natural process for a corpse. Even more curious, I risked a second glance. Did he escape Hades? Thanatos would be very displeased.

My thoughts were cut short as my attention was drawn to his wrapped arm. It drew in the shadows of the room. Black wisps snaked around it as he raised his hand into the air and muttered something under his breath. Suddenly, the entire room dropped to the floor, curled up and started crying as if they were in a horrifying nightmare. I stared in shock at the man who single handedly brought the entire room to their knees.

He knelt to the floor and touched the seedy one who was curled up into a ball. The collapsed man shuddered at his touch. The strange man looked saddened. He stood and strode out of the swinging doors into the night. Interesting. Very interesting. My mission to the Capital would have to wait, he needed to observed.

Solskin

Through the thick fog of drunkenness, I could barely process what had happened. I was just glad that I managed to shake off the effects of the spell. I looked across the bar to see a woman, dressed priest's robes, pursue the soldier from the Royal Army. And all that, just because I wanted to ask the guy how to become a royal guard. Looking down at the dwarven port in my hand, I cast it aside and stumbled after the death cleric. They were both gone.